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“You’re not tired of fighting yet, son?” The voice echoes through his mind, low and mocking. “Why are you so eager to become nothing? To condemn us all to oblivion?”
Verso forces his eyes open and immediately grimaces as sharp pain lances through his skull. Breathing hurts. The metallic taste of blood coats his tongue. His father’s voice still lingers, oily and insistent, making it hard to grasp where he is or what just happened.
With a low groan, he pushes himself into a sitting position and looks around. Renoir had clearly dumped him in some forgotten ruins. They had been fighting near Old Lumiere, yet now only crumbling stone and silence surround him.
Another clash with his father, another defeat. Or at least another stalemate. It feels like Renoir is growing stronger with every encounter – strong enough to beat him badly this time.
Thirst burns like fire in his throat. His gaze falls on a metal flask lying in the dust, left there almost mockingly. Without thinking, Verso grabs it and drinks greedily. The water has a faint, oddly sweet aftertaste, but he doesn’t care. It soothes the raw dryness in his throat, and for a moment the relief is almost blissful.
He closes his eyes, just for a second. Exhaustion drags him under before he can fight it. He knows he should get up, should keep moving… but his body refuses.
“Verso…”
A hoarse, painfully familiar voice pulls him back from the darkness. It trembles with desperation and worry, so thick with concern that it almost makes him smile.
He feels a gentle touch on his cheek.
When he finally manages to focus, Alicia is leaning over him. She isn’t wearing her mask, though she rarely went anywhere without it. Her dark fencer’s uniform is covered in dust and grime, and her single remaining eye watches him with such raw, infinite anxiety that his chest tightens painfully.
“You’re… hurt,” she breathes.
Her fingers, clad in thin leather gloves, carefully peel back the torn edges of his shirt. Her brow furrows. Wounds on Verso usually closed within minutes, but this one refused to heal. A deep claw mark from their father’s lion still wept blood across his chest.
He hisses sharply when she presses near the gash – but the pain is already fading, shoved aside by something far stronger.
A thick, sweet scent floods his senses. Heady. Intoxicating. Completely out of place among the ruins. It smells like the flowers that once overflowed their mother’s greenhouse – warm, golden, and dangerously familiar. It’s the scent that clung to Aline’s skin when she tucked him in as a boy. The same delicate fragrance he used to chase when he buried his face in Alicia’s hair, holding her while she cried against his chest.
Alicia doesn’t notice the way her brother stares at her, unblinking.
She brushes damp strands of hair from his forehead, then reaches to ease the shredded cloak from his shoulders. Every small movement sends another wave of that maddening perfume rolling over him, wrapping around his mind like silk chains. Heat surges through his veins. His nerves pull taut as bowstrings. Blood rushes downward, heavy and insistent, swelling his cock against his will.
Verso inhales deeply, greedy for more.
When Alicia leans in too close, something inside him snaps. He grabs her by the shoulders, fingers crushing the stiff fabric of her doublet, and drags her down to the dusty floor beneath him.
“No!” Alicia cries out, eyes wide with shock and fear.
She strikes him hard across the face with all the trained strength in her arm. The crack of the slap echoes through the ruins. For a split second Verso freezes, stunned. Alicia seizes the moment and drives her boot into his injured chest, shoving him backward with brutal force. He slams into the crumbling wall.
He doesn’t understand what’s happening to him.
All he knows is that he needs her.
Alicia. Her warmth. Her quiet, stubborn kindness. Her body – so small and seemingly fragile next to his large, battle-scarred frame, yet so impossibly strong. As unbreakable as the spirit that not even fire could destroy.
He needs her like air. Like life itself.
Alicia scrambles backward until her shoulders hit the crumbling wall, chest heaving. Her hands shake as she frantically straightens her clothes. Fear twists her face, but she tries to push it down.
I haven’t done anything wrong, Verso tells himself. He only wants her close.
Despite the wounds tearing at his body, Verso pushes himself to his feet. Something primal urges him toward her, drawn irresistibly by the sweet floral scent clinging to her skin beneath the smell of ash and dust. The deep claw mark across his chest burns, blood blooming fresh across his shirt, yet the pain feels distant, muffled by the growing heat in his veins.
He takes a step toward her. Alicia flinches sharply, her gaze darting toward the dark opening of the exit.
Verso frowns.
She’s afraid of him.
The realization hits like a dull, ugly ache.
He lunges forward, wanting to reassure her that he would never hurt her, but a vicious pressure suddenly clamps around his throat. He chokes, staggering back and slamming his shoulder against stone. His hands fly up to his neck.
His fingers meet a smooth, seamless band locked tightly around his skin – no clasp, no buckle, nothing he can pry loose.
“What the hell…?” he rasps.
The world tilts, blurred by desperation.
Alicia is already on her feet. She doesn’t approach right away. She stands several paces away, wary, watching him like a wounded beast that might strike at any moment.
“Don’t… come any closer,” Verso forces out, pressing his fingers hard against his temples. “Alicia, leave. Run.”
His own voice sounds foreign to his ears.
Everything inside him screams in protest. He needs her to stay. Needs her close enough to grab, to hold, to keep.
“There’s something wrong with me…”
Alicia doesn’t move.
He can see the tremor in her narrow shoulders, the rapid rise and fall of her chest. She’s still terrified.
And yet she doesn’t run.
“Alicia…” His voice breaks. “Leave. Or kill me.”
She flinches at his words.
“I can’t,” she whispers, shaking her head and taking another cautious step forward. “Can’t just leave you like this.”
Verso nearly snarls through clenched teeth.
“Get away! Leave me!”
But Alicia keeps coming, slow and careful. When only a couple of steps remain between them, Verso’s restraint snaps. He grabs her wrist in a bruising grip. Alicia gasps and instinctively tries to pull back, but his fingers only tighten.
“Don’t come near me…” he repeats hoarsely, no longer sure if he’s begging or warning.
He yanks her down. Alicia loses her balance and sinks to her knees between his spread thighs.
For several long seconds, Verso simply stares down at her with a heavy, unfocused gaze.
She is so small.
Even now.
His grip slowly loosens. With his free hand, he brushes the tangled strands of hair from her scarred face with aching reverence. His fingers trace the rough ridges along her cheek and jaw, then gently tuck pale locks behind her ear, revealing the empty eye socket.
Alicia trembles faintly but doesn’t pull away.
“Still so beautiful…” he whispers, voice raw.
He leans down and presses his lips to her scarred cheek. The hardened skin should sober him. Instead, the hunger inside him sharpens into something painful. He kisses her again, closer to the corner of her mouth.
Alicia freezes. Her breath comes in short, uneven puffs against his skin. Before he can claim her lips, she speaks softly:
“Wait.”
Verso frowns. The word barely reaches him through the roaring heat in his head.
“What…?”
Alicia’s gaze shifts carefully to his neck, to the smooth, iridescent collar biting into his skin.
“Maybe… if we remove this, you’ll feel better.”
Verso swallows hard.
He had almost forgotten the collar. Almost. Everything else – her scent, her warmth, the soft curve of her lips just inches away – had become so much more important.
Alicia slowly raises her hand. Her gloved fingers brush the collar, grazing the stubble on his jaw.
Verso inhales sharply through his teeth. The touch shoots through him like electricity, settling as heavy, throbbing heat low in his gut. Every nerve feels raw, exposed.
“Don’t…” he breathes, clinging to the last shreds of reason.
Alicia doesn’t seem to hear him. Her fingers tremble slightly as they search for a clasp near his throat. Verso watches her, mesmerized by her reckless courage. She has always been stubborn. Reckless.
He catches her hand and slowly peels the glove off, finger by finger. Pale, almost translucent skin emerges from the dark leather, and the sight steals his breath. Her hand looks heartbreakingly small in his.
Before he can stop himself, he brings her wrist to his lips and kisses it, grazing the delicate skin with his teeth. He closes his eyes and inhales deeply, drowning in her scent. It has become more essential than air.
He feels her pulse racing under his mouth.
“Verso…” she whispers.
He looks up. In the distance, wind howls and waves crash against cliffs. They must be near the coast.
Her face is so close now. He notices everything – dust on her lashes, the tiny cracks in her dry lips, the wet gleam of her single eye.
Suddenly her hand begins to slip from his grasp. Alicia looks at him searchingly.
“Verso…”
He doesn’t let go. Instead, he tightens his hold, terrified that if he loosens his grip even for a second, she’ll disappear.
“Don’t leave,” he breathes.
Something shifts in Alicia’s expression. Fear breaks through her careful mask of calmness. She plants her free hand on his shoulder and tries to push herself up. Panic explodes inside Verso.
No.
His arm snakes around her waist and yanks her back against him. Alicia gasps as she’s pulled flush to his chest.
“Let me go,” she whispers.
He shakes his head, barely conscious of the movement.
“I can’t,” he admits hoarsely.
Before she can protest again, Verso captures her mouth in a deep, starving kiss. He kisses her like a man drowning, desperate to fill the emptiness inside him with her breath, her warmth, her very being.
Alicia stiffens in shock, then begins to struggle.
“Verso… no…”
With a grimace of horror and disgust, she turns her face away, but he follows, kissing her cheek, her jaw, barely aware of what he’s doing. Everything inside him is melting in a feverish haze.
He needs her.
Only her.
Alicia shoves at his chest. Verso hisses in pain as her palm accidentally presses against his wound.
“Stop… please…”
He pants against her neck. Her words reach him as if underwater, unable to penetrate the thick fog clouding his mind.
“I’ll call Papa,” Alicia says, voice breaking. “He can help—”
Something twists painfully inside Verso.
Father.
For a split second he sees Renoir’s dark silhouette, blood on teeth, the sound of breaking bones, that voice full of contempt.
And ice-cold terror.
No.
No.
Renoir would take her away again.
“No…” he growls, pressing his forehead to her shoulder. “Not him.”
He wraps both arms around her, fingers digging hard into her slim waist. Alicia goes still – suspiciously fast. The dust in the air freezes mid-swirl. Time itself seems to hesitate.
He knows exactly what she’s about to do.
Panic surges through him.
“Don’t you dare,” he snarls.
Faster than thought, he yanks her arms behind her back. Alicia cries out and begins struggling wildly. She’s no longer trying to reason with him – only breathing hard through gritted teeth.
Verso grabs her belt, yanks it free, and binds her wrists behind her back with clumsy, trembling hands. The knot is crude and brutally tight.
Only when she jerks desperately against the restraint does he realize what he’s done.
Alicia stares up at him, her single eye wide with horror. Pale hair sticks to her tear-damp cheeks.
“I’m sorry…so-so sorry,” he breathes, barely audible, as he lowers her onto the cold stone floor. “But you can’t leave me.”
He kisses her again, harder this time. Alicia trembles beneath his weight as his tongue traces her lips, demanding entry. She responds awkwardly, hesitantly, and it only spurs him on.
She’s so pliant. So inexperienced. Her shoulders tremble with tension, as if she doesn’t know what she’s supposed to do next. A dark, possessive thought pierces the haze in his mind: no one has ever touched her like this. He should be the one to teach her.
His palm cradles her scarred cheek as he deepens the kiss, groaning into her mouth. His other hand works at the fastenings of her doublet.
Alicia wrenches her face away.
“No…”
He barely hears her. Or doesn’t want to.
The fabric finally gives way. Buttons scatter across the stone. Beneath the doublet is a thin shirt. Verso’s hungry gaze traces the old burn scars peeking from the collar.
“Don’t look,” Alicia snaps, sudden and sharp.
He hears the shame and pain in her voice. He remembers how she used to hide when changing bandages, how she avoided mirrors, how she flinched from anyone’s gaze after the fire.
Verso lifts his eyes to her face and smiles tenderly. His sweet sister still doesn’t understand how beautiful she is.
With a sharp tug, he tears the shirt open. Buttons fly. Old scars snake across her neck, collarbones, and chest. Her small, pale breasts with soft pink nipples rise and fall with shaky breaths.
A deep flush spreads across Alicia’s cheeks. She turns her face away, refusing to meet his eyes. Verso leans down and slowly trails his lips over the unnaturally smooth scarred skin, kissing every mark with aching devotion. Alicia lets out a quiet, broken whimper.
“Let me go,” she begs.
Verso pauses, as if considering it. He knows, somewhere deep down, that what he’s doing is wrong. But he can’t stop. He can’t lose her again.
“I won’t hurt you,” he whispers. “Not unless you ask me to.”
His palm strokes soothingly over her stomach, then moves lower. He unfastens her trousers. Alicia squeezes her thighs together, trying to stop him as he drags the fabric and her underwear down her legs.
Her pale thighs are dusted with faint freckles, like pollen on the flower petals. Verso’s mouth waters at the sight of soft gray curls between her legs. He gently traces the sharp lines of her hip bones.
He slides lower, gripping her pale thighs with both hands. His fingers dig in hard enough to leave white imprints that slowly bloom pink beneath them. Alicia jerks and twists, but with her wrists bound behind her back she has no leverage. She can only arch helplessly as he forces her legs wider apart.
The sight of her soft pink folds makes his mouth flood with saliva. He leans in without hesitation and presses his mouth to her.
She tastes innocent – faintly salty, faintly sweet, like warm milk and honey. A low, hungry sound rumbles in his chest as his tongue drags slowly through her delicate slit, parting the tender flesh, savoring her. Alicia’s whole body jolts. Her thighs try to clamp shut, but he holds her open, merciless. This is her first time. No one has ever touched her here.
He kisses her cunt deeply, like he would her mouth – open-mouthed and wet. His tongue circles her clit before dipping lower, pushing into her tight entrance where her walls flutter and clench around the unfamiliar intrusion. Her reluctant arousal begins to slick his tongue, mixing with his saliva. Verso drinks her down greedily, growling against her folds. The vibration travels straight through her, making her small pale nipples tighten into stiff peaks.
Alicia bites her lip until it bleeds. Her cheeks burn crimson, eyes squeezed shut. Only a broken, trembling whimper escapes her throat – not quite a plea, not quite a protest. Her bound hands clench into fists, nails digging into her own palms. She tries to pull away but the movement only presses her harder against his ravenous mouth.
Verso looks up at her without stopping, his eyes dark and gleaming with feral hunger. He pulls back for a moment, only to drag his tongue slowly from her dripping entrance all the way up to her swollen clit, collecting every drop of her sweetness. Then he seals his lips around the sensitive bud and sucks – gently at first, then harder.
Her thighs begin to shake.
One of his hands slides up her body, tracing the old burn scars across her chest before pinching a stiff nipple.
“So sweet…” he murmurs directly into her wet heat, the hot breath making her twitch. “You taste so fucking sweet.”
Alicia lets out another broken sob, almost soundless. Her cunt is soaked now, glistening under his relentless tongue. Every slow circle, every thrust of his tongue deeper inside her makes her walls flutter and squeeze. He can feel her getting closer – the way her breathing fractures, the way her hips start to rock despite herself.
Pleasure crashes into her without warning.
She arches hard off the stone floor, as much as her bound arms allow, a long, shuddering cry tearing from her throat. A hot rush of wetness floods his mouth as she comes. Verso doesn’t pull away for a second. He keeps licking her through it, tongue gliding over her fluttering folds, drinking every pulse, every tremor, chasing the waves as they roll through her body.
He doesn’t stop.
Even as her orgasm begins to fade and her cunt clenches in sweet, weakening spasms, he continues licking her – slower now, almost tender. He wants her to remember this. Wants her body to crave it.
When he finally lifts his head, his lips and chin are shiny with her slick and his saliva. He licks his lips slowly, deliberately, savoring the taste with a low, satisfied hum. His gaze never leaves Alicia’s flushed face.
She looks beautifully ruined – cheeks burning red, lips parted, breathing ragged. Nothing like the pale, distant shadow he’s grown used to. For the first time in a long while, she looks vividly, painfully alive.
Verso pushes himself up onto his knees, breathing hard. His cock strains painfully against his trousers, throbbing so violently it borders on agony. The wound across his chest pulses with every movement, a dull, heavy ache that only feeds the fire raging through his veins. The sweet, maddening scent of Alicia’s skin and slick fills his lungs, driving him half-mad.
He yanks his trousers open and frees his heavy, aching length. Thick, veined, and flushed dark, the head already glistening with precum.
Alicia stares at him with wide, terrified eyes. Verso leans over her, cupping her scarred cheek with surprising gentleness, and whispers hoarsely:
“Shh, good girl… Don’t be afraid. I’ll be careful.”
He takes himself in hand and drags the swollen head slowly through her soaked folds, coating his cock in her slick. Every pass over her swollen clit makes her whole body jerk. Her breathing fractures into desperate little gasps.
He presses against her entrance and begins to push in. Slowly. Inch by inch. Her hot, impossibly tight virgin cunt resists him. Alicia tenses beneath him, a choked, broken sound escaping her damaged throat. He keeps going, relentless, until he meets the fragile barrier. With one firm, careful thrust, he breaks through.
She arches sharply under him with a strangled cry.
Verso freezes for a heartbeat, savoring the way her walls flutter and clench around his cock. Then the hunger takes over. He starts moving – slow at first, then faster, harder, driving into her with wet, obscene sounds. Each powerful thrust makes her small breasts bounce, the old scars on her skin gleaming with sweat.
He finally has what he has craved for so long – his sister, completely, utterly his. And yet it isn’t enough. The hunger only sharpens, turning darker, more vicious.
Suddenly the collar around his neck tightens brutally. Air stops. His vision narrows to a pinpoint. The world shrinks to the searing heat of her cunt around him. Verso snarls, eyes darkening with feral need, but he doesn’t stop – he fucks her even harder, pounding into her with desperate, punishing strokes. His blood roars in his ears. Pleasure and pain twist together until they’re indistinguishable.
The collar squeezes tighter. His sight blurs.
And then orgasm slams into him with brutal force.
He buries himself to the hilt and comes hard, flooding her depths with thick, endless pulses of his seed. The collar loosens as suddenly as it had constricted. Verso chokes out a broken groan and collapses on top of her, barely conscious, his face buried in her hair. His bleeding chest presses against hers, smearing blood across her skin.
His cum leaks out of her in thick rivulets, dripping down her pale thighs.
Then he feels it – her arms, now free, slowly wrapping around him. Her slender fingers slide into his hair, stroking the back of his head with gentle, soothing caresses.
Verso cannot move. He can only lie there, panting against the curve of her neck, drunk on her scent and the aftershocks still pulsing through his body.
Suddenly Alicia turns her head. With great effort, Verso follows her gaze.
Renoir stands near the crumbling wall – a dark, motionless silhouette against cracked concrete. He watches them for several long seconds, then gives Alicia a slow, almost approving nod. Without a word, he turns and melts back into the shadows.