Page 2 of Wynter

“Zoe Wynter,” she exclaims, looking past me to the storm brewing outside. “Did you make it snow?”

“Course I did.” I wink, even though I’m no Jack Frost. “What happened to your ankle? It’s not broken, is it?”

“No. Just a mild sprain,” Amber says, and shifts into a Yeti. A very large, pot-bellied, male Yeti dressed in pink, fluffy boxers.

I snort.

Yeti Amber responds with a terrifying Yeti growl.

I ignore it and take a seat next to her. By kicking off my boots and levitating crosslegged a few inches above the barstool, of course. And I don’t mean the same one occupied by Amber’s large, hairy, Yeti feet—gross—but the one next to it.

Does floating like this in mid-air take a lot of concentration? Sure. Is it totally worth it? Definitely.

“Julian spelled my skates,” Yeti Amber says, not batting an eye at my display. Then again, she’s mated to a guy with wonky magic, so what’s a little levitation?

“Shouldn’t he know better by now? I mean, after all the times his magic goes wrong?”

“It wasn’t his fault,” Yeti Amber growls. “Ember was at the rink training and I thought if I shifted into her I’d be able to do some figure skating tricks, too.”

“And you couldn’t?”

“Nope. Which is why Julian decided to throw in a bit of magic. Except…” She shrugs her Yeti shoulders and gestures at her ankle. Then she takes another sip from her vial and shifts into a troll. A very familiar-looking troll in a police uniform.

“You know that shifting into your sister’s mate is the equivalent of incest, right?” I say just to mess with her.

“Is not!” Troll Amber lets out a growl that rivals the Yeti’s and then some.

I barely contain a laugh.

If it was any other angry troll, I would back the hell away. Magic or not. I’ve got a healthy sense of self-preservation, thank you very much. But Troll Amber would never hurt me, and I would never hurt her.

“I was only kidding,” I say. “Though that look… priceless.”

Troll Amber’s actual look? Furious bordering on homicidal. So typical troll. And absolutely hilarious.

“Not funny, Zoe!” Troll Amber pouts. But the Pouting Troll look does it, and I can’t help it. I burst out laughing.

Troll Amber giggles—which is not a sound you ever want to hear from a troll—and shifts back. Then she takes another sip from her vial. And shifts into a demon, an elk, and a tiny male pixie in quick succession.

“What’s in the vial?” I narrow my eyes on it. It has the same Highway to Spells logo as the ice pack, which means it must be some sort of potion.

“Painkiller,” Pixie Amber—who’s an oddly attractive little guy, despite having pink skin and translucent wings—holds up the now much smaller vial in silent salute.

“Wait!” I cry, but it’s too late.

Pixie Amber downs the remaining contents and her Chameleon powers go haywire.

First, she shifts into one of the male strippers I’ve seen at Club Vee. He’s shirtless, with low-riding jeans that show off midnight-blue skin and six-pack abs. Amber’s gaze snaps down to his crotch, her cheeks turn dark purple in an obvious blush, and she shifts into an elk.

“Weird junk?” I ask, and I don’t mean the elk. Though, I do wonder what elk shifters have down there.

Elk Amber responds with a series of short, loud grunts and shifts into a little girl.

I know it’s still Amber beneath the cute space buns and sparkling purple Converse, but talking to a kid about a man’s crotch seems all kinds of wrong.

“So now that I’m here, how can I help?” I quickly change the subject. “Do you want me to bring you anything? Some food? A blanket?”

I almost add crayons. I mean, she does look eight, even if logically, I know she’s still Amber.