Page 8 of Violet

“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.

Will reading it help me get to know my big sister? Probably not, but I still turn to page one.

Chapter 4

Liam

“I don’t see her,” I tell Bert as I parallel park in front of Spell Library. I scan the unoccupied benches and vacant steps. Nothing.

“She’s probably inside.” My partner pulls open the glove compartment and starts taking out essentials. Black gloves. Baseball cap. Sunglasses.

“You could wait in the car,” I suggest. “This won’t take long.”

“I don’t mind. Not like I got anything better to do.” Bert pulls the cap low over his eyes and rests one gloved hand on his holstered weapon.

The act is born out of pure habit, not necessity. The most dangerous thing about Silver Springs in broad daylight is... well... I look around for inspiration and spot a flash of orange fur on the other side of the street. Cat shifter, and a young one by the looks of him.

The little devils really are the most dangerous things in town. They may look all cute and fluffy, but they love racing down the streets, tripping up unsuspecting pedestrians. Annoying and dangerous, yes, but definitely not illegal. I would know.