Chapter 18
Eighteen
LAN
Somewhere between breakfast and World War III breaking out in our hallway, I realized my life had become a romantic comedy—the kind where the protagonist couldn’t catch a break.
Not even a small one. The universe was probably sitting back with popcorn, enjoying the show while I floundered through my sexual awakening with the worst possible candidates: my stepbrothers.
Nico had claimed the shower first—fair enough, he was up and ready for breakfast before I’d even managed to pry my eyes open.
What wasn’t fair was him taking approximately three centuries to finish.
I swear he was probably recreating the entire evolution of mankind in there, complete with the invention of fire and the wheel.
“Nico!” I banged on the door, channeling my inner angry landlord. “Some of us would like to shower before we reach retirement age! I’ve already started growing a beard out here!”
“Just five more minutes!” he called back cheerfully, his voice barely audible over what sounded like a one-man Broadway production. “I’m at the conditioning stage!”
“The conditioning stage of what? Building the pyramids?”
Behind me, Wei snickered, the sound sliding down my spine like ice water. “My, my, what happened to that Celestial Peach grace? Banging on doors like some angry spirit? Though I suppose after last night, grace isn’t your primary concern.”
The mention of last night sent a flash of heat through me, memories of Jaxson’s lips on mine, his hands on my skin, the way he’d whispered instructions against my mouth as he taught me how to kiss.
My body betrayed me with a full-body shiver that Wei definitely noticed, judging by his widening smirk.
The air around us seemed to grow warmer, that strange honey-sweet scent rising from my skin again.
I shot him my best death glare, which probably had all the intimidation factor of an angry kitten trying to threaten a lion. “Don’t you have weights to worship or protein shakes to marry? I heard the gym misses its most devoted stalker.”
“Oh, but watching you is so much more entertaining.” His knowing smirk made me want to crawl under the floorboards and possibly relocate to Antarctica. “Especially after such an… eventful night. I can practically smell the aftermath, you know.”
The way he emphasized “eventful” and “smell” made it clear he knew exactly what had happened.
Or at least suspected. My stomach twisted with a mixture of embarrassment and something darker, more possessive.
Last night with Jaxson felt sacred, private—not something to be dissected over morning coffee by my demonic half brother.
Before I could respond—or possibly commit fratricide, I hadn’t decided yet—Nico finally emerged in a cloud of steam so thick it could have hosted its own weather system.
He looked fresh and perky like he hadn’t spent all night gaming, already changed into a bright graphic tee featuring some game character I didn’t recognize, paired with cargo shorts and—were those limited edition sneakers that cost more than my monthly wage?
“All yours!” he chirped, completely oblivious to my impending nervous breakdown. “I left you some hot water. Maybe. If you can find it somewhere between the Paleolithic and Mesozoic eras.”
I dove into the bathroom like it was offering sanctuary from Wei’s knowing looks and the universe’s personal vendetta against my dignity.
The steam enveloped me immediately, hot and thick against my skin, carrying the lingering scent of Nico’s body wash—something aggressively masculine with undertones of synthetic pine.
I stripped quickly, avoiding my reflection in the fogged mirror.
I wasn’t ready to see if last night’s activities had somehow marked me, changed me in ways that would be visible to everyone.
My shower ended up being a rushed affair of soap and prayers, but at least I managed to wash my hair without drowning myself in panic about last night’s…
activities with Jaxson. Though the way my brain kept helpfully replaying certain moments wasn’t exactly conducive to maintaining normal blood pressure.
The phantom sensation of his tongue against mine, the way his hands had mapped my body with such confidence, the deep rumble of his voice, all of it played on a loop in my head, my body responding with embarrassing enthusiasm.
As I rinsed off, I noticed that honey-sweet scent again, stronger when the water hit my skin, as if the heat was releasing it from my pores. It was getting harder to ignore—a mix of honey, cherry blossoms, and lilies that seemed to follow me everywhere now.
When I emerged, wrapped in a towel that suddenly felt more like a handkerchief, I made the tactical error of glancing down the hallway. The sudden silence was deafening, the kind that makes you wonder if you’ve accidentally stepped into a parallel dimension where sound doesn’t exist.
I clutched my towel tighter, painfully aware of how small it suddenly felt under five pairs of eyes.
If there was ever a moment to develop spontaneous invisibility powers, this would be it.
Droplets of water traced cold paths down my spine, raising goosebumps in their wake—or maybe that was the intensity of the gazes fixed on me.
What shocked me most was the way my three older stepbrothers reacted.
Their pupils visibly dilated, nostrils flaring slightly as if catching a scent—my scent?
—that affected them deeply. That strange warmth I’d felt with Jaxson last night seemed to expand, reaching out toward all three of them.
I could almost see it, like golden threads connecting us.
Wei’s voice cut through the thick silence like a particularly amused knife. “If you’re trying to give our brothers collective heart failure, Shrine Maiden, I’d say mission accomplished. Should I call an ambulance now or wait until they remember how to breathe?”
I risked another glance up, immediately regretting it when I met Jaxson’s eyes.
The intensity in them made my knees weak, memories of last night threatening to short-circuit my brain completely.
The hunger in his gaze was unmistakable now that I knew what it meant, what it promised.
Those amber-gold eyes seemed to glow in the hallway light, fixing on me with predatory focus.
Who needed coffee when you had that kind of voltage first thing in the morning?
“Lan?” His voice did things to my insides that I refused to analyze, preferably ever. It was deeper than usual, rough around the edges like he’d swallowed gravel. “Hurry and get dressed.”
Right. Clothes. Those things normal people wear instead of standing in hallways having minor meltdowns while their stupidly attractive stepbrothers stared at them like they were either going to eat me alive or spontaneously combust. Though why they were all looking at me like that was beyond my comprehension.
It’s not like they hadn’t seen me in a towel before.
Well, not since the other night, but—nope, not going there.
My brain had enough problems staying functional as it was.
I retreated to my room, face burning hotter than Wei’s post-workout protein shake, the plush carpet soft beneath my bare feet.
The only clean thing I could find was one of Jaxson’s old t-shirts—a worn gray one with HARD WORKER printed across the chest, though most of the middle letters had faded badly, leaving the remaining ones barely legible and distressed-looking.
The cotton was soft against my skin as I pulled it over my head, carrying traces of Jaxson's scent—expensive cologne, fabric softener, and something uniquely him that made my heart race. It felt right somehow, wearing his clothes, like it connected us on some fundamental level that I couldn’t quite explain.
Paired with my shortest shorts, I looked like an advertisement for…
something that definitely wasn’t appropriate for family viewing.
Or any viewing. Maybe I could just stay in my room forever?
Build a blanket fort and become a hermit?
When I emerged again, I nearly tripped over my own feet, which was impressive considering I was standing still. “Um.” I tugged at the hem of my—Jaxson’s—shirt, suddenly feeling like I’d shown up to a fashion show in my pajamas. “Did I miss the memo about this being a formal mall trip?”
Because seriously. Who told my stepbrothers they needed to dress like models for shopping?
The way those jeans fit Jaxson and how his dress shirt hugged his shoulders while the rolled sleeves showed off his forearms was just…
illegal. It had to be illegal somewhere.
I made a mental note to look up international fashion laws later.
Colt looked like he’d walked straight off a runway in his crisp button-down and designer jeans, while Xander’s trendy black V-neck probably cost more than my weekly paycheck. Times ten. With overtime. The way the fabric clung to his chest should have required a permit.
“Is this some kind of intervention?” I asked, trying to hide behind my still-damp hair like it was a shield against their collective fashion assault.
“Because if you’re all staging a ‘Lan needs fashion help’ intervention, this seems a bit excessive.
Did you raid a GQ photoshoot on your way to breakfast? ”
“Speaking of fashion help”—Wei’s smirk grew impossibly wider as he read my shirt—“that’s an… interesting choice of words you’re wearing, Little Fox.”
I glanced down, horror dawning as I realized the worn letters now basically screamed ‘HARD…ER’ across my chest. Perfect.
Just perfect. Maybe I could still make that blanket fort?
The flush that had started at my cheeks was rapidly migrating south, warming my neck and chest in a way that was painfully visible against my pale skin.