Sweet Luna was about to hand a Monster her secrets willingly.
Could anyone blame me for wanting them? For being downright greedy for them?
“My family leads the Cordoza Coven,” she began softly.
Immediately, I stepped back.
Not away.
Never away.
But enough to give her room when I realized she needed it.
She slid slowly down the wall until she sat curled on the floor beside my couch, oversized sleeves swallowing her hands.
I stared at her.
Fascinated.
How strange that she relaxed more once physically lower to the ground.
Smaller.
Safer.
Something ugly twisted in my chest at the implication.
Without thinking, I lowered myself beside her, stretching my arms across my knees while trying very hard not to focus on how closely her thigh rested to mine.
“What does that mean for you?” I asked quietly.
She let out a humorless laugh.
“It means expectations.”
Her eyes dropped toward the floor.
“A lot of them.”
The sadness in her voice hit harder than it should have.
“I was born into one of the oldest Witch bloodlines in our region,” she continued. “The Cordozas are… kind of intense about legacy.”
“Kind of?”
That earned me another tiny smile.
Gods.
There it was again.
That sharp burst of irrational happiness every time I coaxed one out of her.
“I’m the youngest of eight daughters,” she said. “My mother is Evelyn Cordoza. Head of the Coven. My father is Enrique.”
I waited.
There was more.
