My stepbrother isn't human.
He's a god—a literal god—posing as a college senior.
His mother is the queen of the underworld. Well, she was. Until she was exiled for cheating on Hades, the king of the underworld, and falling in love with my father. But Persephone refused to leave without her son, and Thane was more than eager to leave with her.
No one could stop him anyway, he was eighteen at the time.
But all that happened when I was fourteen. I'm eighteen now. And I wish I could say that Thane and I have a lovely stepbrother-sister relationship, but that is not the case.
Thane hates me. He's hated me from the first day he saw me, and he never failed to make it known to me. I was relieved when he went off to college, because I never got to see him again. He never came back home.
Not even two years later, when my father died in an accident. He didn't show up at the funeral.
And now I'm being shipped off to live with him. Well, not really shipped off. I'm driving myself to his penthouse apartment. I would've preferred to go to school and live as far away from him as possible, but Persephone thinks it's better to be with him. That he can protect me.
Protect me from who? Himself?
She swears it'll be fine.
That's what she says over the car's Bluetooth as I drive through the gated neighbourhood filled with glass mansions. Of course, Thane would choose the most dramatic place to live in.
"He won't be a problem," Persephone tells me in that soft, too-sweet voice that only ever comes out when she's lying. She knows her son.
"He hates me," I say, adjusting the sunglasses that I don't need but wear for moral support. No way I'm looking into those eyes without protection. "I mean, before he left, he literally told me he'd rather be exiled all over again than live under the same roof with me. What other sign do you need, Perse?"
There's a long pause.
And then, "Sweetheart," she says delicately. "He didn't mean that."
"Sure, he didn't," I drawl, rolling my eyes so hard, they nearly get stuck in my head.
Persephone sighs, and I can hear the faint sound of liquid sloshing in a glass. Wine. Olympian wine, no doubt. Even though Persephone can't step foot into the underworld, she can still go to Olympus. Though, she doesn't. Instead, she has crates of wine delivered to her monthly.
"Just give him time. You're both growing into your destinies. And you're so much alike!"
That part makes me laugh. Out loud.
"Right," I say, "We're both hot, brooding, cold and rude for no reason at all and casually cursed. You're so funny, Perse, and I love you, but I gotta go, okay?"
"Say hello to—"
I don't let her finish her sentence before I cut the call. I'm already pulling into the circular driveway of Thane's apartment building.
It's sleek and black like obsidian and it reflects the sky in ways that make it look like a shadow pretending to be architecture. Thane lives on the penthouse floor.
It's a gothic hell. I hate it already.
I grab my bag, deciding to leave my suitcase in my car just in case I need to run for the hills, and then I head inside the building. The interior is not as dramatic as I thought it would be, but it's luxurious for sure.
I head straight for the elevator, and after what feels like the longest elevator ride in the world, I'm standing in front of a door with no number. Just a symbol etched into the dark glass door. Yes. Glass: a serpent eating its own tail.
Of fucking course, Thane Vasilis. Ever the statement maker.
I knock on the door, adjusting my sunglasses once more, and I run my hand through my hair, suddenly feeling nervous. This is someone I haven't seen in four whole years. Someone who I am sure still hates me to death.
And now, I'm about to meet him.
Before I can overthink things and run back to my car, the door slides open.
And I promptly forget how to breathe.
The man standing in front of me has the most beautiful features I have ever seen in my eighteen years of living on this earth. Long, pale-gold hair that looks like he's been running his hand through it all day, and icy-blue, electric eyes that are staring straight into me.
But that's not even the worst part.
He's naked.
Fully naked. And I swear I try not to look down at his lower half, but my stubborn eyes can't help but take a peek. He has a barbell piercing at the tip of his—yeah. That.
I force my eyes away, feeling heat creep up my neck fast as I try—and fail—to find the right words to say.
This isn't Thane.
"Uh," I stammer, blinking as I turn away. "Sorry, I t-think I've got the wrong—"
"You must be Nyra," he says smoothly, voice sounding somewhere between velvet and smoke. "Thane's stepsister."
I freeze right there and then, turning to face him slowly. "You know me?" My brows scrunch together.
Does that mean… I'm at the right house?
The beautiful man smirks, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he leans against the door post. He's not even remotely bothered that he's standing naked in front of a stranger.
"Thane might've mentioned you in passing," he says. "Told me how 'very delighted' he is that you're coming here." Sarcasm drips like water from his tone and my jaw twitches.
And then his eyes rake over my form from top to bottom, and all of a sudden, I want to look at myself in the mirror and check if I put my shirt on wrong, or if my skirt is too off. But then I feel a sharp burn on my skin that starts from my thighs and spreads up toward my stomach, and it's like the more he looks at me, the hotter I become—literally.
And then it hits me.
He's definitely not human.
That explains his otherworldly beauty.
"Can you stop that?" I snap, hissing when the burn reaches my nipples.
The pain suddenly ceases, disappearing like it was never there. And then he chuckles. "Sorry about that. Got carried away. It's just… Thane never mentioned how fucking sexy you are."
'That's because he hasn't seen me in four years,' I want to say, but I decide not to.
It took a lot of convincing from Persephone for me to believe that I was even remotely beautiful.
I used to be bullied for not being skinny. And it's not that I'm even too plus-size, I'm just a curvy girl. Fairly large boobs with a slimmer waist and a fat ass, and it never occurred to me that those girls were just jealous of me. But Persephone made me realize that.
"I…see," I manage, trying not to peer down. "And you are?"
"Lucien," he says without a beat. "But you can call me Luke."
No, the hell I won't.
Lucien steps aside, jerking his head. "Come on in."
I push my shades higher up my face, making sure to carefully step past him so I don't brush against him or anything, and then he shuts the door behind us.
The living area is huge, and just like the outside, dark. Black couches, black coffee tables, gray walls containing paintings that I can't understand for the life of me. This place looks exactly like the inside of Thane's heart.
"This place is…" I search for the word.
"A little much?" he offers.
"I was going to say haunted, but sure. That works too."
He chuckles. "I think I like you."
"Yeah? Well, I think I'd like you too if you put some damn clothes on, Lucien. You're pretty distracting."
Lucien grins. "I like free-balling, Nyra. If the owner of the house doesn't mind, you shouldn't either."
That reminds me…
I clear my throat. "So are you and Thane… is he your boyfriend?"
Because I can't think of another reason why a guy would be free-balling at his friend's house.
I never thought that Thane was gay. Come to think of it, I don't think I ever saw him with a romantic partner. But then again, I didn't know him for long before he left.
Lucien lets out a laugh, reaching for a piece of clothing on the couch. His boxers. Yuck. But thankfully, he pulls it on. "Don't let him hear you call me that, Nyra. Thane and I just fuck. We're… fuck buddies, if you wanna put a label on it."
I nod. "Where is he anyway?"
He shrugs. "Stepped out not long before you showed up. He should be back any moment now. But enough about me, Nyra." He steps closer. "What's it like being Persephone's little pet project?"
My brows draw together and I open my mouth, ready to say something snarky, but then I hear the sound of the door sliding open.
The atmosphere immediately turns cold—that's only a small fraction of the kind of power the exiled prince of the underworld carries.
A shiver runs down my spine, and slowly, I turn around.
And standing there, soulless eyes blazing with fury, is Thane Vasilis.
His voice is like a blade slicing through the cold air.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" he growls.