Living With My Demon Stepsister

I didn't think I'd ever say this sentence in my life, but…

"Oh my God, Dad."

He jumped like a teenager caught with a joint. Marissa, on the other hand, barely looked fazed. She had one hand on his chest and the other around his neck, lips still pink from the kiss I clearly wasn't supposed to see.

"Eli," Dad started, flustered. "This isn't— I mean, we were just—"

"Sure. Yep. Definitely. Totally normal parental bonding." I waved my hands like I could physically erase what I'd seen. "I'm gonna go… set my eyes on fire."

Behind me, Lila giggled.

Of course she did.

"He looks fine, doesn't he?" she whispered, way too pleased. "Told you Marissa wouldn't eat him. Unless he asked really nicely."

I groaned and practically bolted upstairs before I could lose the last functioning brain cell I had left.

Back in my room, I tried to pretend my life was normal. I opened a textbook. I highlighted something. I even mumbled a few biology terms like I had a test coming up.

Lila sprawled across my bed like she owned it — which, let's be honest, she basically did. Her legs were bare. Her hoodie was oversized and slipping off one shoulder. And she was watching me, not the pages.

"Don't you need to study too?" I asked without looking up.

"I already know everything," she replied, lazily twisting a strand of her hair around one finger. "I'm literally older than the country we're in, babe."

"Right," I muttered, flipping to the next page. "Because that's not creepy at all."

She didn't answer immediately. I could feel her eyes on me though. Not just watching — thinking. Planning.

Then she said it.

> "So, what do you think our kids would look like?"

The pen slipped from my hand and hit the page with a loud thud. I blinked. "I—What?"

"Our kids," she repeated, like it was the most casual topic in the world. "Do you think they'd have your eyes? Or maybe mine. I hope they get your eyelashes though. You have such pretty lashes, it'd be a crime to waste those on just one generation."

I turned to her slowly. "You're joking."

"Nope," she said with a pop of her lips. "Imagine. Little half-human, half-demon gremlins with my charm and your awkward little stutters."

I choked on air.

She grinned. "You okay, daddy?"

"Don't—ever—call me that again," I wheezed, trying to remember how lungs were supposed to work. "What even brought that up?!"

She shrugged, now lying on her stomach and kicking her feet up behind her. "I was just thinking. You're cute when you panic. And it's fun imagining you holding a baby with little horns."

I put my face in my hands. "This is not a normal conversation."

"Well," she said, crawling closer across the bed until her chin rested on my shoulder, "we're not exactly normal people."

Her voice dropped lower, softer. "But you're mine, Eli. And if we ever do have kids… they'll be terrifying and beautiful. Just like us."

Something in her tone changed then — not teasing. Not sarcastic. Just... quiet.

I turned to look at her. Really look. And for a second, beneath all the crazy, the seduction, the chaos — there was something painfully real in her eyes. Something vulnerable. Like she'd already imagined it, over and over, and wasn't sure how to deal with the fact that she maybe wanted it too much.

"I don't know what you are," I muttered. "You're insane, terrifying, you hypnotized my dad, edge me for fun, and almost killed a guy with your eyes."

She smiled soft and dangerous.

> "And?"

"…And you're still mine," I said, before I could stop myself. "In a messed up, irreversible way."

That made her eyes shine.

She leaned in, lips brushing against my ear. "I've been yours since the first time you said my name like it burned your tongue."

I didn't say anything after that and for once, neither did she.

We stayed there for a long time — me pretending to read, her pretending not to be planning the next level of my emotional breakdown. But somehow, it was... peaceful.

Almost like we were normal.

Almost.

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To be continued...