Chapter 2: Stepbrother Sparks

Morning came too fast, the city streets already alive with the noise of car horns, sirens, and the hum of life that never stopped. Ari yawned, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she leaned against the chipped counter of the apartment she shared with her mom. The smell of strong coffee and toasted bread filled the small kitchen, grounding her in the mundane—but only for a moment.

“Where’s my sister?” she muttered, glancing toward the living room. The couch cushions were bare, the blinds drawn back to catch the early sunlight.

“Sleeping,” came the voice that made her stomach twist in ways it shouldn’t.

Ari froze. The voice wasn’t her sister’s. It was him.

Kai. Her stepbrother. Not biologically, but still—dangerously close in every sense of the word. He had moved in after his mother’s sudden death, a figure from her mom’s past that now intersected with Ari’s life. Tall, lean, dark eyes sharp and assessing, and a smile that could make her think things she swore she wouldn’t.

He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching her as if he could read her thoughts. Ari’s pulse quickened. She told herself it was the coffee. Or maybe the early morning heat radiating off the radiator. But no. It was him. Always him.

“Morning,” he said casually, but there was a weight to it, a low vibration in his voice that pressed against her chest.

“Morning,” she replied, keeping it short. Her fingers drummed against the counter.

He didn’t move, didn’t leave. Just stood there, tall and calm and infuriatingly human—and yet not. There was something about him she couldn’t quite put her finger on. The way he smelled—like cedar and storm rain. The way his gaze lingered on her longer than polite.

“Coffee?” she asked, trying to break the tension, but her voice betrayed her.

He smiled faintly, and it hit her like a shockwave. The kind of smile that promised trouble, excitement, and things she knew were off-limits.

“I’ll take one,” he said, stepping closer, and Ari’s stomach did a backflip.

Her chest tightened as he brushed past her, shoulder to shoulder, and she swore she could feel the hum of his body, the subtle heat that shouldn’t be this intense.

“You’re awake early,” he said, leaning against the counter now, close enough that she could feel the faint brush of his sleeve against hers.

“Yeah. Had… things to do,” she murmured, heart hammering. Her pulse betrayed her calm facade.

Kai’s lips quirked in amusement, and he tilted his head. “Things, huh? Dangerous things, maybe?”

Her stomach lurched. He knew. Not the literal details, but the electricity that surged between them. The danger she couldn’t—or wouldn’t—ignore.

A moment passed. Silence thick enough to taste. Then a distant roar echoed from the city streets, low and guttural. Her ears perked up. Her instincts screamed at her, a warning she couldn’t name. Kai stiffened next to her, sharp as a predator, scanning the window like he could sense the threat before it arrived.

“It’s nothing,” she said quickly, but her voice wavered.

He didn’t buy it. Never did. His dark eyes narrowed slightly, assessing her, testing her. “You’re always on edge, aren’t you?” he said, almost gently, almost teasing. But there was something in his tone, a warning buried beneath the casual words.

“I’m fine,” she lied. But this time, she knew he could feel it—the tremor of fear, the thrill, the unspoken longing.

Kai’s lips brushed his teeth in a grin. “You lie a lot.”

And there it was—the spark. Electric. Dangerous. Forbidden.

She wanted to step back, wanted to create the space she knew she should—but instead, she let herself linger in the heat of his presence.

Her phone buzzed on the counter, jolting her. She grabbed it, her hand brushing his again. Sparks. Static. A pull she couldn’t fight.

The text was from her mom: Don’t forget we have dinner with Dante tonight.

Her chest constricted. Dante. The forbidden one from last night, the one whose presence haunted her like a ghost she couldn’t shake.

Kai’s gaze flicked down at her hands, then up to her face. “You’re thinking about him,” he said.

Her stomach flipped. How could he know? How could anyone know?

She shook her head. “I’m not.”

“You are.” His voice was low, teasing, intimate. Dangerous. “You like him. Don’t lie to me.”

“I… It’s complicated,” she admitted, because it was. Dante was a fire she couldn’t touch, and yet Kai was an ember smoldering dangerously close, tugging at her in ways that made her question everything she thought she knew.

Her pulse thudded in her ears. They were standing too close, the kitchen suddenly smaller, hotter, charged with something unspoken. Something forbidden.

And then the distant howl came again, closer this time, resonating through the walls of the apartment. Both of them stiffened. It wasn’t just the city streets anymore. Something primal, dangerous, and alive was moving closer.

Kai’s hand brushed hers again, but this time intentionally. He didn’t pull away. His eyes glinted with something unreadable. Protectiveness? Hunger? Both? Ari didn’t dare guess.

“You should be careful,” he said, voice low, almost a growl. “Tonight, the city isn’t just dangerous because of the streets.”

Her stomach turned over. She wanted to ask what he meant, wanted to fight it, wanted to run—but she stayed. Her instincts, her body, her curiosity… all of it screamed to stay close.

Something in the way he moved, the tension in his body, the predatory tilt of his head, told her one thing: Kai was not just a stepbrother. Not just a boy with dangerous charm. There was something else beneath the surface. Something wild. Something she shouldn’t want.

The air between them thickened, heavy with forbidden desire and unspoken rules. Her heart raced, a drum she couldn’t quiet, and she realized with a jolt that she was standing on the edge of something she couldn’t control.

The city outside roared, alive and predatory. And so were they.

Ari swallowed hard, trying to steady herself. Kai’s presence was intoxicating. Too close. Too dangerous. And every instinct told her that this… tension… this pull… was only the beginning.

Because in a city that never slept, under a moon that never hid, desire and danger didn’t just coexist—they thrived.

And she was about to learn just how close.