Mirrored Deception

Chapter 2: Mirrored Deception

Synn practically stumbled backward, his breath hitching as he broke the magnetic pull of his mother’s gaze. "I... I have to go," he managed to **** out, his voice sounding deeper and more resonant than he remembered.

Elaine didn't look offended. She just smiled—a slow, knowing curve of her lips that made his skin prickle. "Don't be late then, honey. I’ll have a big breakfast waiting for you when you’re done." Her eyes dropped to the tightening fabric of his sweats one last time before she turned back to the stove, humming a low, sultry tune.

Synn fled. He bolted up the stairs, his feet feeling heavier, more solid on the carpet. He slammed the bathroom door and locked it, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. He leaned over the sink, splashing cold water onto his face, **** to wash away the scent of jasmine and the sight of his mother’s chest.

But when he looked up, the mirror offered no sanctuary.

The reflection staring back was him, but perfected. His jawline was sharper, his obsidian skin glowing with a health that seemed supernatural. His shoulders had broadened so much they nearly touched the edges of the frame, and his chest was a thick slab of muscle that strained against the cotton of his shirt. He removed his shirt to examine himself. But it was his eyes that truly terrified him—they were the same dark brown, but there was a predatory golden glint in the center of the iris that wasn't there before.

Panic looks so becoming on you, vessel, the spirit purred, its voice a warm vibration in his inner ear. But don't lie to yourself. You felt how she looked at you. You felt how much she wanted you to take that mug from her hand and press her against the counter. Why fight what is already yours?

"Shut up," Synn hissed at his own reflection. "She’s my mother."

And she’s a woman, Synn. A woman who has just realized her son is the ultimate male. Reality is shifting to accommodate your nature. Why are you the only one trying to hold onto the old world?

A light, insistent knock at the door made him jump. Before he could say a word, the lock clicked—the spirit’s doing, he was sure—and Maya slipped inside. She was nineteen, her usual college hoodies replaced by a tiny, pleated skirt and a white button-down tied off to reveal her flat stomach and the soft curve of her hips. Her hair was pulled into high twin tails, swaying as she stepped toward him.

"Synn? I heard you running," she whispered, her eyes wide as they traveled over his bare, massive chest. She didn't look away; she looked fascinated. "Are you okay? You’re... you’re shaking."

She stepped into his space, the small bathroom suddenly feeling like a cage. She reached up, her small, soft hands pressing against his pectorals. "You’re so hot, Synn. Like you’re burning up."

Synn looked down at her, the psychological weight of her submissive posture hitting him like a physical blow. She was his sister, but she was looking at him with a raw, sexual hunger that she didn't even seem to recognize as wrong. The spirit chuckled, a low, dirty sound in his skull.

She’s practically begging for her 'Daddy' to show her what to do with all that new energy, Synn. One hand on her throat... one hand on that tight little ass...

"Maya, you shouldn't be in here," Synn groaned, his hands twitching at his sides. He was horrified, but the sheer, raw availability of her was a siren song, and as she leaned her forehead against his chin, he felt his resolve begin to crumble under the weight of the spirit's relentless, erotic pressure.