Андреа Кремер - Nightshade

“Another heartwarming mother-daughter bonding session?”

“You know it.” I rolled onto my back.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah.” I put my hands on my temples, attempting to massage the new throbbing pain away.

“So—” Ansel began. I turned to look at him. My brother’s teasing smile had vanished.

“So what?”

“About Ren . . .” His voice thickened.

“Spit it out, An.”

“Do you like him? I mean for real?” he blurted.

I collapsed back onto the bed. My arms covered my eyes, blotting out the light.

“Not you too.”

He crawled toward me.

“It’s just,” he said. “If you don’t want to be with him, you shouldn’t be.”

Beneath my arms my eyes snapped open. For a moment I couldn’t breathe.

“We could run away. I’d stay with you,” Ansel finished in a voice almost too low to hear.

I sat bolt upright.

“Ansel,” I whispered. “Don’t ever say anything like that. You don’t know what . . . Just drop it, okay?”

He fiddled with the coverlet. “I want you to be happy. You seemed so mad at Mom.”

“I am mad at Mom, but that’s Mom, not Ren.” I wound my fingers through the long waves that spilled over my shoulders and thought about shaving my head.

“So you’re okay with it? With being Ren’s mate?”

“Yeah. I’m okay with it.” I reached out, ruffling his sand brown hair. “Besides, you’ll be in the new pack. So will Bryn, Mason, and Fey. With you guys at my back, we’ll keep Ren in line.”

“No doubt.” He grinned.

“And don’t breathe a word about running away to anyone. An, that’s way out of line. When did you become such a free thinker anyway?” My eyes narrowed.

He bared sharpened canines at me. “I’m your brother, right?”

“So your traitorous nature is my fault?” I smacked him on the chest.

“Everything I need to know I learned from Cal.”

He stood up and began jumping on the bed. I bounced close to the edge and then rolled off, landing easily on the balls of my feet. I grabbed the edge of the coverlet and gave it a sharp jerk. Ansel fell laughing onto his back and bounced once on the mattress before he lay still.

“I’m serious, Ansel. Not a word.”

“Don’t worry, sis. I’m not stupid. I would never betray the Keepers,” he said. “Unless you asked me to . . . alpha.”

I tried to smile. “Thanks.”

THREE

WHEN I ENTERED THE KITCHEN FOR BREAKFAST, my family fell silent. I made a beeline for the coffee. My mother rushed over, grasped my hands, and turned me to face her.

“Oh, honey, you are a vision,” she said, kissing me on both cheeks.

“It’s a skirt, Mom.” I wrenched free. “Get over it.”

I grabbed a mug from the cupboard and poured coffee. At the last second I managed to push my long hair out of the way before blond tendrils dunked in the black liquid.

Ansel tossed me a Luna bar and tried to hide the smirk on his face.

Traitor, I mouthed as I sat down. Two bites into my breakfast, I realized my father was gaping at me.

“What?” I asked around a mouthful of soy protein.

He coughed, blinking several times. Then his eyes darted from my mom to me. “Sorry, Calla. I guess I didn’t expect you to take your mother’s suggestions to heart.”

She glared at him. My father shifted in his seat and unfolded the Denver Post.

“You’re quite fetching.”

“Fetching?” My voice jumped up a couple octaves. The coffee mug shook in my hand.

Ansel choked on his Pop-Tart and grabbed for a glass of orange juice.

My father lifted the newspaper to hide his face while my mother patted my hand. I allowed myself one glare at her before losing myself in the haze of caffeine.

We spent the rest of breakfast in awkward silence. Dad read and tried to avoid any eye contact with me or my mother. Mom kept throwing encouraging glances in my direction, which I deflected with cold stares. Ansel ignored us, happily munching on his Pop-Tart. I threw back the last dregs of coffee.

“Come on, An.”

Ansel bounced from his chair, grabbing a jacket on his way to the garage.

“Good luck, Cal,” my father called as I followed my little brother toward the door.

I didn’t respond. Most days I looked forward to school. Today I dreaded it.

“Stephen.” I heard Mom’s voice rise as I walked out the door and slammed it shut behind me.

“Can I drive?” Ansel’s eyes were hopeful.

“No,” I said, heading for the driver’s seat of our Jeep.

Ansel gripped the dashboard as I squealed out of the driveway. The scent of burnt rubber filled the cab. After I cut off the third car, he glared at me, struggling to buckle his seat belt.

“Just ’cause wearing panty hose gives you a death wish doesn’t mean I have one too.”

“I am not wearing panty hose,” I said through clenched teeth, swerving around yet another car.

Ansel’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re not? Isn’t that, like, unseemly or something?”

He grinned at me, but the dagger glare I threw at him made him cower against his seat. By the time we reached the Mountain School’s parking lot, his face was ghost white.

“I think I’ll get Mason to drive me home,” he said, slamming the door behind him.

When I noticed how white my knuckles had become as a result of my grip on the steering wheel, I took a deep breath.

They’re just clothes, Cal. It’s not like Mom made you go get a boob job.

I shuddered, hoping no such ideas ever entered Naomi’s mind.

Bryn intercepted me halfway across the parking lot. Her eyes widened as she looked me up and down.

“What happened?”

“Finesse,” I grumbled, and kept walking toward our school.

“Huh?” Her tight bronze ringlets bounced around her head as she trotted beside me.

“Apparently being an alpha female involves more than fighting off Searchers,” I said. “At least according to Lumine and my mother.”

“So Naomi’s trying to give you a makeover again?” she asked. “What’s different this time?”

“This time she’s serious.” I adjusted the waistband of my skirt, wishing I were in jeans. “And so is Lumine.”

“Well, I guess you’d better get with the program.” Bryn shrugged as we passed the chalet-like residences from which bleary-eyed human students stumbled.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” I couldn’t figure out how the skirt was supposed to lie, so I gave up trying to straighten it.

We walked in silence through the entrance and down the hall to the long row of senior lockers. The smell of the school that greeted me each day had changed. The sharp metallic of the lockers, acrid floor polish countering the freshness of the ceilings’ cedar beams were familiar, but the fear that usually seeped from the skin of the humans was missing.

Instead they smelled curious, surprised, a strange reaction from the boarders, whose lives were carefully segregated from the local Keepers and

Guardians. The only activities we shared were our classes. Having their eyes on me as we moved through the crowd of students jostling through the narrow space proved more than a little unsettling.

“Is everyone staring?” I tried not to sound nervous.

“Yep. Pretty much all staring.”

“Oh God,” I moaned, tightening my grip on my bag.

“At least you look hot.” Her cheerful response made my stomach flip.

“Please don’t say stuff like that to me. Ever.” Why did my mother do this to me? I felt like a sideshow freak at a carnival.

“Sorry,” Bryn said, toying with the multi-hued metallic bangles that jangled along her arm.

I switched out my homework for the books I needed in first and second period. The din of the hallway dropped to a buzz of curious whispers, and Bryn abruptly straightened from her casual pose.