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I tried to imagine a woman who looked like me picking out the floral accents that made up so much of the spaces.
Would my mother be happy to have me here among her things?
Would the color of her hair be brown like mine?
I could chalk up the hint of copper running through my strands to my father, no doubt.
I stood nervously, thinking about my parents, twisting the end of my ponytail with dread.
I could do this.
I could have dinner with my parents.
Get my powers back.
Save the worlds from monsters that threatened to tear them apart.
Avenge my brother.
Hunter.
I squeezed my eyes shut. I wouldn’t cry. I needed to keep moving.
I kicked off my boots and stripped out of my clothes, walking them to a corner of the bathroom and tossing them onto the floor. Opting for the sink instead of the tub to save time, I poured water from a pitcher all over my face and parts of my body. Lathering flower-infused soap underneath my arms and lower.
The mirror above the sink watched as I undid my hair, pulling half of it up while keeping the other half down. The reflection looking a lot like me, but different.
My eyes were brighter than normal, the green shimmering with my sun-kissed skin. And my freckles were heavier, more condensed across my nose and cheeks. I also looked older, as if learning I’d lived two lives had aged me a bit.
Surprisingly, the subtle changes made me feel beautiful.
Something I rarely felt.
And I wasn’t sure if it was the magic in the air, or the ghost of Leo’s hands all over me, but my skin had a soft glow about it, too.
I blushed thinking about the way I’d called out his name in the heat of the moment as he had stood behind me. His fingers both punishing and rewarding.
The bedroom door clicked shut.
Adrian.
I grabbed a towel from the rack next to the sink, floral print of course, and wrapped it around me as I left the bathroom.
Adrian stood in front of me. His hands full of dark green clothing.
“Are those for me?” I asked, pointing at his hands.
He didn’t say anything at first. His eyes focused on my hair.
Suddenly, I was all too aware that I wore only a towel.
Adrian tightened his jaw. “Yes.” He passed half of the clothes to me. “Uniform and a dress. One for this evening and the other for—” He didn’t finish his sentence as my hands brushed against his, taking the clothes from him.
“Delirium,” I finished, trying to regulate my voice so it didn’t sound so breathy.
What the hell was happening here?
“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll wash up now.”