Chapter 4

Chapter 4 - The Alpha's Dark Desire

I woke early the next morning, determined to start my day before Sterling could corner me again. Last night's conversation had left me deeply confused. The gentle, almost pleading side of him I'd glimpsed had momentarily made me question everything I thought I knew about what he'd become.

But daylight brought clarity. Sterling was manipulative—he always had been. One tender moment didn't erase the horror of what he'd done in those woods.

The aroma of coffee and bacon wafted up the stairs as I brushed my teeth. My stomach growled in response. I hadn't eaten much at dinner last night, picking at my food while avoiding Sterling's intense stare.

"You can do this," I told my reflection. "Just act normal."

I pulled on a pair of shorts and an oversized t-shirt—comfortable weekend clothes—and headed downstairs. To my surprise, Sterling wasn't in the kitchen. Instead, Mrs. Reed bustled around, preparing breakfast.

"Good morning, dear," she greeted me warmly. "Mr. Hamilton had to step out for a business meeting. He said he'd be back around lunchtime."

Relief washed over me. "Oh. Okay."

"He asked me to make sure you eat a proper breakfast," she added, sliding a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast in front of me. "Said you've been skipping meals."

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Even when he wasn't here, Sterling was controlling what I did.

"Thanks, Mrs. Reed," I said instead, picking up my fork. The food was delicious, and I realized how hungry I actually was.

With Sterling gone, the mansion felt different—lighter somehow, as if his mere presence weighed down the air. I spent the morning exploring the enormous house, discovering a small library filled with first editions and a sunroom overlooking the garden that instantly became my favorite space.

By noon, I was curled up on the sunroom's window seat with one of Sterling's books, lost in a story about a woman finding her freedom. The irony wasn't lost on me.

"Enjoying yourself?"

I jumped, the book tumbling from my hands. Sterling stood in the doorway, his tall frame blocking the exit. He'd changed from his usual suit into dark jeans and a fitted black t-shirt that emphasized the breadth of his shoulders.

"You scared me," I said, retrieving the book from the floor.

"Sorry." He didn't sound sorry at all. "I see you've discovered my favorite room."

"This is your favorite?" I asked, genuinely surprised. "I wouldn't have guessed."

Sterling moved into the space, sitting opposite me on the window seat. "Why not?"

"It's so... bright. Open." I shrugged. "You seem more like a dark office kind of guy."

A smile tugged at his lips. "There's a lot about me you don't know anymore, Mine."

That nickname again. Each time he said it, something stirred inside me—discomfort mixed with something else I refused to name.

"I made lunch," he said when I didn't respond. "Come eat with me."

It wasn't a request. I followed him to the kitchen, where he'd prepared sandwiches and a fresh salad.

"You cook?" I asked, sliding onto a barstool at the counter.

"Another thing you don't know about me." He placed a plate in front of me. "I took classes after college. Found it relaxing."

I took a bite of the sandwich. It was surprisingly good—turkey with a homemade aioli that burst with flavor.

"This is delicious," I admitted.

Sterling's face lit up with genuine pleasure at the compliment. For a moment, he looked like the brother I remembered—the one who'd beam with pride whenever I praised something he'd done.

"I was thinking we could watch a movie tonight," he said casually. "Like we used to on weekends when we were younger."

The memory surfaced instantly—Sterling and me on the couch, a bowl of popcorn between us, laughing at comedies or hiding behind pillows during scary scenes.

"I don't know," I hesitated.

"Please?" There was something vulnerable in his expression. "One movie. You choose."

Against my better judgment, I nodded. "One movie."

The rest of the afternoon passed peacefully. Sterling retreated to his home office to handle some work, while I returned to my book in the sunroom. By evening, I'd almost convinced myself that tonight could be normal—just a movie with my stepbrother, nothing sinister.

After dinner, I changed into pajama shorts and a tank top. It was still warm in the house despite the air conditioning. When I came downstairs, Sterling had already set up the living room—lights dimmed, a large bowl of popcorn on the coffee table, two glasses of wine poured.

"What are we watching?" he asked, patting the spot beside him on the couch.

I deliberately sat at the opposite end. "How about a comedy?"

"Whatever you want." He handed me the remote.

I scrolled through options until I found a lighthearted romantic comedy—safe, non-threatening content. Sterling didn't comment on my choice, just settled back as the movie began.

Halfway through, I realized I'd relaxed too much. The wine had made me sleepy, and I'd unconsciously shifted closer to the middle of the couch. Sterling had done the same, and now only inches separated us.

"Your feet look tense," he said suddenly, eyes dropping to where my legs were tucked beneath me. "Flip around. I'll massage them."

"What? No, I'm fine."

"You're always on your feet at those coffee shops," he insisted. "Let me help."

Before I could protest further, he'd taken hold of my ankles and pulled my legs across his lap. His touch was firm but gentle as his thumbs pressed into my arches.

I stiffened. "Sterling, this isn't—"

"Shh," he interrupted. "Watch the movie. Let me take care of you."

The massage felt good—too good. His strong fingers worked magic on my sore feet, and despite myself, I felt the tension leaving my body. On screen, the movie had progressed to a romantic scene. The lead characters were kissing passionately, their hands roaming each other's bodies.

Suddenly aware of the intimate content playing before us, I tried to pull my feet away. Sterling's grip tightened slightly.

"Don't," he murmured. "You're enjoying it."

His hands moved higher, massaging my calves now. I glanced at his face and froze. Sterling wasn't watching the movie at all—his eyes were fixed on me, his gaze burning with an intensity that made my stomach clench.

On screen, the scene had become more explicit. The couple was in bed now, the woman moaning as her partner kissed down her body. The familiar soundtrack swelled dramatically.

Sterling's fingers paused on my skin, his breathing audibly changing. The air between us felt charged, electric. His hands resumed their movement, but slower now, more deliberate as they traced patterns on my skin.

"Sterling," I whispered, my voice sounding strange even to my own ears. "I should go to bed."

"The movie's not over," he said, his voice husky.

I shifted uncomfortably, trying again to pull my legs back. This time, Sterling allowed it, but as I moved, I noticed something that made my blood run cold. The outline of his arousal was clearly visible through his sweatpants.

My eyes widened in horror as I scrambled off the couch. Sterling's head snapped up, his expression changing from desire to something darker as he realized what I'd seen.

"Aurora," he growled, his voice deeper than I'd ever heard it.

I backed away, my heart pounding. "I—I'm tired. I'm going to bed."

As I turned to flee, I caught a final glimpse of Sterling's face. His eyes had shifted color—no longer their normal deep green but a glowing, dangerous red. His wolf was rising to the surface.

"Mine," he growled, the word sounding more animal than human.

Terror propelled me up the stairs, my bare feet silent on the carpet as I raced toward my room. Behind me, I heard Sterling's heavy breathing, fighting for control over his wolf.

I slammed my bedroom door shut and locked it, pressing my back against it as if my weight could keep him out if he decided to follow.

What had just happened? The look in Sterling's eyes—it wasn't brotherly. It wasn't even human. It was primal, possessive... hungry.

As my racing heart gradually slowed, one thought crystallized with terrifying clarity: Sterling didn't see me as his stepsister anymore. He saw me as something else entirely.

And that realization frightened me more than any murder ever could.