I haven’t even half-shifted, not all those times I’d been so tempted. And I’ve definitely never made the mistake of calling her Gwinnie.
“I’m fine, Amber,” I say softly.
Amber. That’s what she goes by now, just like I go by Violet, not Adelyn. Leave it to our mother to call us by our middle names our whole lives and never bother telling us our legal first names.
I only found out mine when I got my driver’s license and needed my birth certificate. Didn’t start using it until I went away to college and needed a fresh start, away from my mother. And I definitely never knew Gwinnie’s first name was Amber, not until the first time I entered Jewels Cafe.
There’s no way she knows who I am. I’ve been so careful around her, watching my every word. I even made a show of counting out small change from a coin purse the few times I’ve stopped by the cafe.
“You sure you don’t need to sit down?” Gwinnie—Amber—presses.
Even if she suspects, it’s time that I prove her wrong.
“A rest does sound nice, dear,” I tell her—five points—and make a show of slowly, painfully settling in on my walker—another ten. “Now let me check those books in for you.”
Amber sets them down on the counter and I scan them in one by one. Marketing book: probably for the cafe. Gardening book: Amber or one of her guys must have picked up a new hobby. Love Blooms by C. C. Pine: looks like a romance novel.
The girl on the cover—who’s wearing floral undies, of all things—suddenly flickers. Then, for a split second, she looks like me: young me, not old lady me.
“It’s a reverse harem romance,” Amber says.
I jump and nearly toss the book across the counter.
Not because it’s RH—I’ve read plenty of those. One girl with multiple men doesn’t shock me. What I just saw—or think I saw—does.
Did Amber see the shifting cover model too? Does she know?
Panic flares, and my heart pounds wildly in my chest. My eyes snap up to Amber’s, but she’s just being her usual self. As her sister, I would know!
Or would I?
I haven’t seen Amber in years. Haven’t spoken more than a dozen words to her until today. Which is probably the reason I’m freaking out. This is the first time I’ve talked to her one-on-one like this, without the line at Jewels Cafe stretching behind me, or one of her mates around.
Get it together, Violet! It was just your old eyes playing tricks on you!
I take a steadying break and peek down at the book again. I make sure to tilt the cover away from Amber, just in case, but it doesn’t flicker. It doesn’t do anything, really. Because it’s just a normal paperback, Violet! Well, normal-ish, if you ignore the cover model’s choice of wardrobe, the funny-looking shirtless dudes, and the lack of barcode.
“Is it a library book?” I flip the book over in case it somehow ended up on the back.
“Oh yeah. I mean, no. It’s a donation.”
“Is it? I haven’t heard of C. C. Pine.” Not that I’m surprised. There are so many reverse harem authors out there. Working full-time at the library—and buying all the books for the Spell collection—means I’m familiar with most of them, but definitely not all.
“Pine is a new author.”
“Oh, that explains it.” I flip the book open to a random scene and read a paragraph. “A swan who owns a shoe store... why does that seem familiar?”
“I’m not sure.” Amber grabs a book from my pile of returns—a heavy engineering text—and starts flipping through it.
I open Love Blooms to another random section, and the next paragraph has me chuckling. “Why are they running through the forest with tubs of ice cream? And look, one of her guys is a bunny shifter!”
“He is?” Amber’s eyes widen, and she suddenly shifts. Into a troll.
I’d always wondered what it was that Betty saw in trolls. She’d brought in a few old photos of her late husband, Martin—each funnier than the next. One of her troll in high-rise pants and a floral shirt, sporting a bushy mustache. Another of him with a mullet that—if I’m being honest—wouldn’t look good on anyone.
I’ve also seen a few trolls throughout town, but I’d never spared them a second glance. Not since meeting Nole.
Amber’s troll is different. Even though I know he’s actually my sister, I can’t help but stare. And not just because he’s wearing her floral-print dress.
She always did have trouble shifting her clothes, even before she left the academy—but that’s not why I’m staring. There’s just something about the way the light blue material stretches across the troll’s large, hard muscles. His chest that almost looks like it’s made of marble—tanned, fleshy marble, but definitely as hard as a rock.
He’s got big plump lips I quickly turn away from. No way do I want to think about kissing my sister. And why the Chameleon am I thinking about kissing this troll?
“Who is he? I don’t think I’ve seen him around,” I say, hoping I don’t seem too interested. It’s bad enough I’m lusting after my bear-shifter assistant—who just happens to be Amber’s mate’s younger brother. I should not be crushing on a troll in a dress whom my sister just shifted into. How messed up is that?
Except the troll is so hot. And huge! I don’t mean huge like Nole. The bear shifter is definitely taller, though not by much. The troll is broader. Wider. Definitely more muscular. Is he a bodybuilder? Maybe a wrestler?
“He’s no one. Just a customer,” Amber says in a voice that’s deeper than Nole’s, more gruff. It almost sounds like a growl, except it’s a sexy growl, not a frightening one.
And what the Chameleon is wrong with me, thinking this way when it’s actually my older sister?
As if on cue, she shifts back to her regular, blonde self, looking all shifty. I don’t mean chameleon shifter shifty, just shifty like she’s hiding something. Plus, Amber shifts when she’s emotional, or upset, but why would she be either of those things?
Could she know who I am? Is that why she’s acting strange? No! This can’t have anything to do with me. I hope.
“How’s your bunny shifter, dear?” Five points. There you go, Violet, just act normal. “I haven’t seen him at the library in a few weeks.”
“He’s fine.” Amber’s form flickers. Amber. Troll. Amber. “Just taking a break. A vacation. He’ll be back to work any day now.”
Amber shifts into a troll again.
“I didn’t mean to pry,” I say quickly. Especially since she’s really making it sound like the poor bunny got fired. He’d always be working so hard, too, sitting by the window with his nose glued to his laptop. “I do hope he’ll be back soon.”
Back to work and back to the library. He’s been my only source of information about my sister—even if it was just the occasional tidbit.
“He will be!” Amber, still a troll, growls, and quickly shifts back. “Anyway, I should run. I have to get back to the cafe.”
And with that, she races toward the door and out of my life, just like she did all those years ago. Last time, she left me with nothing. This time, I’m holding her paperback.