Even though I know it’s wrong, I push my hand beneath my sweatpants and fist my painfully hard cock. I stroke myself to the memory of Cia against me. Sucking in a deep breath between my teeth, I squeeze the base of my cock as I recall her hot breath on my skin, and her fingers drawing patterns on my stomach in her sleep.
I let the pad of my thumb slide over my tip so I can spread the pre-cum. Then I fist my cock again, pumping harder, faster while imagining my cousin’s hands on me. Did she feel my hardness—and if she did, did she like it? I’m pretty sure the answer is no, because Cia isn’t as depraved as me. She’s the light to my dark, the goodness to my abhorrent behavior. Maybe it’s better we’re separated.
“Cia, I love you,” I grunt, as I come all over my hand.
Maybe it’s wrong, but I don’t fucking care.
There, in the darkness, with my sticky release drying on my hand, I vow to do everything in my power to be with her again. If she doesn’t want me as I want her, I’ll be whatever she wants.
“Well done, Augustus. You’re a Protégé now,” Mom says, sounding more smug than proud.
Dad and Cia are out for dinner by themselves, one of their traditions. First, they have dinner somewhere stupidly fancy. I don’t know why Dad insists on that when she couldn’t care less, but whatever. Then, they swing by her parents’ grave where she places fresh flowers and talks to them.
I’ve never joined them, Cia told me in painstaking detail about their bonding and quality time. Once a month, ever since she embraced our family’s Legacy and started the training. The only thing that’s a bummer about their outing is that I have to put up with my mom for the night.
“Yeah, whatever,” I say, refusing to look at her.
I can feel my mom’s gaze on me, but I keep my back to her. I know she’s getting ready to tell me about the next part of what she has in store for me, and fuck me, I don’t want to hear it. There’s no way I can avoid it, but I never agreed to make it easy on her.
The sound of Mom’s stilettos against the marble floor is the only warning I get of her movement. Four click-clacks, and then her hand wraps around my arm. “I’ve endured your obstinance for far too long. If it wasn’t for me, you would have perished years ago. It’s time you repay the favor.” Her voice is deceptively soft, unlike her nails that are digging into my skin. “It’s time to strike a new deal if you want your beloved cousin to continue breathing.”
I don’t think, I react.
The threat to Cia makes me see red, and I immediately whirl around. My hand closes around my mom’s throat as I forcefully push her back until she hits the wall. “Do. Not. Threaten. Her.” I roar into her face, spittle hitting her cheeks. “What you’ve given me isn’t a life, it’s merely an existence. You’re the reason I jumped out of my second-story window when I was seven. It wasn’t because I wanted to see if I could fly, I wanted to get away from you.”
“Augustus,” she gasps, her eyes widening comically.
I scoff at her attempt at looking like she cares and flex my hand, restricting her ability to breathe. “You’ve never let a day pass without reminding me I owe you this or that, and it may have worked in the past. No more, Mother.” I make air-quotes with my free hand at the parental word. “Our games are over. I’ve kept my word, but we’re done now.”
As I watch Mom turn red I’m surprised at my lack of remorse. I really don’t feel anything for the bitch in front of me. If I could get away with killing her right now, I would.
“We’re not done until I say so,” she hisses, trying to lift her chin.
I close my hand even more, watching her face with morbid curiosity. Her eyes are bulging and red, showing me her blood vessels have popped. She’s clawing at my hand and trying to kick me, but her attempts are fruitless.
Cia hates my mom, I know this. So she wouldn’t care if I killed her and honestly, I don’t think it would bother Dad. Well, apart from the obvious inconvenience of going through the motions as the grieving widower and having to arrange her funeral. But beyond that… no, I don’t believe he’d care.
“Acacia is only alive because I’ve protected her. If I die, so will she.” Mom’s words are rushed and tinged with the last breath in her lungs.
Before I can think about what to do, I release her. She immediately falls to her knees, gasping for air. I can’t help but chuckle at the disarray of her clothes, her hair, and the way her makeup has smudged from her tears.
Mentally counting, I give her exactly three minutes before I hoist her up by her hair, slamming her up against the wall again. “Speak!” I angrily command. “What the fuck do you mean, Cia is in danger?”
Mom’s laugh is hoarse and quickly turns into coughs. “Don’t you think I have contingencies? If anything happens to me, your bitch cousin is dead and—” Mom shrieks as I backhand her.
“Let’s try again,” I snarl, satisfied when her eyes widen in disbelief.
“Y-you hit me.” Her hand shoots up to her cheek, and she rubs the now red skin, like she can’t quite believe I did that.
I chuckle at the stupidity of it all. I’ve choked and hit her, yet it’s the hit she’s being all precious about.
Fucking women.
“And I will again if you don’t get to the point quickly,” I growl.
Mom nods and rubs her cheek again. Then she turns and walks over to the sitting area. Within minutes of being seated, her demeanor changes. Her back is straight, and she calmly crosses one leg over the other. Despite what I’ve done, she still manages to look regal and I fucking hate it.
I hate her.
