"I'm a psycho at the bottom of the pack, and you're a warrior built to kill. Isn't it a weird mix?"
He shrugs, a wicked grin plastered to his face.
"I think it's the perfect mix."
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*Completed *
Klepto is a werewolf, an...
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Klepto POV
When I wake up, there's an obvious shift in the air that sizzles through my veins like an unstoppable wildfire.
Hmmm. How strange.
I spring up into a sitting position, only to bang my head straight on the freaking ceiling, to which I react by yelping. I rub at my forehead very gently as it continues to ache.
An eruption of laughter splits the room, and I wrench my throbbing head to the side to find my sister, Penelope, sitting cross legged on her bed. She's got a blonde lock wrapped tightly around a curling iron. I can smell her hair burning from here.
She's at the tender age of 16, and yet she follows in Tressa's footsteps of primping and polishing every single morning.
Not that that's an inherently bad thing, but sometimes it just gets a bit excessive. Okay, maybe a lot excessive.
But hey, if that's what they how they want to spend literal hours of their precious time on, then that's their prerogative.
"What? Have a nightmare?" She asks, and I spot Tressa snorting softly as she comes strutting perfectly pristine out of the closet. My older sister whirls a pink scarf in the air while she cascades around likes she's a fairy.
"Probably dreaming that we ran out of cake." She quips, looking over herself in the mirror with a glint in her eye. They both laugh, sharing a knowing look of humor that I don't understand. They're as cruel as can be this morning.
I quickly climb down to get dressed for the day even though I would much rather lay in bed all day. My stomach rumbles to remind me I haven't eaten since my lunch yesterday, both of my sisters stare at me for a second with smiles on their faces before giggling profusely.
Penelope turns to Tressa. "Even the word cake makes her excited." She says, and I peer down at the wood floors while I out my clothes on, not trusting myself to open my mouth quite yet. The comebacks I had held inside would make them cry, too bad I can't risk the punishment I could earn.
They're not worth it.
I pull on a pair of shorts a t-shirt. The shirt is dark green and plain and I feel confident in it, mostly because I've never really been a fashionista so I like to keep things simple, basic. One less thing for them to make fun of me for I suppose. Which of course I know isn't true because they always seem to have something to say.
"If I didn't know any better, I'd say she was a cross dressing walrus." Penelope says while I strap on my trusty converse, which are the only pair of shoes that I have to my name.
I ignore their words and turn to the both of them, who are too caught up in their laughter to notice my stare.
"Hope you guys have a great day." I try, smiling brightly, slinging my bag onto my shoulder.
