Ah, so this was the game we were playing. All right.
I smacked my lips together and crossed my arms. If they wanted to try to intimidate me, good luck. I had fourteen different foster brothers and six sisters. All of whom had a chip on their shoulder.
“What’s wrong, sis? Cat got your tongue?”
Sis sounded way too dirty on his lips. “Don’t call me that.”
“Why not? That’s what you are, isn’t it?”
He may have a point, but that didn’t mean I was going to take part in any of this. “You know what else I am?”
He arched an intrigued brow.
“Leaving,” I said and walked away. I’d find my own damn room.
Magnus had other ideas.
When I made for the stairs, he stepped in front of me, blocking my path.
“Do you mind?”
His response was to lean back and silently size me up.
Whatever.
One of the benefits of being short was that I could squeeze through small spaces. Like, say, under the arm of an asshole.
With a quick roll of my eyes, I slipped past him and stormed up the steps.
“Watch your back, Faster Care,” Magnus called after me.
“I think you should be more worried about your back.” I paused to glance over my shoulder. “Your brother looks like an ass man.”
Go fuck yourself, Magnus, and take your dipshit brother with you.
One would think that finding a bedroom wouldn’t be that hard. Yet here I was, lost in a mansion for what felt like hours, and I still had no clue where my room was. Mind you, I could’ve found it already and not known. So far, I’d counted around twelve bedrooms. On top of the various offices, sitting rooms, and other rooms.
It was seriously ominous how huge this place was. At one point, I could’ve sworn I’d stepped through a time portal and was wandering around Dracula’s castle. Ever been in a hallway lined with suits of armor? It was creepy as fuck.
I kept glancing over my shoulder to make sure one of those metal men wasn’t following me. Then I went around a corner and was suddenly face-to-face with a pair of empty eyes. I damn near kicked it.
One thing was for sure: I was never going down that hallway again.
All I wanted to do was find my room. Was that too much to ask? Hell, at this point, I’d settle for one of those unreadable maps the zoo had, or a big neon sign with a flickering arrow.
Every room I went into with the intention of finding my clothes. Stacy shipped most of them up here last week. So I assumed whichever room was mine would house my wardrobe of jeans and t-shirts.
Shouldn’t be too hard to find in a place like that, right?
Wrong.
The only closet I came across that didn’t house brand name clothing was full of brooms and mops. Not nearly enough, in my opinion, for the square footage that had to be cleaned.
I did find a few interesting things. An old journal written in another language, a closet full of mismatched socks—don’t know what that was about—and a theater room. That was one room I might use one day. There was nothing like watching a movie all alone with a tub full of popcorn.
Magnus’s and Wyatt’s bedrooms were the next ones I found. I knew they were theirs because Wyatt’s was full of pictures of himself. With a shirt on, with a shirt off, posing somewhere, and of course there was the naked album, which I quickly threw across the room.
The first thing I learned about my stepbrother shouldn’t be that his nipples weren’t the only thing pierced.
