Page 60 of Curses and Cauldrons

I slip my arms under Josephine’s body. She turns toward me even in her sleep, her nose nuzzling into my chest. I stand, keeping her tight to me. My magic presses against my skin. Not my shadows but the glow of all my power that exists deep inside me. It flows out of me and soaks into Josephine’s skin with a faint glow that I’m not sure anyone else can see. What the hell is this?

I swallow thickly, my heart in my throat. “Yeah. Let’s get out of here.”

31

JOSEPHINE

Iwake up slowly. Everything aches, and I can’t remember how I got into bed. Even opening my eyes takes effort, so I leave them closed and take stock of my body. That’s when I notice something is off. The warm scent that surrounds me is not from my bed. I run my hand down my side and find that I’m not in my pajamas. I’m in constricting clothes that I wouldn’t choose to wear on a normal day, much less to bed.

“Jo? Are you awake? I think she’s waking up.” The bed dips beside me, and Pen’s frantic voice grows closer.

“Penelope?” My voice is rough.

A hand lands on mine, and I snatch it away, only to realize it’s Roman. My eyes fly open and dart around the room—a room that isn’t mine. Dark gray walls, black-and-white photography, and a massive bed that screams masculine fill the space. I must be in Roman’s bedroom.

So is Penelope.

My sister is sitting on the bed beside me. She’s far enough away to make sure she doesn’t touch me, but still manages to hover.

“What happened?” Even as I ask, memories come rushing back.

Dinner at my parents’ house. The library. My mother, my father, and Camille. Fuck. The siphoning spell in the grimoire. I groan and pull at my dress.

“Those assholes touched you until you passed out,” Penelope snarls. I’m not about to curb her cursing. She’s twelve, not five, and she’s not wrong either.

I snap up to a seated position, almost slamming my head against Roman’s. He moves out of the way a second before our skulls crack together.

“Whoa.” His hand lands on my shoulder, and he squeezes. “What just happened?”

“Pen. Mom is going to kill you. Shit.” I turn to Roman. “Why would you take her out of there?”

“She’s not going anywhere. If we have to hide her away until she’s eighteen, we will, but I’m not going to let her go back into that home. Just like you’re not going back to work.”

“First of all, don’t tell me what to do.” Penelope snickers beside me, but I ignore her. I’ve spent my whole life having people bosoms around. I’m not going to let Roman take over for my mother.

“Secondly.” I grab Roman’s face and pull him down for a kiss. I don’t care that my sister is making gagging noises. She can turn her head away.

I’m not an idiot. He got me and Pen out of my parents’ house. If he hadn’t taken my sister with us, she’d be vulnerable. I’d be vulnerable. My mother would use her as leverage against me, but more than that, she could hurt her.

“Thank you,” I whisper against his lips.

Roman grabs hold of my hand, brushing his thumb against the back of it. “I’d say anytime, but I never want that to happenagain. I have some ideas about what to do next, but let’s get the both of you settled, and we can talk everything through later.”

I look over at Penelope and find her shoulders drooped and her overly tired eyes sporting a glassy look. “Are you okay staying here for the night?” I stop and look at Roman with a frown. “Is it okay for us to stay here tonight?”

“We’d have a problem if you tried to go anywhere else.”

Pen snorts, and Roman gives her a sly grin. “Here’s the deal. I’ve got a spare room that Penelope can stay in. There’s a TV, every streaming service known to man, and a private bathroom. Odie’s got some extra clothes here that you can use for pajamas, assuming you don’t want to sleep in your dress.” Roman cocks his head as if he’s only now seeing what Pen is wearing. Our mother is holding on to some odd notion that she’s still a child and has her dressed up like the Von Trapp family. It’s ironic, really, because that’s the only way she treats Pen like a child.

“Is it okay if I go show Penelope everything?” Roman looks to me for permission, and I turn to look at Penelope.

“Throw some snacks in, and you’ve got a deal,” she says.

“That can be arranged.” Roman dips his head and stands from the bed. He doesn’t get far before he leans down and presses a kiss to my forehead.

I will not swoon.

I swoon a little.

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