20. Audacity

Callista.

I remain near the bed as my adoptive sister circles me, like I’m prey caught in the web she has woven. Her face is deadly serene as if she doesn’t have a care for this world, yet her voice is hard as steel when she talks.

And again, she is wearing my clothes. These further cement my theory on how she’s deceiving my mate.

The audacity of this woman, I swear.

“What’s up with your closet recently, Ruelle?” I ask, instead of answering her question, “Did Mommy and Daddy forget to pack your own million-dollar walk-in closet or something?”

“Answer my question!”

“Pass.” I sneer.

She halts her pacing and stares at me. “Were you trying to tell him about feeling his scent again, Callista?” She asks, “What did you say he smells like, wet fur and dog vomit…”

“What the-no, he smells of pinecones and sea breeze and everything warm and nice!” I burst out. Immediately, I realize what I said, and curse myself for giving Ruelle that information. “Oh, you bitch.” I'm blushing like an idiot.

It