wasn't like she couldn't have changed her status if she'd wanted to. She'd had plenty of opportunities. She was pretty to look at. There were three mirror images of herself at home, and her sisters were beautiful.
Stunning. Captivating each in their own way.
She wondered which way was hers?
Mother hen, Moira would say. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing, Tierra thought, but it wasn't sexy. She didn't think any of her sisters would use sexy to describe her.
She glanced down at what she wore. Today she'd thrown on a billowing floral chiffon skirt in dusty pinks and purples with a lacy lavender top that looked like it could have been worn by her grandmother, or great-grandmother, maybe even great-great-grandmother.
She'd procured most of her clothing from the chests in the attic, after all. But she liked how roomy and comfortable her clothes were. She had updated her look with goddess sandals and glittery painted toenails, adding an ankle bracelet that gave a soft, musical sound each time she moved.
Maybe she wore too many bracelets? Both wrists had multiple crystal and homemade hemp jewelry. An old Celtic moon hung around her neck and rested between her breasts. She'd found that in the chest in the attic too.
Well, hell she even wore a wrap to ward off the chill. Was she eighty?
Aerin didn't have anything hanging off her. She was so well put together, sleek and sexy like a cat. Men took her seriously.
Claire was similar, except instead of the boardroom power suit she'd preferred more leather that befitted a bar room. Moira never had enough clothes on to have any kind of style, while Tierra maybe wore too many.
All of her sisters seemed to have their fair share of sexual experiences. They were completely confident in who they were as women. Until today, Tierra hadn't doubted her confidence as a sexual being.
Did she put men off?
No, men approached her, just not the right man. There was a big difference. She hadn't been tempted to sleep with anyone because she'd wanted her first time to be special, memorable. Maybe even be forever. She wanted that guy. The one in her romance novels. The one who would kill for her, lay down his life for her, love her for eternity. Epic love that sonnets were written about, not a forgettable one-night-stand.
Do you hear yourself, Tierra? Love like that doesn’t exist. This is not Wuthering Heights, it's Port Townsend. Men like Heathcliff or Mr. Darcy are stuff of fiction.
If she could, she'd conjure up a man who was part Mr. Darcy and Heathcliff. Now that would be a man worth sleeping with.
You've really lost it now.
Tierra turned on Water Street. The Puget Sound came into view catching her breath like it always did. She loved living by the ocean. While she didn't love being on it, and certainly never in it, the cycle of the ocean and moods she stirred added so much to the nature that whispered around her. It was beautiful.
So unlike the conversation she'd just left. What was it with the word masturbate? It was such an ugly word. She wasn't naïve, and she understood how her body responded, but she didn't talk about such things.
Did that make her a prude?
Ha, an unapproachable prude. She caught her reflection in the storefront windows. A dumpy, unapproachable, prude.
Oh stop. She looked eclectic. No one wore the same clothes she did.
Well, maybe homeless people.
That's enough.
She had no time for this. There was plenty to worry about with Horsemen trying to kill them, Aunt Justine and Moira trying to kill each other, and supposedly the end of the world drawing near.
Did it really matter what she wore or that she was still a virgin?
She liked her clothes, but hated that she was twenty-six and didn't know how it felt to have a man inside her, giving over a little of his soul when he lost himself inside her.
The magic and power that her sisters spoke of, what would it be like? She wanted to experience that.
So what was she waiting for? It was just a hymen for goddess's sake. She was an earth witch. And if the end of the world was coming, no way in hell was she dying a virgin.
41
“Morning, T,” Sunny greeted when Tierra entered Ambrosia's. “Glad to see you doing well. Heard there was a wicked storm out your way last night. Everyone okay?”
“Everyone's fine, but the house took some damage. The…girls are taking it upon themselves to make calls.”
“You don't sound too