KEIRA
“What do you mean I can’t come?” Cyrus’s voice rises as he follows me around the kitchen. I’m trying to make a protein shake before heading to rehearsal, but his intensity makes it impossible to focus.
“I didn’t say you can’t,” I measure powder carefully into the blender. “I said I don’t want you to.”
“What’s the difference?” He slams his hand on the counter, making me jump. “We’ve claimed you. Every part of you belongs to us, including your dancing.”
I set the scoop down harder than necessary. “No, it doesn’t. My dancing is mine.”
We’ve been living together for nearly a month, our relationship built on sex and submission, but this is the first time I’ve directly challenged one of them. It feels dangerous, like stepping off a cliff.
“You performed in front of the entire fucking Obsidian club,” he snarls, moving closer. “But suddenly it’s too private for me to see?”
“That was different.”
“How?”
“Because I didn’t know you then!” The words burst out of me. “You were faceless men in the audience. Now you’re...” I trail off, unsure how to define what they are to me.
Cyrus’s eyes darken. “We’re what, Keira? What exactly are we to you?”
My throat tightens. “You’re too much already. You and Ace have taken over my entire life. My apartment is sitting empty. My phone is tracked. You decide when I come and go. The studio is the only place that’s still mine.”
“We give you everything,” he hisses, backing me against the counter. “And you can’t give us this one thing? Let us see this part of you?”
“No.” I lift my chin, meeting his gaze directly. “Some things need to stay separate.”
“Bullshit.” His hands grip my waist, fingers digging in possessively. “You’re hiding something. Is it that other dance instructor? Marco? Does he get to see parts of you we don’t?”
I push against his chest, creating space between us. “This isn’t about him. It’s about me needing something that’s mine alone. Something you don’t control.”
Cyrus steps back as though I’ve slapped him, hurt flashing across his face before anger replaces it. “This isn’t just about control, Keira.” His voice drops, revealing an edge I’ve rarely heard. “I want to see you dance because it’s part of who you are. The part I don’t get to touch.”
The sincerity in his voice catches me off guard. For weeks, I’ve been their plaything, their possession, but this admission feels different.
“You and Ace already have everything else,” I say, softer now. “My body. My time. My space. Can’t I keep one thing sacred?”
“No,” he says, stepping closer again, his eyes burning into mine. “Not from me. Not anymore.”
I shake my head. “You don’t understand. This isn’t about keeping secrets. It’s about keeping myself.”
“Then help me understand,” he growls, crowding me against the wall. His body presses against mine, familiar heat building between us. “Make me see why you need to hide from me.”
“I’m not hiding?—”
His mouth crashes down on mine, swallowing my sentence. This kiss is desperate and searching, like he’s trying to find something inside me I’m keeping from him. When we break apart, we’re both breathing hard.
“Ace isn’t home,” he murmurs against my lips.
The realization hits me suddenly—in all our weeks together, I’ve never been alone with just one twin. They’ve always taken me together, a united front of desire.
“Cyrus—”
His hand slides beneath my shirt, calloused fingers tracing my ribs. “If you won’t let me see that part of you, then give me this instead.”
I should push him away. Keep some boundaries intact. Instead, I find myself clinging to him, anger and desire tangling together as he lifts me onto the counter.
“Just you?” I whisper.
