The car, which had been moving for a few hours that felt too long for Christian, finally ca to a stop, and with barely suppressed emotion, he pushed the door open and stepped out.
Unlike the mansion they had in Minnesota, what stood before him here in Washington was a simple two-story house with a small garden.
Compared to the grand estate, it was almost shabby.
But at this mont, Christian didn't give a fuck.
His gaze moved imdiately to the two won standing near the entrance.
No — more precisely, to one of them.
The one with brown hair and green eyes identical to his own.
And he couldn't help but pause.
He took her in slowly.
Her hair, now long — longer than before, ever since she had stopped cutting it short back when her life had been nothing but work. It fell loosely, almost carelessly, as if even now, without soone to care for, she wouldn't bother with it at all.
Then the shirt.
His shirt.
Worn on her as though it had always belonged there.
And finally, her eyes.
Glassy.
Heavy with worry.
And with tears she refused to let fall, as if she wouldn't allow herself that weakness now — not yet.
For a few seconds, he simply stood there, absorbing it, feeling it settle deep into his bones.
He was back.
Back to her.
Finally. He took one step, then another, slower, like approaching sothing holy and forbidden all at once.
Annabelle lifted one bare foot off the porch wood, ready to run to him too.
He didn't let her.
Power surged through his body, and through raw speed — he disappeared.
In the next instant, he was already in front of her, his hands cupping her cheeks, pulling her in as he kissed her like a man who had been drowning.
No greeting.
No words.
Nothing as trivial as "how are you."
The reunion between the siblings was far too raw for that.
Her lips parted on a broken sound; half sob, half laugh — and her fingers clenched on his shirt, yanking him closer as if he might vanish again.
Tongues slid, desperate, sloppy; teeth clicked. He swallowed the tiny whimper she couldn't hold back.
And not far away, stepping out after Anastasia, Eva saw that.
Saw him finally break.
Saw him lose control, even with Anastasia still present.
Sothing in her snapped.
She'd been rigid the whole drive — knees pressed together, nails digging into her palms, pretending civility while her cunt throbbed with every bump in the road. Propriety had been her armor since he left. No more.
Without hesitation, she closed the distance, pressing herself against his back, her arms slipping around them both as she buried herself into the mont, her lips brushing against his neck.
The three of them collapsed into each other in a tangled, breathless ss right there at the entrance, emotion spilling over in ways words never could.
And beside the car, Anastasia watched.
Silent. Still.
Her gaze followed them as hands began to tug at fabric, as control unraveled further, until suddenly Christian lifted Annabelle, her legs wrapping around him as if by instinct, and without slowing, he carried her inside.
The door remained open for only a mont.
Then they were gone.
And just like that, Anastasia was left alone outside.
Her small hands clenched without her noticing, her fingers tightening slightly at the sight. A faint, unfamiliar, unpleasant feeling stirred within her, subtle but undeniable, yet she couldn't place its origin.
It wasn't about decency.
And it certainly wasn't about them being siblings.
Those things had long since lost aning to soone at her level. Power stripped away such trivial boundaries.
In the end, she dismissed the feeling just as quickly as it ca, offering no comnt for mortals who seed to lose themselves after barely half a year apart.
Her gaze shifted instead.
Olivia. Aria. Sophia. Nina. Alpha. Each with her own reaction.
Then Iris, sulking, arms crossed, radiating the particular resentnt of soone who'd waited longest and still wasn't invited inside.
They stood there in an awkward silence, none of them quite knowing what to say, or whether they should say anything at all.
Anastasia's eyes settled on Iris, the only one she was even remotely familiar with.
For now, she would suffice.
A servant to show her around.
…
Inside—
Christian didn't slow.
The door remained open behind them, forgotten.
He kept Annabelle pinned to him, legs locked around his waist, her bare thighs squeezing like she'd never let go again. His mouth stayed fused to hers — slower now, deeper, like he was trying to crawl inside her through the kiss. Thumbs swept under her eyes again, catching the fresh tears that slipped free despite her efforts.
Her taste; familiar, warm, grounding — cut through the dryness in his chest like nothing else could.
Ho.
That was what she was.
Annabelle broke for air on a shaky inhale, forehead pressed to his. "You sll the sa," she whispered, voice splintering.
"God, I thought I'd forgotten now."
She was already grinding against the hard ridge of him through his jeans, needy little rolls of her hips that said mine mine mine louder than words.
Behind him, Eva stayed close.
She was still molded to his back, a furnace of need. Her breasts crushed against him with every breath; nipples hard points even through layers. One hand clawed under his torn shirt, nails scoring red lines down the muscles of his back — possessive, claiming territory she hadn't touched in too long. The other hand fumbled lower, popping the button on his jeans with trembling fingers.
"I've held back the whole fucking ride," Eva rasped against his ear, voice thick and fraying. "Every bump in the road, every ti you shifted and I slled you… I was dripping. Don't make beg in the goddamn hallway, Christian. Bedroom. Now. I need you inside before I lose my mind."
The raw plea snapped sothing in him.
And he lurched forward.
The three of them stumbling forward together, unbalanced, desperate, barely held together by instinct alone.
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