Page 37 of Blue Moon Mistress

It’s a miracle that when I find the words, they aren’t “What the fuck.”

I manage to compose myself, letting the silence linger just long enough he feels awkward.

“I think you should leave, Anthony. Aside from the fact you’re wrong about what my family does and doesn’t want. If they cared about my partners’ magical abilities, you would not pass their measurements.”

Anthony jerks upright eyes sharp with offense.

But he doesn’t deserve an apology after that nonsense. Lineage and magical bloodlines… utter nonsense. A witch’s powers were passed through the matriarchal line. A person’s father could be as powerful or as weak as possible… and it would not change the outcome of the power passed on through their mother.

Clearing his throat, Anthony blinks at me and then shoots another glare Joshua’s way before he stalks back toward his shop.

“It’s strange…” he says, finishing his sandwich. “Being so much bigger than you and not needing to protect you at all…”

“If you guys weren’t… special, you wouldn’t think I was small.”

“Do you think he’d react better or worse if he knew I’m not ‘just a human’?”

“I’d rather not find out at all.”

Joshua snaps his empty sandwich container closed and sets it back in the box, offering me coffee from the thermos. I decline and he takes my finished dishes, slipping them into the lunch box before sliding the thermos back inside.

“So, ex boyfriend?” Joshua guesses as he watches Anthony walk halfway down the boardwalk.

“He’s hinted at putting in an application, but he hasn’t even gotten an interview.”

“Are you saying that dating you is a job?”

“It probably feels like it.”

“And where does one find these applications? I know none of us want to be disqualified on a technicality.”

I laugh and shake my head at him. “If you want one, I can probably come up with something.”

“Only if you’ll hold it against us later.” He pulls me to my feet and tugs me in the opposite direction of the one Anthony went in.

We pause briefly by the plastic sheeting, and he sets the lunch box down before pulling me close and heading for the structure his crew finished a few months ago.

I know he prefers the fun, fancy stuff, but walking through the scaffolding—constructed out of reclaimed bridge pilings—this space feel like something found, not constructed.

Joshua pulls me to a stop, backing me up to one of those pillars and takes my lips.

It is an unhurried kiss, a languid and searching press of our mouths, and I grip his lapels, holding him tightly to me.

When he pulls back, it’s with a reluctant growl, and the loss of his warmth makes me shiver.

“The laws you make me want to break…” He shakes his head and gives me a reluctant laugh.

It makes me tip my head back and blow out a breath. Because it would be easy to throw up an obscuring glamor and participate in a little public indecency.

But there are habits I don’t need to start.

My head is still tipped all the way back when I see it.

A small bundle peeking out from the space between two of the supports.

It could easily have been mistaken for a bird’s nest, but…

I reach up—glad I wore gloves—and snag the thing by its head. Dragging it down, I’m surprised at just how long the skirt is.

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