Dastien grunted softly and gave Chris a hard stare. “Sorry about that.” He went into the kitchen. “I have Coke, iced tea, lemonade, Diet Coke.”
Okay. So, these three were a little intense, but I was new. Of course, they were curious about me. It was only natural.
“Diet Coke, please.” I scanned the room, stopping on the couch. “Oh! Is that from Restoration Hardware?” I’d wanted that exact couch but in a U-shape.
“It is,” Cosette said. “It’s very comfortable.”
“Oh! And the pouf! I’ve always wanted one like that. All those rich colors. It’s so pretty.”
“You like it?” Dastien asked from the kitchen.
“Yeah. I mean, I know it’s so stupid—I’m still in school and everything—but about a year ago, I started making a binder for my dream house.” I spotted a bookshelf and moved closer to look at the titles. “I figure by the time I have it all figured out, I should have a job and be able to start house hunting. Maybe something in the woods would be good. I definitely want out of the city and a pond and—” Oh my God, I was rambling. There was no way they cared about this at all. “Sorry. I ramble when I’m nervous. I’ll shut up now.”
I looked over at them, and they were staring at me again.
Damn it.
Chris and Cosette shared a look, and then their looks shifted. He tilted his head a little, and she laughed, and then he gave a small shrug. It was weird, but it made me think they were talking to each other without actually saying a word. It had to be so nice—so comforting—to be that close with someone. I wished I had that.
Cosette moved to the table and sat down. “I’m starting without you, boys.” She looked at me. “Come on, Cassie. Don’t make me eat alone.”
I was starving, so I shrugged. “Shame to let this get cold.” I moved over to the table and noticed a big painting on the wall. I paused to look at it.
The woods were dark, but light beamed down on them from the full moon, giving them rich hues of green and brown. In the center of the trees was a pond. A little dock hung over the edge of the water. And— “Is that a wolf? I love wolves. They’re so beautiful.”
I stepped around the table to get closer to the painting. There was a galaxy of stars in the sky. It was always too bright in LA to ever see the stars like that.
The moon’s reflection in the pond rippled. I could almost imagine the girl poking her toes in the cold water on the hot summer night.
My gaze drifted back to the wolf. It looked so cuddly and soft, and the girl had one arm thrown across its back. Like it was nothing more than a big dog. “Wolf or a dog? Do you know?”
“It’s a wolf in that form,” Chris said. “Do you like it?”
“In that form? Is it a werewolf?” I looked at the painting closer, but it just looked like a wolf to me.
But the girl kept drawing my eye. I couldn’t see her face, but something about her felt familiar. Something about the dock girl. The color of her hair and the way she was sitting. Her comfort with the wolf. The land seemed familiar, too, but I’d never been to the country. It was just something that I dreamed about.
And then my gaze went back again to the girl.
Why did she seem familiar?
A headache started to pulse at my temples.
“Do you like it?”
My head wasn’t hurting that bad, but it was making it hard for me to think. I wanted to answer his question, to say yes—I knew I should—but something about that picture was uncomfortable to look at. I glanced away for a second and then went back to it.
My headache went from pulsing to stabbing. “Ummm. I like wolves, but werewolves scare me. I…”
“You don’t like werewolves?” Cosette’s tone sounded a little amused, but I was staring at the painting too hard to look away again. I needed to see something there. Something—
Pain sliced through my skull, and I hissed. I pressed my fingertips to my temples, trying to massage the pain away. “No. I don’t. I don’t know. I…”
Cosette sounded like she was choking—or maybe laughing—but my eyes were squeezed shut. I tried to open them, but the lights made it worse. So much worse.
“Are you okay?” Dastien’s soft voice was filled with concern.
“I’m okay. It’s just a migraine. I get them a lot since my accident.” I looked at the painting again, but it felt like someone stabbed me between the eyes with a sharp, fire-hot knife. The pain dropped me to my knees, but I never hit the floor.