Read Online Under the Moon by Natalie J. Damschroder - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Natalie J. Damschroder
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her, things to help me focus my power and learn how to use it. But my mom was the one who actually taught me.”
“Did you ever look for your birth parents once you were an adult?”
She shook her head. “Of course I thought about it, all adopted kids do, but I decided not to. At first, I didn’t want to hurt my parents.” They’d been a close-knit family, especially after her father quit the corporate world to open the bar. Her mother was a traditional housewife who didn’t use her power for commercial use. Seeking her other parents had seemed insulting, and then Quinn’s father had his first heart attack when she was nineteen. He stayed fragile until he died seven years later, leaving her the bar she’d renamed Under the Moon. Her mother suffered so much with his death that Quinn hadn’t even considered adding to it.
“After Mom died, I was so lonely it was easy to spin fantasies about reconnecting with my birth family. But I decided there were more reasons I’d be sorry than glad if I tried.”
Nick shifted closer on the cushions and lifted her feet into his lap, stretching out her legs. He rubbed her arch, like he often did after she’d worked a long shift at the bar—with care and skill and no awareness he was doing it. Warmth blossomed where he touched her and seeped up through her muscles. The banked hunger glowed a little, but she was so tired and so distracted by their conversation it remained low, present but ignorable.
“What kind of reasons?” he asked.
“The usual. However young they’d been, they were still together eight years later. What if it hadn’t worked out after that and they were both miserable and blamed me? Or it could have been the opposite, and they had a great life together I wasn’t a part of.”
“But you had a good life without them, too.” He pressed his thumb deep into her arch, stroking upward, and she shivered.
“Yes, and being sorry I wasn’t part of their life would have been disloyal to Mom and Dad.” She’d still had to work hard to fight the disappointment when they never tried to contact her again. “Mom wasn’t a very powerful goddess. She derived her power from plant energy but couldn’t draw enough to do spectacular things. I was afraid if my birth mother was as powerful as I can be, especially if she had a constant source, that would make Mom feel bad, too.”
“Not after she was gone,” Nick pointed out.
Quinn shook her head. “No, the only real risk after they’d both died was that I’d be rejected. Whatever I found couldn’t hurt Mom and Dad, then. But my birth parents didn’t want me when I was born, and they didn’t want me when I was eight, so why would they want me at twenty-six?” Her throat tightened, the vulnerability of being left behind returning. “Or what if they welcomed me at first but decided they didn’t like me? I was already in too much pain to face that.”
Nick nodded and slid his hand from the top of her foot to her ankle, resting it there. His heat seeped through her sock, relaxing her even more. But god, it was easy to remember that pain. Only the bar and Nick’s visits had given her anything to be happy about at first. Slowly, she’d built her own independent life. And then Sam came along, and the pain had faded.
“I don’t know much more than that,” Nick told her. “Just that they’re from New England and were still here fifteen years ago.”
His gaze went distant and Quinn wondered if he was thinking of his own family. His parents had both been protectors, two strong legacies who went back to the origin of the Protectorate. Nick had wanted to be a protector since he was a little boy, but then his parents had been injured in a mundane car accident and forced to retire. His two older brothers had nothing to do with goddesses, so it was up to Nick to carry on the family legacy. It drove every choice he made.
“How often do you see your family?” she asked, stifling a yawn. Her eyelids had gained
“Did you ever look for your birth parents once you were an adult?”
She shook her head. “Of course I thought about it, all adopted kids do, but I decided not to. At first, I didn’t want to hurt my parents.” They’d been a close-knit family, especially after her father quit the corporate world to open the bar. Her mother was a traditional housewife who didn’t use her power for commercial use. Seeking her other parents had seemed insulting, and then Quinn’s father had his first heart attack when she was nineteen. He stayed fragile until he died seven years later, leaving her the bar she’d renamed Under the Moon. Her mother suffered so much with his death that Quinn hadn’t even considered adding to it.
“After Mom died, I was so lonely it was easy to spin fantasies about reconnecting with my birth family. But I decided there were more reasons I’d be sorry than glad if I tried.”
Nick shifted closer on the cushions and lifted her feet into his lap, stretching out her legs. He rubbed her arch, like he often did after she’d worked a long shift at the bar—with care and skill and no awareness he was doing it. Warmth blossomed where he touched her and seeped up through her muscles. The banked hunger glowed a little, but she was so tired and so distracted by their conversation it remained low, present but ignorable.
“What kind of reasons?” he asked.
“The usual. However young they’d been, they were still together eight years later. What if it hadn’t worked out after that and they were both miserable and blamed me? Or it could have been the opposite, and they had a great life together I wasn’t a part of.”
“But you had a good life without them, too.” He pressed his thumb deep into her arch, stroking upward, and she shivered.
“Yes, and being sorry I wasn’t part of their life would have been disloyal to Mom and Dad.” She’d still had to work hard to fight the disappointment when they never tried to contact her again. “Mom wasn’t a very powerful goddess. She derived her power from plant energy but couldn’t draw enough to do spectacular things. I was afraid if my birth mother was as powerful as I can be, especially if she had a constant source, that would make Mom feel bad, too.”
“Not after she was gone,” Nick pointed out.
Quinn shook her head. “No, the only real risk after they’d both died was that I’d be rejected. Whatever I found couldn’t hurt Mom and Dad, then. But my birth parents didn’t want me when I was born, and they didn’t want me when I was eight, so why would they want me at twenty-six?” Her throat tightened, the vulnerability of being left behind returning. “Or what if they welcomed me at first but decided they didn’t like me? I was already in too much pain to face that.”
Nick nodded and slid his hand from the top of her foot to her ankle, resting it there. His heat seeped through her sock, relaxing her even more. But god, it was easy to remember that pain. Only the bar and Nick’s visits had given her anything to be happy about at first. Slowly, she’d built her own independent life. And then Sam came along, and the pain had faded.
“I don’t know much more than that,” Nick told her. “Just that they’re from New England and were still here fifteen years ago.”
His gaze went distant and Quinn wondered if he was thinking of his own family. His parents had both been protectors, two strong legacies who went back to the origin of the Protectorate. Nick had wanted to be a protector since he was a little boy, but then his parents had been injured in a mundane car accident and forced to retire. His two older brothers had nothing to do with goddesses, so it was up to Nick to carry on the family legacy. It drove every choice he made.
“How often do you see your family?” she asked, stifling a yawn. Her eyelids had gained
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