Living With My Demon Stepsister

Remember how I was studying biology yesterday?

Yeah. That was for today's test.

And wow, it was like they didn't want us to pass. Like they actively sat down in the staff room and plotted our failure over coffee and chalk dust.

Even the smartest kids in class — the ones who snort-laughed at equations and corrected the teacher for fun — were just staring at their papers like they were ancient scrolls written in blood.

I wasn't doing much better.

I tapped my pen against the desk, read the second question for the fifth time, and seriously considered writing I'm sorry as my answer.

Mr. Fletcher — our evil, passive-aggressive biology teacher — was grinning like he knew exactly how much pain he was causing. The bastard.

I muttered under my breath, "What even is this…?"

Then I heard it.

(No. 2 answer's B.)

My head snapped up. I looked around. No one was talking.

I blinked.

Wait… was that…?

(Yeah, it's me, your ever-loving girlfriend.)

My eyes widened.

I turned toward the window like I might actually see her there. I didn't. Just trees, sunlight, and my own panic.

"You can hear my thoughts?" I whispered under my breath, lips barely moving.

(Of course I can.)

"How—"

(Don't bother. You don't want the answer. Demon Queen perks.)

I felt a giggle ripple through my brain. Like… a literal giggle. In my head.

I rubbed my temple and sank lower into my chair.

She was in a completely different class — thank God. If we shared a class, I'd be failing every subject from sheer distraction. That, and probably making out with her behind the lab skeleton during group work.

I coughed. Focus, Eli.

(You're welcome, by the way,) she added with a smug little hum. (But hey, if you'd rather I stop, I guess I'll just let you fail. That's okay too.)

I groaned internally.

"Fine," I muttered through clenched teeth.

(Say it louder, lover boy. Say you need me.)

I didn't respond. But she laughed anyway, loudly. In my soul.

For the rest of the test, I let her feed me answers — not all of them, just enough to not tank it completely. She made me mess up a few on purpose.

(Gotta make it look real,) she whispered. (Otherwise it's no fun.)

I swear, I could feel her smirking.

---

After school, I found her by her locker.

She leaned back against the metal door like a model on a movie poster, hair falling over one eye, still in uniform but with her tie undone and top button popped open like she was allergic to the dress code.

She looked up the second I walked over.

"Thanks," I said, tugging my bag higher on my shoulder. "For the test. I owe you."

Her grin widened. "Oh? You owe me?"

I gave her a look. "Not like that."

> "Shame."

She turned back to her locker, but I couldn't stop staring.

Because something clicked. Something horrifying.

Wait… she could hear my thoughts.

She can hear my thoughts.

She's been able to hear my thoughts.

How long has she—

"You don't wanna know," she said out loud before I even finished the thought. She didn't even look at me. Just kept rearranging whatever strange, hell-spawned trinkets she kept in her bag.

My mouth went dry. "Lila…"

She closed the locker, finally turning to face me — with that bright, wicked smile that always made my stomach twist in ways I still didn't understand.

"I only do it when I miss you," she said innocently. "Or when I'm bored. Or when I'm wondering what you'd look like naked in the moonlight."

I stared at her, red-faced.

"Oh relax," she cooed. "I promise I've never spied on you when you were bathing."

There was a beat.

Then she added, "Probably."

"Probably?!"

She laughed and took my hand like this was a perfectly normal hallway conversation.

"You always think you're being subtle," she whispered. "But baby, I know exactly when you touch yourself. Your thoughts get all fuzzy and warm. And you start whispering my name like I'm right there."

I nearly tripped over my own foot.

She stopped, turned to me, and cupped my face with both hands — the way you'd hold something precious and breakable.

"But you never finish without me," she said softly. "That's how I know you're mine."

My lips parted, but nothing came out.

Because how do you respond to that? To a girl who breaks every rule of space and privacy, and still makes you feel like the safest place in the world is inside her arms?

She leaned in. Kissed me, slow and sweet. Possessive.

And just before pulling away, she whispered against my lips, "So next time you're alone… think about me harder. I miss you more when you don't."

---

To be continued...