I was halfway down the hall when I heard it—that cursed voice that had haunted me since birth.
"Rhiannon."
I froze. Damn it.
Seraphine stood at the base of the staircase like some regal, crimson specter.
Long dark robes, red-tipped horns gleaming, and that classic Mom Pose: arms crossed, eyes narrowed, a single orange slice delicately pinched between two fingers like it was a weapon.
How the hell did she move so silently? Did she teleport into place like a vampire? Was she just lurking behind the curtains like some gothic panther, waiting for her prey to sneak out?
"Where are you going?"
I considered lying. "Library," I blurted.
She raised one arched brow. "In a dress?"
I looked down. Okay, maybe the black halter dress with the little heart cutout and the combat boots wasn't the most "library" outfit. Damn it. "The library has standards now?" I tried.
"You're wearing lip gloss."
"I'm nourishing my lips!"
