Page 55 of Magic and Matrimony

He did ask Amanda’s permission, I guess. Ambrose holds the dropper over the cup and three drops plunk into the tea.

“Milk, sugar?” Ambrose asks.

“You know exactly how I like my tea.” Amanda sighs, as though Ambrose hasn’t asked her, but is reciting her preferences.

He nods, his shoulders sagging as he takes her the tea. Amanda brushes her finger over Ambrose’s as she takes the cup from him. Rage sweeps over me, so powerful that I turn around. Did I kiss Ambrose and have somehow forgotten? This reaction is not normal.

“Can’t you get rid of her? Who is she, anyway?” Amanda’s voice is whiny and babyish. Is this the kind of woman Ambrose goes for? The woman at the Hollows was beautiful, so is Amanda. One was blonde, one a brunette. What do they have in common?

“Would you like some tea?” I ask Ambrose as I turn back around. He gives me a disgusted look and shakes his head. He’s sitting on the couch, and Amanda is practically in his lap. The lap that I was grinding all over this morning. I barely hold back my groan.

“No, thank you.”

I busy myself by making my own cup, even though I have no desire to drink it. I know approximately how long it takes for the sleeping potion to kick in and I’m counting down the seconds.

Lifting my tea, I take a sip and wince. No. That’s not for me.

A snore cuts through the silence of the room, and I finally look back at the couch. Amanda is passed out, her head rolled back and her mouth wide open. That must be a stronger potion than the ones I make.

“I’ve learned to keep that potion handy over the years.” Ambrose smiles, but it’s wilted at the edges. He extricateshimself from Amanda, swapping his body with a pillow that she takes and immediately hugs to her chest.

“I’m sorry.” Ambrose’s voice is rough. He’s standing in front of me, but I can’t look up from my tea.

My focus is on the brown liquid in my cup. “I don’t even like tea.”

“I don’t either,” Ambrose says, sounding defeated. When I lift my head, he’s staring out the window. Suddenly, I don’t feel cozy and warm in the house, while the weather blusters outside. It feels like a jail.

I jump when there’s a knock on the door.

“Do you think that’s her father already?” Crone help me, I hope so.

Ambrose stalks across the room. I set my cup down and chase after him. Instead of there being a person waiting on the other side, there’s a letter. Ambrose rips into it.

“It’s from the coven. There’s another trial coming up.”

27

AMBROSE

The last few days have been trying. After Piper and I got the note about the next trial, we had to wait for Amanda’s father to come get her. Her family moved out of town several years ago, but this isn’t the first time Amanda has shown up on my front stoop.

Piper has been distant since the incident. I hate everything about what happened. The way my curse works. The fact that there are women out there I kissed before I knew what my curse was. Even now, I question my behavior over the years. Maybe I should have become a monk after I figured out what was happening. Instead, it was like my curse became a challenge I had to overcome, and I turned to fucking any woman who smiled in my direction. Not kissing them. I never crossed that line after I found out.

The curses in this town make no fucking sense. Piper’s curse physically debilitates her. Mine hurts other people. If I was an asshole, I could go about my life without giving two shits about how my curse impacts others. But I can’t get the picture out of my head of Amanda’s manic eyes as she petted me. The wayRebecca sobbed as she was dragged out of the Hollows that night. And now Piper has seen the consequences of my actions. I hate how that might change her view of me. How could it not?

Our invitation to the next trial instructed us to appear at sunset on the evening of the witching moon. A witching moon is a particularly powerful magical night. It happens once a year in the spring. It’s a time of renewal and rebirth. The pull of the moon is more powerful, and our magic burns a little brighter on this night.

Historically, the night of the witching moon has been a reason for us to go out and party. There’s extra sexy energy in the air that amounts to a good time had by all. Instead, we’re headed toward the Tenebris coven house for our next council trial. The last thing I want is to spend the witching moon with Tucker Beaumont and my fucking mother.

Already I feel the influence of the coming moon. The sun hasn’t even set, but that’s how powerful this night is. I can’t keep my eyes off Piper. She’s wearing jeans and a green sweater that shows hints of her stomach every time she lifts her arm. I haven’t touched her since the morning of the storm. I’ve been giving her space because I know she’s unsettled by what she saw. That doesn’t mean my fingers don’t itch to find the sliver of space between her sweater and jeans. To tug up the hem and expose more of her creamy skin and taste every inch of her body until she’s trembling and moaning my name. It’s getting harder to tamp down those urges as the days go by.

“Are we going to drive around in circles, or are you going to park?” Piper asks, chuckling gently and pulling me out of my daydream.

“What?” Shit. I realize I’ve driven past the coven house.

“This is the fourth time you’ve gone around the block. There’s a spot right there and another over there.” Piper points to open parking spaces and I curse under my breath.

“Sorry, I’m distracted. Witching moon. Coven trials,” I mumble, as if she’s not the one who truly has me distracted.