Hypergeniture Bk. 01 Pt. 02

"She looks nervous, sir. Maybe she's a bit sick."

I shook my head. "Or, maybe she's hiding something... Where is she?"

Skylar led me outdoors, where Natasha sat on the same bench I'd shared with Aaron. As the sun set, it got a little colder, and her European wardrobe made a little more sense. She was comfortably dressed in slacks and a flannel shirt — a tomboyish look by her standards and perfect for the farm.

I took a seat next to my cousin. "Hey, what's up? It sounds like something is

Natasha shrugged, seeming angry but speaking softly. "I'm fucking frustrated."

"How can I help?"

"Ugh!"

My cousin slammed her fists down on her thighs and sprang to her feet. She spun around to face me and pointed a finger before taking a breath. Exhaling, she seemed to calm down a little. Her mood was swinging wildly, and she looked nervous...

I didn't know what was going on — couldn't piece it all together. Still, I felt like I could almost read her mind, sensing the whirlwind inside.

"Your people won't let me go to town," my cousin bemoaned.

"It's not safe," I reminded. "If you need anything, Alicia can arrange it."

"Who said I'm in any danger? You're the one who got stabbed — don't make it my problem!"

Shocked by Natasha's crudeness, I was speechless. Immediately, her eyes changed, and regret was scrawled over her face. Still, she'd taken the shot, and it hit... I got stabbed. Why should she care?

"I didn't mean it like that, Olly," she tried to backtrack.

I was angry and upset, but my first impulse was always to help her, because she was my friend and family.

"You're clearly on edge," I accepted. "Is it about us?"

Natasha tapped her foot, then stamped it, kicking up dust as she did. She came to sit next to me again and held her head in her hands. "I wish I could give you what you want, but I'm a liar and a sack of shit."

Putting an arm around her, I pulled a despondent Tash closer to me. "What are you on about?"

"Nevermind," my cousin declared, getting to her feet again. A new sense of confidence seemed to hit her; the latest shift in her mood was a positive one. She was hyperactive, chaotic and out of control.

That's when I saw it... That's when I finally had a theory that made sense. "Are you on drugs?"

"Fuck off! Of course not!" she insisted.

I didn't believe her, springing to my feet. "Well then, are you pregnant?"

There wasn't time to catch Natasha's palm as it struck my face. She slapped me — hard. Very fucking hard. As soon as she did it, her body was overcome with regret... Again. So the cycle continued.

"Olly, I... I'm so fucking sorry... I swear I'm not on anything, and I'm not pregnant. I... I... Oh my god, I'm so sorry I hit you."

My cousin was sincere in her denial, and the tone of her voice convinced me. Yet, it was that convincing speech that got me thinking of even worse possibilities. If drugs didn't explain it — if I was wrong — that left few good reasons for her erratic behaviour.

"Natasha... Maybe you can write down how you feel and what you want. I could do the same. We're struggling with words and talking, so maybe that's a better way—"

"It won't work," she said bluntly. "Enjoy your date with Elle. Enjoy your girl in London. Enjoy being stinking rich. Let me worry about myself."

Natasha turned and walked away with her hands in her pockets. I teared up as I tried to process what had just happened. Something was ripping my best friend apart, and I didn't know what. Why did she want to go to the city? Why were her moods so volatile? What could I do to make her better?

Could I trust her?

19 • The Cape of Storms

You'd think travelling less than a mile from one part of a property to the other is simple. You might think that walking would be the best approach. Yet, we took a convoy of five black SUVs down the tree-lined driveway of the farm.

Each car was packed with gun-wielding men and women. My very own private army was guarding against an unknown enemy.

Elle's erudite nature showed on route as she asked Skylar what each car's role was in the convoy.

"There's a pilot car setting the pace, our vehicle, then the protection team right behind us. Behind them, we have a car that maintains security at the rear. The fifth car is the counter-assault team. They've got the big guns in case we come under attack. Most of the team are local ex-military and police types. Alicia and I are the only two on Mr Orwell's permanent team."

Elle nodded with pursed lips. I could see a pattern forming between her visit to the shooting range and her interest in the motorcade. She admired the women who did this work — it was new to her, and it blew her mind. She'd make a good soldier, my dear little sister; disciplined for the most part and not afraid to fight for what she believed.

Pulling up to a building that flowed with the topography, we disembarked. The farm's restaurant was strikingly modern in comparison to the main house. I took it as a sign that Alicia invested at least something into her inheritance. Nothing was left to rot except where she grew up — the home she'd shared with her father.

"Nice place," I remarked.

"I've never been outside of Canada," my sister reminded. "This is like a dream come true. I just wish you didn't get hurt in the process."

Elle and I would be entirely alone for dinner. Our protectors fanned out around us, staying out of our sibling bubble.

As we stepped into the restaurant, we immediately spotted the unmissable: A banquet for two, a small feast, and a selection of anything you could imagine. The food was quite simple. There was meat, veg, salad... The wines were more impressive, most of them local.

The lights were low and the white shine of the moon overpowered the dim golden bulbs; almost blunting them. Although the room was big, that made it seem smaller — more intimate.

Despite being on heavy medication, I dared to reach for the wine. It seemed fitting that I should celebrate being alive, being with my sister and being wealthy. The bottle of merlot I reached for first had an interesting label: The silhouettes of a man, woman and child. It seemed homey and quaint, though the restaurant around us was pretty stark yet glorious.

The danger that came with fortune had overpowered any joy at being rich. That night, I wanted to focus on the positive!

My sister smiled as I passed her a glass of local nectar. She was wearing an old dress from back home — a one-time indulgence bought with some saved up cash. It was dark blue with a beautiful fitted cut. Long sleeves clung to her arms, and the bottom stopped midway down her thighs. Finishing the outfit, she wore heels — counterfeit designer — that had been hers forever.

She was quite a sight, growing up faster and faster and becoming a remarkable woman. Spending time with her had always been a pleasure, but now we got to converse like adults. I'd always encouraged her to argue politics, religion, whatever she wanted... Having opinions is essential, and you should express them. However, when it came to mature discussions about life, we tended to avoid those.

I had a feeling we'd not have that luxury for much longer.

Just as we were about to get comfortable, I felt my phone buzz. "Sorry," I excused, taking the call from Pellinore's CEO, Cassandra Nash.

"Mr Orwell," she greeted.

"Mrs Nash, how can I help you? I'm currently at an engagement."

"I'm only checking up on you. We haven't seen you at the office recently, and your lawyers are mum on your whereabouts."

I prepared myself to lie, holding my eyes shut as I took a second to remember the cover story. "Apologies about that. We had complications with a part of the estate, and I had to leave London to clarify things in person."

"You're in Cape Town?"

My face went pale. "How the hell did you know that?!"

Nash started laughing with a touch of smugness audible. "Don't worry. I'm not spying on you. My friends in British intelligence are, though, yet they won't tell me what you're doing down there."

"You should ask your friends why they feel the need to obsess over me," I demanded. "Maybe then I can get some damn peace of mind!"

The CEO waited a few seconds for me to cool it, but she didn't know I had a sore wound to keep my temper up. "Apologies, Mr Chairman. I understand this must all be very disorienting. I assure you the secret services keep an eye on everyone. Especially those of us who play a critical role in the functioning of the economy."

"Bullshit!" I retorted, mad at the obvious deception and deflection.

"Alright, Mr Orwell... You're smart enough to know things are a little more complicated. Let's not talk about it now, shall we?"

I looked in my sister's direction and saw her lips twisted in a knot as she observed my anger. It was possibly the first time in her life that she'd seen her big brother get truly upset. I didn't want to expose her to that, so I ended the call as decently as possible.

"Who was that?" Elle asked.

"Someone who thinks they're smarter than me. If I can teach you one lesson, sis, it's that manipulators and plotters are dumb. Maybe I'm losing my mind, but I feel like I'm surrounded by people taking me for a fool. But... But... Nevermind, I don't want you to worry."

Elle stepped up to me, and we embraced. "It'll all be okay," she promised as we kept our pose minute after minute; the hug only growing tighter. We took a few deep breaths and turned to our meal as it broke.

Elle and I clinked our glasses, but she didn't seem to put her heart into the toast. By then, I'd known her long enough to recognise when she was unhappy, and this was one of those occasions. She didn't sit at the table they'd prepared for us. No, she walked to a corner of the room. She stared at her feet and swirled her drink before downing the liquor in a single gulp.

My eyes focused on the beautiful woman in front of me. No longer my little sister, although I'd always call her that. She was all grown up and old enough to feel adult melancholy.

"I always wondered why what a brother and sister have couldn't be enough for you," Elle professed.

The words startled me. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing... Forget about it."

In an instant, Elle seemed to withdraw from the world. Moonlight from a nearby window dazzled me as it clung to her body and gave definition to a mournful soul. She wouldn't cry — no, she'd never do that. But there was a trembling in her voice and a shiver that would no doubt be followed by courage. She seemed to be speaking to herself with her lips pointed down as she bowed her head.

"Why? Why isn't what a brother and sister have enough?"

I flinched, reaching to rub my shoulder — pressing the muscle like the pressure would help me understand. My chest was beginning to tighten and my palms were sweating. Elle was playing out a conversation that she must have had a thousand times in her head... I didn't have the benefit.

Still, in her own world, but now walking toward me, my sister let her hand fiddle with my collar. Her dark brown eyes drifted towards a grey-green cocktail of emotions as she seemed to settle them on the corner of my mouth. Those eyes didn't say she saw me; they told me she wanted to be seen.

God knows, I did see her, and she'd never looked so beautiful as in that moment of silent bravery. Yes, I knew what she meant... Why can't what a brother and sister have be enough?

Somewhere in the unfamiliar restaurant, a clock chimed just as my sister's teeth clawed at her lip. We breathed as one before I felt her nose against mine. Her high heels gave her body the little extra height she needed to meet me. I could hear her tongue speak a barren language, feel her lungs shiver, and sense her muscles tense. All I saw were the traces of starlight on her lips as I felt her creep toward action. Action building as light from the heavens soaked deeper into her gentle skin.

As her older brother — as who I was to her — I had the final say over what happened next. There was so much to think about, yet I didn't waste a second on doubt as my lips met the moment. Throwing ourselves into an illicit kiss, we found the familiar comfort we'd always shared. Now, that comfort meant more as sweet meaning passed between us in a hundredth of a second, and we said more than a million words could ever convey.

With the heat came intensity that threatened to explode...

"No!" I insisted, pulling away.

"Yes," my sister replied, strength evident in her young voice.

"Are you sure?" I asked, knowing that I wanted her to be sure and already sure myself.

Elle didn't say a word. Her forehead pressed against mine as we took a pause. Magic followed.

Our kiss reignited, and this time the fire raged harder. I felt my little sister's tongue in my mouth. Neither of us shaking anymore; neither of us nervous or uncertain. Yet, the unsteadiness of our youth returned as my sister spoke to me — her lips close enough to taste. So close that I could feel the vibration of her diction.

"What we have is enough."

In a whisper, she repeated her words like she was casting a spell or making a prayer, "What we have is enough."

In my heart, I had one last ounce of resistance. I pulled away and plead, "Elle... I love you, but—"

"Olly," she said my name in a voice that broke my sentence. "What a brother and sister have can be enough. Maybe you don't think of me in that way, but Tecla... She feels the same as me, and she can take care of anything I'm not good at."

I exhaled, my lips still an inch away from hers. "What do you mean?"

Elle seemed to smile, closing the fraction of distance between us to leave a tender peck on the corner of my lips. This one was more like a kiss between siblings — a brother-sister kiss that had only a sprinkle of romance.

"What a brother and sister have can be enough," she repeated. "That's all I'm saying... Together, your sisters can be enough... We can be enough. We. Can. Be. Enough."

My breathing stopped until I felt Elle's hands trail along my side. Our bodies were as close as possible — our stomachs flat against each other. We bumped and explored, like hunting for something more than just a kiss. More than the sins we'd already committed. Sins against society and convention.

I could choose what happened next and it would be a choice that changes everything.

I didn't want to make decisions. I didn't want to think.

Our lips met again, and this time there was the weight of consequence behind it. My hands were gliding down Elle's back. Arousal had caught up with us and threatened to overwhelm my mind. There was no doubt she could feel my erection; my hardness against her pelvis. Feel its size, feel its shape and feel its firmness.

Elle's tongue slid against mine. It was a sucker punch that struck all scent, sensation, and sight from my world. There was nothing except the kiss: My sister's mouth and mine in an incestuous tangle.

I took a breath — took a breath not to end things but to take them further.

"There are so many people nearby," I warned.

"Then take me to our bedroom. Take me there, so I can show you that what a brother and sister have—"

"Can be enough," I completed, and Elle kissed me again. She kissed me hard. Kissed me with joy in how her lips bounded against mine and her tongue played with me.

It was all too much, all too fast!

"We can't do this, sis. No... It's not right! I'd be taking advantage, promising you things that I could never deliver. Elle, it's not working with Tash... A brother and sister? That's ten times more complicated."

Elle scowled at me with anger and dejection scrawled across her face. She took a step back, turning her body the slightest bit away from me. "So, that's it then? You can fuck our cousin, but I'm not good enough? Tecla isn't good enough either?!"

"Tecla isn't even here!"

"Whatever, Oliver. You feel the same, and one day you'll admit it... I thought, when you got the money, it would mean your inhibitions would fade, and we could be together. Fuck, I thought that almost getting killed would make you realise we need to live in the moment!"

"I never even imagined this is something you wanted."

Elle shrugged. "No need to imagine. Here I am! Flesh and blood, and willing to take the risk to be with you when other people aren't!"

I looked at my sister with a proud and brotherly smile. There could be no doubt she knew what she wanted, but I felt a responsibility to keep her from having it. She took my look as an invitation to argue her point.

"Before we were going to have to split up... We'd need jobs and lives of our own, but with the inheritance, we can be together. There's no reason for us to part."

"I want you to have a life of your own."

"And I want that life to be with you — with the only person who has ever taken care of me."

"Oh, darling... I... I don't know what to say."

Despite the tension in the air, we both found ourselves taking seats at the table set for us. Despite the strangeness of it all, this was still a disagreement between a brother and his sister. And, when siblings fight, they don't run away from each other; they don't give up on each other. Never.

The food was hearty and local, as was the wine.

"Did you know this place belongs to Alicia?" I asked as an icebreaker, following a few minutes of silence.

My sister nodded; she knew. "When you were still very sick, Tecla would phone Alicia at night. You know, 'cause she struggles to sleep at the best of times... They talked about your condition but spent most of the time just chatting."

"Wow. I didn't know that... So, you two like her?"

Elle shrugged. "Yeah. I guess. She feels like an older sister... Kinda. But I have a problem with you spending so much time with model-types. Especially model-types with guns."

"Because you want me all to yourself?" I asked bluntly.

My sister didn't answer my question, instead choosing to go back to her food and wine. We ate in silence for the next fifteen minutes. Here and there, we cast a smile to each other — hoping to hook a little mutual joy. It was easy for us to be happy together and happy with the lingering taste of our deviant kiss.

Elle started talking about her plans for the next few days and I told her we'd be heading to Singapore soon. She said she preferred to fly in the evening and I replied, "Sure, we can arrange a night flight if you prefer."

"What?" Elle quizzed.

"Huh?" I shook some sense into myself and saw the look on Elle's face... She must not have said what I heard her say. "Ah, it's just me being too tired, sis. I'm hearing things."

"You okay?"

"Perfectly fine," I assured, putting a hand on her's to make sure she bought my line.

"Good," Elle grinned, happy that I was healthy enough for her intentions.

Dinner ended without dessert, and we stepped back into the bubble of guards that surrounded us. I focused on my sister, reaching for her hand out of instinct. Squeezing it, feeling its warmth... Holding her near me in the night-time cold of a Cape summer — somewhere between Good Hope and Storms.

At the end of the short drive back to the main house, Elle kissed me on the cheek and whispered into my ear. A soft and sensual whisper and seductive in a way I never knew she could muster.

"You know where to find me, big brother..."

20 • Touch-Touch

The next day, Elle didn't wake up next to me like the days before.

My sister was waiting for me to make a move and daring me to take what we both knew I wanted. At breakfast, she was shy and girlish. She was the woman I'd always known her to be.

The edge from days past had faded, and my little sister became her gentle self, mild-mannered and wishing for romance. She had a crush which was quickly turning into an infatuation. She had opened the floodgates — I helped her do it — and now she wanted to feel the rush of the water.