Page 19 of Curses and Cauldrons

“How?” Roman asks exactly what I’m thinking. Does he know what my curse is? Even if he does, how does he know his touch doesn’t pain me?

“I’m not doing anything,” I murmur, the words ending on a choked breath as Roman’s hand slowly slides up my arm. His fingers wrap around my throat, and for a second, I think he’s going to squeeze. He’ll crush my windpipe, and I’ll die in a dark corner of Woodroot’s Apothecary.

Except he doesn’t choke me. His thumb presses against my jaw, angling my head back until I’m looking up at him. Staring into confused and stormy eyes.

“How are you doing this?”

10

ROMAN

Josephine swallows, her throat flexing under my hand. Her skin is warm and smooth. Her eyes flash in the darkness, a hint of spine buried under all this timidness. Who is this woman?

Her fingers wrap around my wrist, but she doesn’t pull me away. She exhales, and her lids lower dreamily. When she speaks, her voice is soft.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” A small laugh makes her chest vibrate. “I don’t understand any of this.”

The scent of herbs and woodsmoke from the shop can’t compete with the seductive combination of cloves and flowers surrounding Josephine. I lean in and inhale before I rear back. What the fuck is wrong with me?

This must be magic. Nothing else explains the draw. Yes, she’s pretty enough when she doesn’t look like she’s been on a bender for the past four days. Why is that, exactly? She looked like a goddess at the founders party. Earlier that day, when I had her trapped against the wall, she was pale and unsteady. I wouldhave never given her a second glance if I hadn’t accidentally discovered that I could touch her.

A frown creases my brow. Or would I?

Her eyes are a rare meadow green that I didn’t think existed in real life. Her lips are full and waiting for a kiss. Another kiss I can feel. On Saturday, I could have spent hours just tasting her, brushing my mouth against hers, and reveling in how good the simple action felt. Although it’s not so simple, is it?

I don’t know what magic this is. I should run for the hills, but that would be such a waste.

I lower my head until our lips are a breath away. I don’t know if she moves first or if it’s me, but suddenly, our mouths collide in a bruising kiss. I cup her cheek with my free hand. Her fingers wrap around that wrist, too, holding me close like she’s afraid I’m going to pull away. Sensations wash over me. The plush warmth of her lips, the press of her fingers into my arm, the softness of her skin. It’s a heady combination.

“Ahem.” A loud throat clears behind me. Josephine’s head jerks back, but I’m reluctant to release her.

“I know all these dark corners are inviting, but we’re not in a Regency ballroom. No making out amongst the potions. You might change their composition.” Morty Woodroot’s amused voice lectures. “Although, considering what section you’re in, it would probably boost their potency.”

The effort it takes to step back from Josephine is monumental. Her shoulders hunch, and she wraps her arms around her middle. Almost as if my touch was fortifying her in some way. She looks physically smaller, like she’s shrunk in on herself. I frown at the change. A glance over my shoulder confirms that Mortimer Woodroot is the cock blocker. He’s standing in the most ridiculous suit I’ve ever seen with his arms crossed and a smug look on his face.

“Roman Blackthorn, why I never.” The jackass pretends to cool himself with an imaginary fan. I've known Morty for fifteen years at least. He’s owned this store for as long as I can remember. Unlike many other people in this town, he’s only judgmental when you deserve it. He doesn’t give a shit what side of the river you live on. As long as you cough up the money, he’ll sell his goods to anyone. He’s an equal opportunity asshole.

“Josephine, my darling, I have all of your ingredients ready.”

Josephine slips past me, doing her best to avoid touching me anywhere, like that might trigger us to fall back into each other’s arms. Hell, maybe it will. I’m barely staving off the urge to grab her around the hips and pull her flush to my body. Fuck Morty. He can watch for all I care.

Morty is dangling a brown paper bag from his fingertips. Josephine grabs hold of it from the bottom, without making eye contact. There’s an odd look on Morty’s face when she takes the bag from him. I notice she goes out of her way not to touch him.

“I have something else for you, my dear.” Morty picks a book off the table next to him and holds it out for her.

“Oh, I didn’t bring any cash. I don’t think my mother would approve of this going on her bill.”

Morty clucks his tongue. “This one’s on me, baby girl. I think it would be beneficial for you to read up on some potion-making.”

Josephine’s eyes dart up to look at Morty before they shift to me. Her cheeks flush, and she looks away. “Okay. I will. Thank you.”

“What do you want, my little flower?” Morty turns to me, and Josephine seizes the opportunity to pluck the book from his hand and make her escape. I brush past the shopkeeper with a roll of my eyes, and catch up with the skittish witch just before she opens the door.

I slap a hand on the wood, caging her once more. This seems to be our preferred position. Her head whips around and she glares at me with the fire I just know she keeps buried down deep. I like seeing it come to the surface. That I’m the one who draws that reaction from her.

With my free hand, I pull a business card out of my suit pocket.

“Morty, I need a pen.” I barely have the request out before Morty is slapping a pen in my hand as though he anticipated it.

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