Even though Aqua poured such affection on Cassius right now—holding him close, stroking his hair, whispering soothing words like she always had when he was small—she was actually slightly mistaken.
Cassius's face was pale, his eyes wide with shock, but it wasn't because of the taboo weight of what he had just done to his own sister.
It wasn't guilt over crossing that sacred line, or horror at having groped and pleasured a blood relative.
No.
His fear was far more selfish, far more calculated.
He was terrified that Aqua would hate him for it and avoid him.
He had pounced on her in the dark, mistaken her for Isabelle, groped her shamelessly, fingered her to a shattering climax—all while planning in the back of his mind, to eventually make her his woman.
To claim his beautiful, beloved older sister completely.
If she rejected him now—if she looked at him with disgust, pushed him away, told him how wrong and vile it was—everything would crumble.
