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My hand lands on her waist, my fingers digging into her back while my thumb presses into her belly button. It's an uncomfortable feeling, and I press until I know her discomfort borders on pain. "Be careful what you wish for, little sister. You don't want to somehow end up back in that room. Or worse, end up in my hands. You don't want to know what I'd do with you."
Her eyes land on the burn on my neck. The burn that's turned into an itch and an ache, and it makes me wish I would've plunged the knife into her neck. Even just a little.
"I'd rather be at the mercy of one thousand deadly spirits than spend a second with you." She smirks, and it borders on psychotic.
My dick twitches again.
"And, you never know, another second with me, and maybe you'll end up with another burn on your neck."
"You fucking bitch," I growl, my fingers flexing with a need to choke her out. To end her for good.
She slips out of my hold, stepping farther into the shower. "Come on in, Malik. Step in and see what I'm capable of."
I crack my knuckles, wanting so badly to break her. To be done with this horrible stepsister that has been nothing but a pain in my ass since she stepped into my town. But she makes it too easy, standing there naked and clutching her chest in the corner of my shower.
She thinks she’s tough, but she’d be so easy to break.
I step back until she's barely visible. "I hope you cry yourself to sleep tonight, little sister. This is only the beginning."
I slip out of the bathroom, my skin on fire from her eyes and the fury she ignites in me. Our hate is so natural. Two people that shouldn't be around each other. But we're forced to be, and unfortunately, us mixing will only lead to death and destruction.
"Malik," my dad barks from down the hall. I can barely see him in the darkness, but he's there. I can sense him.
"What?" I give him my back, walking to my room. Not in the mood for him tonight. I don't care about whatever philosophy he wants to spew my way. Or whatever else he wants to hassle me about. Not tonight.
"Come here, Malik," he orders.
I sigh, my shoulders dropping. I turn around, scowling at him as I make my way into the shadows of his side of the house. He gives me a look, one that looks similar to the one he gives me after I've done a serious prank. The kind of pranks we can't come back from.
He nods his head, and walks across the hall from his room, into a smaller office he barely uses. I walk in, and he shuts the door behind me, turning on the light.
I can see the dust lingering in the air, floating around and making it look as foggy in here as it does outside. There's a desk on one end of the room, empty and unused. There's also a small bookshelf with reference books and types of boring as hell research information that he for some reason needs to have. Near the window sits one of those couches that you'd see in a therapist's office, with a white sheet covering it.
"I received a call from the school today, Malik. I have to say, I'm very disappointed in you."
I roll my eyes. "What did they say this time?"
"A knife in school? Really?"
I laugh. "I always have a knife on me."
He frowns. "What about the fact that you left without giving Vera a ride this morning, and someone from school dropped her off. Did you ditch her after school, too?"
I stare at him. "Yes."
He sighs, running his hand down his cheek and to the back of his neck. "This has got to stop."
I chuckle. "What's got to stop? I'm not doing anything."
He scowls at me, his face weathered and tired of my shit. I’ve always been tired of him, so he can fuck right off. "Exactly my point. Daphne is my wife now, and you have a little sister that goes to your school. You have to take care of her, maybe be friends with her a little. She doesn't know anyone, Malik!"
I point at him. "You're out of your fucking mind."
He steps closer to me, barely beating me by an inch in height. He's also broader than me, but at the end of the day, I'm stronger, and one move from me would lay him on his ass. "I think you're stepping out of line here, son."
I reach a hand up, grabbing his shirt and pulling him until his chest bumps up against mine. Me and my dad rarely fight. We don't like each other, and that much is obvious, but getting into an actual physical fight is rare. We mostly just ignore each other. "You bring a whore and her daughter into this house and expect me to be fine with it?" His face grows red, and I push him away from me, disgust tasting bitter against my tongue.
He shoves me, though it doesn’t hold much substance. "Call her a whore again, Malik, and you can find somewhere else to park your ass.” He breathes, and I can see the literal steam flowing from his ears. “You watch your mouth. And what the hell were you doing in the bathroom when she's taking a shower? You better not even think about getting her into bed and treating her like just another mindless girl you sleep with."
