Page 14 of Monster's Heart

How odd to let her defenses down around me. Like she had no care in the world when I was the most unstable, and therefore dangerous, person possibly in the entirety of Blackthorn Academy. Without any other recourse, I joined her, my butt hitting the ground softly as I placed my arms on my pulled up knees and waited, but patience was not my forte.

“What does that mean for you?” I prompted.

“It means a lot of expectations from the minute I was born, and I just couldn’t meet them. I was always a disappointment. Unlucky number eight, that’s me. My Coven holds the number seven sacred, and I spoiled that bit for my parents. Mom, especially. My sisters went here,” she said, and there was a sad smile on her face.

“What?” I growled.

How could any parent be disappointed with her?

She was amazing.

Anger surged through my blood, and I wanted to rain down my wrath on them. They should have done better. They should never have made her feel like that.

“I am the youngest of eight girls born to the Witch Evelyn Cordoza, head of our Coven, and her husband, my father, Enrique. The women in our family keep our surnames because they are the ones who inherit the power,” she said, and huffed a sigh.

“Dad was hardly around, and when he was, it didn’t matter. I was always the extra. The oops baby. Anyway, that’s not important,” she continued.

But it was to me. Everything she said was important. Each piece of information gleaned about her life, giving insight into who she really was, and what made her tick, was of extreme importance to me. I slowed my breathing, willing myself to calm down.

I wanted her to feel safe.

Fuck, was she safe.

She didn’t know it yet, but I’d do anything to keep her that way. Already my protective instincts were going haywire, and I knew then that all those years ago, back home when I was younger and thought myself destined to be mated to the beautiful and cold Ingrid that I’d been mistaken.

Grossly mistaken.

My brother’s mate had never made me feel like this. Protective and anxious, nervous, and concerned all at the same time. I was on a rollercoaster of emotions, and I had no experience with it at all. So I did the only thing I could do. I rode it out.

“My sisters look like my mother. They’re beautiful. Tall, thin, perfect little Witches with their powers present the second they came of age. But not me. I take after my paternal grandmother, who was of Spanish and Italian descent. She was wonderful, my Nana, and she was the only one who ever really loved me, now that I think about it.”

Her whispered words burned inside my eardrums, making my vision darken with anger.

How could her family not love her?

Why was she so sad thinking about a grandmother whom she said she looked like?

And who the fuck decided skinny was the only pretty?

Fucking ludicrous bullshit.

Whoever that bastard was, he had a special place in one of the realms of Hell, I was sure of it.

Still, I bit my tongue and waited for her to finish. I liked listening to her husky sweet voice. The way she talked. The inflection she placed on certain words that told me what was important to her. I liked it all. And I wanted to learn more.

“Sorry, I just miss her. Anyway, the summer she died, the entire Coven gathered for her funeral. It was a huge affair, my mother being who she was, and there were so many people, no one was really watching us. I was thirteen, missing my Nana, and my sisters, led by the oldest, who was about nineteen at that time, cornered me in the graveyard with some of the boys from school,” she said, voice shaky.

“They used to tease me all the time. It was nothing new. The name calling, poking fun at my weight and my lack of magic. Even though we don’t usually inherit powers till later, all my sisters showed hints of what theirs would be when they were just children. I admired them, still, and I didn’t know why they were so angry with me. So disappointed. Disgusted maybe,” she continued, but a rattle crept up my chest and I knew she heard it when her pale eyes flicked to mine.

“Sorry. Do you want me to stop?”

“No. But don’t you fucking dare say sorry again for them, Luna. They don’t deserve your compassion. Now, please, tell me the rest,” I said, my voice half an octave deeper than normal.

“Um, okay. Well, the funeral procession was long, and they had me cornered. They taunted me, and I was crying so I ran, but I didn’t see where I was going. It was partly my fault, I guess. You see, they chased me, and I ran inside an old family mausoleum. The door had been partially open, and I crept in. It was all the way at the very edge of the cemetery. Once I was inside, I hid behind a big statue, well, I thought it was a statue, but really it was an urn holding the remains of the matriarch Witch buried there,” she explained.

“And then?” I asked when she paused for more than a beat.

Her expression changed, and I knew she was back there in her mind. Back in the mausoleum. A young, scared little girl, and before I could stop myself, I touched her leg. A quick, reassuring squeeze right above her knee, and fuck, my cock hardened painfully. I was a sick fuck, getting turned on while she shared one of her most painful memories.

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