My Stalker Is My Stepbrother

I thought the eyes burning into my back for weeks belonged to a stranger. A masked shadow in alleys. A predator in the dark of a mirror maze who pinned me against glass, fingers deep inside me, growling “Red” while he unraveled me… then vanished, leaving me aching and furious. I never expected him to walk through my front door as my new stepbrother. Tall, inked, with storm-gray eyes that hate me on sight. Gray warns me to stay away, threatens to devour me if I don’t. We are playing a dangerous game of cat and mouse. But the walls between our rooms are thin, his scent lingers in every corner of this sprawling mansion, and every time our paths cross, the air crackles with the same lethal pull that started in the shadows. He stalked me before he was family. Now he’s under the same roof, watching closer than ever. Hating me. Wanting me. And I’m terrified of how badly I want him to finish what he started. Some obsessions don’t end when the mask comes off. They only get darker… and a whole lot closer to home.