Page 37 of Shift of Morals
Ash chuckled. “Even I can admit Ben is hot. I’d have to be blind not to see it.”
Most shifters had something about them that made them hard to resist. Ben was traditionally handsome, and he had a gentle way about him. Despite that gentleness, Ben’s magic was an inferno. He wasn’t a wolf, but he’d never disclosed what type he was. Not that it mattered. Caelan had warned me away from his healer, and I had heeded that warning.
Somewhat.
I wouldn’t tell Ben no if he asked me out again, but we could never have a serious relationship.
Not with all the secrets I held.
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, waving their words away. “How’s business this morning?”
“Here and there. There’s time to finish some projects and get the new bouquets done for your other lover boy.” Moira winked.
“Please stop,” I begged.
Tess moaned, louder than she normally did. We all froze. “Tess?”
“She approaches,” the banshee said and popped out of existence a second later.
There was only onesheTess would sense that well.
“Shit,” I swore. “My mother is here.”
Moira’s eyes widened. “She can’t get in. Right?”
“Right. But not letting her in is disrespectful.”
“And if she destroys everything?” Ash said, his features paler than normal.
“I’ll allow her in under fae hospitality rules. If she touches anything, even us, we can appeal to Cernunnos.” Who’d been suspiciously silent lately.
On that note, a phantom wind blew the door open, revealing a woman wearing a dress of bright blue silk.
All goddesses are beautiful. Those are basically the rules of the fae. But my mother? She was on a different level. Her hair was dark as night and flowers were carefully braided through the strands, her skin pale as cream. Long considered one of the most beautiful of the fae, my mother could stop traffic if she ever dropped her glamour among the humans. Right now, any tourists milling around would see a dark-haired woman, girl next door pretty, holding a basket of flowers.
We had the same azure-colored eyes, though my mother’s held a chill no matter how warmly she spoke.
Cliona, Goddess of beauty, love, and passion, Queen of the Banshees, Queen of the seas…I could go on and on with her titles, but the one that mattered most to me was the one I called her.
Mother.
“Hello,” I said politely.
One of her dark eyebrows went up. “Daughter, I always enjoy your warm greetings.”
“This is the second time I’ve seen you in only a few weeks. Is something wrong?”
She rolled her eyes, the gesture one of the most human I’d ever seen on her. “Does there have to be something wrong for me to visit my daughter?”
My eyes narrowed. “No, but I rarely see you. This is the first time I’ve seen you this much since I moved away.”
“Then maybe we should change that.”
No. We absolutely should not change our situation.
“You haven’t answered my question. What’s wrong?”
She scoffed, a delicate sound. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
