My family my foe

The heat began as a tingle beneath my skin the moment those golden eyes found me across the club. Rafe's gaze had ignited something primal, something that now pulsed through my veins like liquid fire. My fingers trembled around the serving tray, the metal suddenly scorching against my palms.

  "Selene?" Mira's voice cut through the haze as she pressed a chilled glass into my hand. "You're shaking."

  I stared at the condensation dripping down the glass, unable to explain the wildfire in my blood. "I need air."

  The night should have cooled me. Instead, the summer air clung to my feverish skin as I stumbled home, every brush of fabric against my oversensitive flesh sending jolts of electricity through me. By the time I reached my tiny room, my uniform clung to my damp skin, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

  The dream came like a storm.

  Strong hands pinned me in the darkness, calloused fingers tracing burning paths across my skin. Hot breath whispered against my neck "Mine" the voice rough with possession. I arched into the touch, my body responding with an urgency that shocked me awake at dawn, my skin still humming with phantom touches.

  Morning light revealed Rosa hovering outside my door, her usual sneer replaced by something resembling fear. "Don Vitale demands your presence."

  The summons coiled in my stomach like a snake. Father's study door loomed before me, the carved wood suddenly a gateway to some new torment.

  "Enter."

  The sight of him froze me in the threshold.

  Don Vitale sat behind his desk, his face a grotesque patchwork of violence. His left ear hung by ragged sutures, the flesh around it mottled purple. A fresh scar bisected his eyebrow, the stitches pulling at his skin when he smiled.

  "Selene." He spread his hands in mock benevolence. "Sit."

  I remained standing, my fingers digging into my palms. "What happened to you?"

  "A business disagreement." His eye twitched. "I've decided you'll move to the east suite. New clothes. Whatever you require."

  The words slithered between us, heavy with unspoken threat.

  "Why?"

  "Can't a father care for his daughter?"

  The lie curdled in the air between us. I stared past his ruined face, past the carefully constructed facade, and saw the truth flickering in his eyes.

  Fear.

  Livia's shriek shattered the moment as we exited. "You're giving her my suite?"

  Father backhanded her without looking. The crack echoed through the hall. "You will remember your place."

  As Livia cradled her cheek, her wide eyes found mine over Father's shoulder not just angry now, but terrified.

  "Selene is family," Father hissed. "You will treat her as such." The coldness In his very familiar to me but oh so foreign to her.

  And I understood.

  This wasn't kindness.

  This was a warning.

  The east suite smelled like Livia rose perfume and cruelty.

  I stood frozen in the doorway, my worn bag hanging limply from my fingers, staring at the gilded cage my father had thrown me into. Sunlight streamed through floor to ceiling windows, glinting off the vanity's crystal bottles and the silk sheets draped over the massive four poster bed. Everything screamed luxury. Everything screamed hers.

  Livia lounged against the bedpost, her manicured fingers picking at the duvet. "You look like a stray dog in a jewelry store," she sneered.

  I stepped inside, my bare feet sinking into plush carpet that probably cost more than my life. "And you sound jealous."

  Her perfect face twisted. In three quick strides, she blocked my path to the wardrobe. "This is my room. My space. You'll never belong here."

  The old me would have lowered my eyes. The new me met her glare head on. "Funny. Father seems to disagree."

  A muscle in her jaw twitched. Behind us, servants carried in trunks of new clothes silks, laces, leather. One bumped into Livia's shoulder.

  She moved faster than I expected, her palm cracking across the maid's face. "Watch where you're going, filth!"

  The girl stumbled, her cheek already blooming red.

  Something hot and fierce uncoiled in my chest. Before I could think, I stepped between them, catching Livia's wrist mid swing. "Do that again," I said quietly, "and I'll break every finger."

  Silence.

  Livia's eyes widened not with fear, but something far more satisfying: shock. The realization that her punching bag had grown teeth.

  She yanked her hand free with a laugh that didn't reach her eyes. "Enjoy your victory while it lasts, sister." The door slammed behind her hard enough to rattle the chandelier.

  Alone, I exhaled shakily. The room felt too big, too bright, too saturated with her presence. I trailed my fingers along the vanity, smearing a streak of Livia's favorite red lipstick across the mirror like a wound.

  My reflection gave me pause.

  Had my eyes always been this sharp? This... gold tinged? I leaned closer, touching the unfamiliar flush creeping up my neck. My skin hummed, oversensitive in a way that had nothing to do with fear.

  Then it hit me a scent.

  Cedar. Smoke. Danger.

  My knees nearly buckled. Heat pooled low in my belly, my nipples pebbling beneath my thin dress. I gripped the vanity, breathing hard.

  What was happening to me?

  The wardrobe beckoned. Inside hung garments far darker, far finer than anything I'd ever owned black lace, silk so sheer it was sinful, leather belts that looked more like restraints.

  Not Livia's pastel aesthetic.

  Mine.

  A knock shattered the moment.

  Rosa stood there, her usual sneer replaced by something wary. "Don Vitale wants you at dinner tonight. Formal attire."

  I glanced at the emerald gown laid across the bed one I hadn't chosen. "Why?"

  Her throat bobbed. "The guests who stitched his ear back on are coming."

  The door clicked shut.

  Outside, thunder growled.

  Somewhere in the city, wolves were howling.