Lucian hesitated near the door, unsure if he should leave the room or stay. Theodore's sharp gaze caught him, but before Lucian could move, Theodore's strong arms wrapped around Isabella's delicate waist from behind, pulling her snugly against his chest. His fingers brushed hers, then pinched her arm slightly.
A soft, almost inaudible moan slipped from Isabella's lips—an instinctive reaction she immediately tried to hide, her cheeks flushing crimson.
Theodore's golden eyes glinted with amusement. "Ah, my little firestorm," he murmured, his voice a mix of dark humor and possessive warmth. "If you don't want me to… take over the rest of your morning routine, you'd better go and wash yourself now." His tone darkened. "And never dare touch me—or throw water at me—again. I will not let such mischief influence my little brother."
Blushing and trembling, Isabella nodded hastily and hurried to the washroom, avoiding his intense gaze. Theodore let her go but his eyes followed her every move, a dangerous gleam in them, a predator observing his own prey.
Moments later, they all sat down for breakfast. Lucian, perched on his chair with a mischievous spark in his eyes, leaned toward Isabella. "Feed me," he said with a grin, holding up a spoon.
The room hummed with unspoken energy. Theodore's golden eyes were fixed on Lucian, a silent war of wills threading between them. The younger brother, only seven, tilted his head with a sly smirk, a spark of mischief dancing in his violet-tinged eyes. In that instant, distance dissolved—their minds brushed against each other, a delicate thread of telepathic connection, vibrating with clarity only brothers of the same blood could share.
See, big brother, Lucian's thought slithered into Theodore's mind, playful and provocative. She smiles at me, not you. She bends, leans, and feeds me—your bride, yet not yours in this small, perfect rebellion.
Theodore's pulse quickened, a mixture of jealousy, pride, and the unyielding obsession that had always marked him as alpha. Do not presume, his response struck back in a low, electrifying murmur of thought, she is mine. Every fleeting gesture belongs to me. Every heartbeat, every breath, obeys me, whether you see it or not.
Lucian's smirk widened as he leaned closer to Isabella, whispering softly, "Feed me, Luna. Only I get this favor this morning."
Isabella's delicate fingers hovered, caught between the mischievous command of the boy and the searing glare of the man who owned her heart—or perhaps, her firestorm. She obeyed Lucian, the spoon trembling in her hand, but each motion sent a current through the room, stirring the air like an approaching storm.
Theodore's eyes narrowed, sharp and predatory. His telepathic thread to Lucian tightened, a whisper of warning and unspoken dominance: Enjoy your little victory while it lasts. One wrong move, one misstep, and the firestorm belongs wholly to me.
Lucian felt the weight of his brother's mind pressing against his own, but a spark of audacity glimmered. Even so, he's distracted… see her smile? The tilt of her head? The warmth she gives me, just this morning.
A low, amused chuckle escaped Theodore's lips, audible and dangerous. "You think you can play in my domain, little shadow?" he said aloud, voice dripping with alpha menace. His hand reached to lightly, almost possessively, graze Isabella's hair. "Even your small tricks are noted, recorded… and will be punished, in my time."
Isabella giggled softly, leaning over to feed the small boy, unaware of Theodore's watchful glare. Theodore's jaw tightened as he observed the scene, jealousy bubbling just beneath his calm exterior.
Lucian, sensing the tension, smirked up at his older brother knowingly. Though only seven, he had learned to read Theodore's moods. In that instant, he silently thought, See, I stole your bride. She won't do this for you.
Theodore's eyes narrowed, his possessive instincts flaring. Yet beneath it all, a twisted sense of pride pulsed in his veins—his little firestorm, so tender in her actions, yet completely his, bound to him in ways Lucian could never rival.
He leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping against the table, a subtle warning glinting in his gaze. "Enjoy this as much as you can , little one," he murmured to Lucian, voice low and menacing, "but remember… she belongs to me."
Isabella froze slightly, feeling the weight of Theodore's presence, even in the warmth of their dining. Her heart raced—torn between fear, fascination, and the strange comfort of being under his watchful eyes.
The morning had begun innocently, yet it already bore the electric charge of possessiveness, jealousy, and a darkness that promised no one could escape Theodore's control.