FORBIDDEN BLOOD

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**Chapter One**

The mansion was too quiet.

Elena Voss stood in the grand foyer, her suitcase resting beside her feet on the polished marble floor. The familiar scent of aged wood, leather, and faint jasmine from her mother’s old perfume still lingered in the air. Four years at college had done nothing to dull the memories this house held.

She was 22 now — no longer the shy, awkward girl who had fled to university to escape the tension that always crackled between her and her older brother. But the moment she stepped through the front door, that same electric charge returned, thick and undeniable.

Then she heard his footsteps.

Damien Voss descended the sweeping staircase with the same predatory grace he’d always possessed. At 28, he was even more devastating than she remembered. Tall, broad-shouldered, with sharp cheekbones and intense gray eyes that seemed to see straight through her. His black dress shirt had the sleeves rolled up, revealing powerful forearms, and the top few buttons were undone, showing a hint of toned chest.

He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, gray eyes slowly dragging over her body — from her long dark hair down to the way her sundress hugged her curves.

“Little sister,” he said, voice low and smooth like velvet over steel. “You’re finally home.”

The way he said “little sister” sent a shiver down her spine. It had always sounded too intimate, too possessive.

“Damien,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. “Mom and Dad are still away?”

He nodded, stepping closer until only a few feet separated them.

“They’ll be gone for the entire month. Some extended trip in Europe.” A slow, dangerous smile curved his lips. “So it’s just you and me in this big house… like old times.”

Elena’s heart raced. Old times. The stolen glances. The lingering touches that lasted a second too long. The nights she’d lie awake wondering if he felt the same forbidden pull she did.

“You’ve changed,” he murmured, eyes darkening as they traced the neckline of her dress. “You’re not my shy little sister anymore.”

“And you’re still the same,” she shot back, though her voice came out softer than she intended.

Damien took another step forward, close enough that she could smell his cologne — dark, woody, and dangerously masculine.

“Am I?” He reached out and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her cheek. The touch was light, but it burned. “Because the way you’re looking at me right now says you’re hoping I’ve changed… or maybe hoping I haven’t.”

Elena’s breath hitched. She should step back. She should laugh it off. Instead, she stayed frozen, trapped by the heat in his gray eyes.

“Damien…” she whispered, a warning and a plea all at once.

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a rough whisper against her ear.

“Tell me, Elena… did you miss me while you were gone? Or did you run away because you were afraid of what would happen if you stayed?”

Her pulse thundered in her ears.

She had run. She had run because every time he looked at her, every accidental brush of his hand, every late-night conversation when their parents were asleep, she felt something she wasn’t supposed to feel for her own brother.

Damien pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, his hand still cupping her cheek.

“Because I missed you,” he said, voice low and honest. “Every single day. And now that you’re back… I don’t think I can pretend anymore.”

The air between them crackled with years of suppressed desire.

Elena’s lips parted, but no words came out.

Damien’s thumb brushed slowly across her lower lip, his gray eyes darkening with hunger.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, “and I will.”

But she didn’t tell him to stop.

And Damien didn’t wait any longer.

He closed the distance and kissed her.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle.

It was four years of forbidden longing unleashed in one searing kiss. His mouth claimed hers with raw hunger, one hand sliding into her hair while the other gripped her waist, pulling her flush against his hard body.

Elena moaned into the kiss, her hands fisting his shirt as years of guilt and desire collided inside her.

When he finally pulled back, both of them were breathing hard.

Damien rested his forehead against hers, voice rough with need.

“Welcome home, little sister.”

This time, the words sounded like a dark promise.

And Elena knew — there was no turning back.

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