I was mortified. You idiot, I thought. He's almost eighteen! He's definitely had sex. Maybe even with Bree, a tiny voice added.

I shook my head. "Sorry," I said, trying to sound casual. "It was just a surprise."

"No, no, I'm sorry," he said. He reached out and took my hand, and I was mesmerized by its warmth, its strength. "You call me here, and I jump on you. I shouldn't have. I'm sorry." He raised my fingers to his mouth and kissed them. "The thing is, I've been wanting to kiss you ever since I met you." He smiled slightly.

I calmed down. "I've wanted to kiss you, too," I admitted.

He smiled. "My witch," he said, running a finger down my cheek, leaving a thin trail of heat. "Now, how did you tell your mother that you're a blood witch?"

I sighed. "This morning she found a pile of my Wicca books, magick books, on the front porch. She stormed into my room, yelling at me, saying they were blasphemous." I sounded more together than I felt remembering that awful scene. "I thought she was being so hypocritical—I mean, if I'm a blood witch, then she and my dad would have to be, too. Right?"

"Pretty much," said Cal. "Definitely, with someone who has powers as strong as yours, both your parents would have to be."

I frowned. "What about only one parent?"

"An ordinary man and a female witch can't conceive a baby," Cal explained. "A male witch can get an ordinary woman pregnant, but it's a conscious thing. And their baby would have very weak powers at best, or possibly none at all. Not like you."

I felt like I had accomplished something: I was a powerful witch.

"Okay," Cal said. "Now, why were your books on the front porch? Were you hiding them?"

"Yes," I said bitterly. "At Bree's house. This morning she left them on my porch. Because you and I kissed last night."

"What?" Cal asked, a dark expression crossing his face.