Page 9 of Monstrous Grave

Over the years, the warmth in his eyes gradually faded away, replaced by an increasing coldness that the years only hardened. Our foster father made sure to dim the light in him. Despite that, I know he tries to fight against his inner demons, striving to be a better person for my sake.

“Princesses don’t cry. In this world we live in, you have to be strong. You’re crumbling apart, and it’s not a pretty look.” His words cut through the air with acute precision.

Anger simmers within me, bubbling like a pot ready to boil over. I frown at him. “Fuck you.”

His hand is suddenly on my throat, staring down at me with those cold eyes that could pierce through anything. I feel myself gulping underneath his touch, still trusting him not to hurt me.

I’m twisted.

“That’s not a way to treat your brother, princess,” he admonishes, tone laced with authority.

Beneath my shirt, my nipples stiffen, and I can’t discern if it’s the chilly wind rustling through the trees or his nearness that causes this fiery reaction. His gaze feels like a scorching caress against my skin as if his eyes are methodically stripping me down with each passing second. I can’t help but notice the hunger in him, though I could be misinterpreting the situation.

I don’t reply despite the retort clinging to my tongue and begging to be let out. Instead, I wait for the moment he’ll let go of my throat. I’m aware he can feel the quickening thud of my pulse beneath his palm, each beat reverberating through his body as he maintains control over me. The rhythmic thud, thud, thud is only a testament to the control he has over me, my pulse beating even harder whenever he is nearby.

“How does it feel? Your life is in my hands,” he mumbles under his breath, yet despite his low tone, it’s as if he’s screaming in my ears. “Like it’s always been. If I put enough pressure here…” His words whisper a threat, something that my body can’t seem to fully grasp.

My feet remain rooted in place, waiting with bated breath for his next move. His other hand strokes my cheek, trailing toward my neck, and the gaze in his eyes tells me he could very well do what he threatened to do. I should run, get as far away from him as possible. Yet, I don’t want to, because despite it all, I know I’m safe with him.

“…Your brain won’t receive enough oxygen. I’m the only one allowed to kill you. Understood?” he continues.

His words are cryptic and cold, his last sentence hitting me straight to my heart like a gunshot. He is referring to the fact that my mental health has been declining throughout the years, slowly turning me into a withered rose that’s losing her petals day by day. Being forced to see a therapist has not helped. The only person I’ve been able to fully open up to has been him, like an anchor in a stormy sea keeping me afloat, yet a hellhound.

That’s the thing about having rich, uncaring parents. They pay hundreds of dollars for a therapist, brushing issues like mental illness under the rug and pretending they never existed. As long as the therapist is doing their job, the parents can go back on their merry little way.

He squeezes harder, slowly restricting the oxygen from my lungs. Eventually, they start burning slightly, deprived of air.

“Understood?” he growls, and I nod, never once breaking eye contact.

He finally eases his grip on my throat, allowing me to gasp for breath. I’m embarrassingly turned on right now, but I won’t ever admit it. His eyes slide down to my thighs, now clenching even tighter, and his eyebrows rise, a smirk hinting at his lips.

I swallow, my throat dry with anticipation, as I see the thick outline of his crotch—a bulge growing more prominent by the second. His hand suddenly lands on my thigh, grabbing it harshly, sending a jolt of electricity through me. I can’t help but notice the prominent veins tracing his skin, highlighted by the sunlight filtering through the trees.

Is he…aroused?

Does he feel the same intoxicating sensations as I do?

I shake my head internally, dismissing that thought as soon as it comes to me.

“If you’re making demands, so should I,” I bite back while dragging in enough oxygen, watching his gaze zeroing in on me. “You could have been arrested for assault back there!” I sound more upset than I intended to be.

Kaiden merely shrugs his shoulders. “But I wasn’t.” The look in his eyes tells me how satisfied he is with that outcome.

“Arrogant bastard,” I mutter under my breath.

With a sudden move, his thumb traces a path along my thigh, sending shivers of anticipation sweeping over me. His touch inches closer to the pulsating heat between my legs while his eyes are still connected to mine. My heart pounds heavily, sweat dampening my palms, as emotions overwhelm me. A wave of hesitation crashes over me while a rational voice in my mind urges caution.

“I… You’re my brother,” I whisper, attempting to pull away from him, but the slick grass delays my movements.

“So what? I don’t care.”

Without a word, his hand ventures toward the apex of my thighs, drawing closer to the hem of my shorts. I try to maintain my composure, not wanting him to see how deeply his touch affects me. Biting down on my lip, I suppress the faint moan threatening to escape as his fingers trace the seam of my shorts. A wildfire spreads through me. I can’t act or do anything at all when he has me under his spell. He maneuvers me like a puppeteer, keeping me on my toes with strings.

He doesn’t utter a word as his hand grazes my core, a burning sensation taking root within me. He applies slight pressure, touching just the right spot as he begins to circle my clit with precision. Despite my efforts to resist, the moan I held back escapes, his skillful touch coaxing it from me. I glimpse the hard cock straining against his jeans, suddenly filled with the urge to touch and taste him. He expertly draws waves of pleasure from me, each touch sending me into ecstasy. I fight to keep myself grounded, not to let the emotions overtake me. Our ragged breaths mingle in the peaceful woods, echoing our carnal yearnings for each other.

Another uncontrollable moan escapes my lips, and I’ve never felt anything quite like this before. The moments of touching myself at night, using my vibrator on my clit while fingers slipped between my folds at the thought of him, pales in comparison to the reality of his touch. It’s as if he has done this before. That thought is sickening, and I instantly remember where we are and who it is that’s giving me this feeling of bliss.

With all the remaining shreds of my dignity, I scramble backward, meeting his gaze now full of simmering rage. I clench my legs together, cursing myself for allowing that bliss to be taken away from me—I was so close.

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