Page 17 of For the Love of the Gods

Rose smiled. Not at me, of course. At her own brilliance. “I think I figured it out.”

“And?” The urgency was still thick in my voice.

She gestured to the gray marble bowls on either side of her. “You didn’t have two sinks before, right?”

“No.” My question still hadn’t been answered.

“Then, I think my room is through that door,” Rose said, pointing at the door on the other end of the bathroom like that made even a little bit of sense. “Whatever magic it was that combined our houses must have liked the idea of his and her sinks.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Rose didn’t so much as flinch at my tone, even though it was inching closer and closer to murderous.

“See? Yours and mine.” When I didn’t drop the look of confusion from my face she added, “It’s a term designers use.”

“And why do you know that?” My shock was obvious.

“Quinn Hephaestus. He’s a fan of interior design.” She shrugged like that was entirely normal. “Did you not know that?”

“No,” I said through gritted teeth. I liked Quinn, but had no clue Rose knew him well enough to talk shop.

Then again, he was closer in age to her than I was.

My heart rate was starting to slow now that I was sure Rose wasn’t dead. I couldn’t make her life hell if she died. Especially not if she bit it before I could crack her cheery disposition.

She hopped off the sink, landing on the floor with the grace of a trained assassin.

“Okay, here goes nothing,” she said, placing a hand dramatically on the door knob. When she looked at me, I nodded, and that seemed to be the signal she was looking for.

The door swung open, revealing the same room that I’d been standing in mere hours before.

“See! Told you.” Rose looked positively triumphant.

I took my time looking around her room, taking in what I missed in the darkness last night. She had a huge bed, no grave or coffin in sight, that was covered in colorful pillows. There wasn’t one consistent color in her room, but everything seemed to match the rich navy walls.

The layout was similar to mine, the furniture almost the same, but in a bright color. I had a deep gray couch in the same place that her dark green one rested.

My vision caught on the back wall, and the scattered rainbow that took it up.

“Nice bookshelf.” I stepped towards it, catching on to a few titles I recognized from my own.

Rose stepped up next to me, and when I turned towards her, her expression was serious. “You touch it, and I kill you.”

This time the laugh escaped my throat, scraping out roughly. “Does the same consequence apply with mine?”

“Yes, but only if you catch me doing it.”

“Deal.” That was easy. Now I had a justified excuse to torture her when her curiosity got the best of her.

Rose nodded in agreement, and I tracked her movements as she turned to scan her room. If my home had just been broken into bits to meld into hers, I’d be looking at shit to.

She shot back into the bathroom, and I trailed her quickly.

When I reached her, she had a deeply dissatisfied expression resting on her face.

“Why are you frowning like that?”

Rose shook her head rapidly. “This isn’t going to work,” she said, waving her hands over the far left section of the countertop. It was covered in bottles and tubs of product, and I spotted the gold hairbrush from last night.

Nothing looked out of place to me. “I agree with you, but what in particular?”

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