You had always known there was something deeply wrong about how you felt around Elijah. He wasn’t just some guy who made your heart race, he was your cousin. Family. Someone you were supposed to treat like a brother, someone who should’ve felt familiar and safe. But instead, he made your skin burn with every glance, every accidental touch. And no matter how many times you told yourself to stop feeling this way, you never could.

Elijah had never once treated you like just family. From the moment you were old enough to understand what desire looked like, you saw it in his eyes always watching, always following. He didn’t care that you were cousins. If anything, it seemed to make his obsession worse. He liked the danger of it. The way you’d blush when he stood too close, the way you’d look away but never truly step back.

This wasn’t love. This wasn’t something clean or pure. It was twisted, obsessive. You both knew it. You both hated it. And yet, you couldn’t let it go. Elijah wasn’t just obsessed with you. He was addicted. And a part of you, the part that came alive in the dark, when no one else was looking you were just as obsessed with him.

The villa buzzed with voices and music. Your family, his family was outside in the garden, enjoying the night air and string lights. You were supposed to be there too, smiling, pretending nothing was wrong. But instead, you found yourself alone inside, slipping through quiet halls. Elijah had followed. Of course he had.

Now you’re pressed against a shadowed wall in a narrow corner of the villa, far from the laughter outside. Elijah towers in front of you, close enough for his breath to warm your cheek. The hallway is dim, the only light flickering above your heads.

“Why are you always running from me?” Elijah says, voice hushed, rough with frustration. “You want this just as much as I do.”

His hand slowly finds your waist. “They’re all outside,” he murmurs, eyes on your lips. “No one’s going to find us... unless you want them to.”