Page 83 of Deviant Obsession

"Sit down." I gesture to the living room while turning to retrieve the first aid kit from my study. "Let me look at that hand."

Dean ignores me, pacing the length of the room like a caged predator instead. Blood continues to drip steadily from his split knuckles, spattering a gory scene across my pristine floorboards.

It can’t have been more than a few minutes since we arrived when front door opens without a knock. Ethan's heavy footsteps echo through the foyer, his mildly confused expression as he steps into the room morphing into shock when his eyes lock onto Dean’s bloody hand.

"What the hell happened?"

"Ask him." Dean juts his chin in my direction, his own seething energy burning just as fiercely as before we left the university. "Ask our dear old Dad what he's been doing with Rhea."

A deep crease forms between Ethan’s brows as his gaze darts back and forth between us. It only takes one more glance at Dean’s split knuckles before the penny seems to drop. “Well fuck. That explains a lot.”

"Before you launch into a united attack, you should know that I had no idea Dean was seeing Rhea. And I certainly didn’t do anything without her consent.” Despite directing my words at Ethan, I lock eyes with Dean again as I reiterate the second point. Perhaps suggesting that Rhea could earn herself extra credit by kneeling for me was beyond the bounds of inappropriate… but I knew exactly what she wanted before I dared to say it out loud. What sheneeded.

The only crack in Ethan’s usual mask of indifference is the subtle tick in his jaw, revealing the violence simmering beneath. "How long?"

"It only happened once. In my office, last week."

"When exactly last week?"

"Monday."

The twins exchange a pointed look.

"That's why she ghosted us. Not because she needed space from us. Because she was feeling guilty about fucking you." Ethan's cold fury somehow feels more threatening than Dean's explosive rage.

“Us? You mean…bothof you?” This just got a whole lot more complicated than I was prepared for. I invited Ethan here thinking he’d be the voice of reason to calm his brother down. Somehow, I’ve turned my own home into the lion’s den.

Ethan's lip curls. "I wouldn’t go getting all high and mighty on us right now. You’re the one who stuck your dick in a student. Couldn’t resist that sweet face, hm? Or was it her obvious trauma that called to your specific tastes?"

"That's not what happened."

"Then what?" Dean demands. "Because from where I'm standing, you took advantage of your position?—”

"The way you've both been taking advantage of her inexperience?" I can’t keep the bite out of my own accusation. All attempts to keep the conversation calm fly straight out the window when the big picture becomes clear to me—the one that involves both of my stepsons leading Rhea down a path that obviously overwhelmed her. "How long have you been sharing her? Trading her back and forth like a toy?"

Both twins bristle at the allegation, but I catch the flicker of guilt in their expressions. They can’t hide anything from my well-trained powers of observation.

"That's different," Dean protests. "We never?—”

"Never what?" I cut him off. "Never pushed her limits? Never used her desire to please for your own gain? I've seen her grades slipping, watched her stumble through lectures half-asleep. You think you haven’t completely derailed that girl’s life with your selfishness?"

Ethan takes menacing step forward, his stance defensive as if he’s just entered the ring. "You don't know anything about our dynamic."

"I know everything about your dynamic without having to ask another question. I know neither of you has the discipline to handle someone as vulnerable as Rhea. Someone with her past, her need for validation?—”

"So what?" Dean interrupts. "You think you can handle her better? Guide her through her daddy issues with your fucking PhD?"

"She needs structure." I meet his glare without flinching. "Boundaries. Someone who understands the difference between domination and exploitation."

"We would never exploit her." Ethan's hands curl into fists at his sides.

"Not intentionally, maybe." I soften my tone slightly, already tired of these barbs being exchanged in a monotonous circle. "But you've both obviously been too caught up in your own appetites to see what this has been doing to her. When was the last time either of you considered her limits? Really watched for them, not just waited for a safe word?"

They don’t need to answer that one. I watch the doubt creep into their expressions like a visible burn, eroding their certainty, their defensiveness.

"She never said anything," Ethan mumbles, a hint of defeat sagging his shoulders. "Always seemed eager for more."

"Of course she did. Rhea’s entire psychological makeup revolves around earning approval. She'd let herself burn out completely before admitting she needed limits."

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