I stood, still unsteady, and walked toward the mirror mounted crookedly above the dusty dresser. My reflection stared back at me. Pale, sweat-slicked, with jaw clenched in irritation.
I let my eyes roll back, let my flesh twist, and my bones crack.
The mirror seemed like it gurgled.
I hissed through clenched teeth as my muscles pulled tight, my skin shifting like it was being peeled and resewn from the inside out. Veins popped like tiny rivers rerouting themselves. My frame shrank slightly. Jaw sharpened. Cheekbones lifted.
Within moments, Luis was gone—and in his place stood Mateo Rivera.
Golden-skinned. That punchable, lopsided grin. That infuriating dimple on the left cheek, women seemed to lose IQ points over. His messy hair and lazy swagger, all of it was mine now.
I rolled my neck, letting the final adjustments settle.
He smelled like dental floss and citrus shampoo.
