Page 16 of Enchanting the Alpha

“That sweater is adorable!”

“That sweater makes you look like you’ve been attacked by a tribe of drunken pixies.” She stood to examine the other options. “You need something that says ‘I’m a powerful witch who could charm you senseless but chooses not to because I’m classy like that.’“

Romi laughed, some of her nervousness easing. “Is that a common fashion category?”

“It is now.” Clover pulled a flowing sundress from the array. “This one. The color brings out your eyes, and the magical shimmer effect is subtle enough to be intriguing without being overwhelming.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“Hardly.” Clover flopped back onto her cushion. “The most exciting thing in my love life is that new delivery guy from The Arcane Brewpub who always spells my name wrong on the receipts. I’m living vicariously through you and your sexy alpha.”

“He’s not my alpha.”

“Yet.” Clover wiggled her eyebrows. “Give it time.”

After Clover left, Romi stood at her bedroom window watching magical lanterns dance above the darkened streets. Her coffee cup tattoo hummed softly.

“What do you think?” she asked Whiskers, who had claimed his favorite spot on her pillow. “Am I being too cautious or not cautious enough?”

He responded by puffing another heart-shaped smoke ring, this one trailing sparkles that formed the word “Yes.”

“That’s not helpful.” But she smiled, reaching out to scratch behind his ears. “Though I suppose some questions don’t have simple answers.”

She thought of Xabir’s almost-smiles, the way his alpha energy made her magic sing, how he managed to be both intimidating and oddly sweet at the same time. Maybe Clover was right. Maybe it was okay to be both scared and excited, to want to be careful but also want to see where this could lead.

Tomorrow would be interesting, to say the least.

Whiskers sneezed in his sleep, accidentally setting her curtains on fire.

“A metaphor for my love life,” Romi muttered as she extinguished the flames. “Potentially destructive but somehow still endearing.”

She went to bed dreaming of hazel eyes and almost-smiles, her magic humming contentedly beneath her skin like it knew something she didn’t.

EIGHTEEN

Morning sunlight painted Bacon & Eggs in shades of gold, making the enchanted window displays shimmer. Romi’s heart skipped as she spotted Xabir waiting outside, his usual suit replaced by dark jeans and a fitted sweater that did wonderful things for his shoulders. Her magic hummed appreciatively, remembering how those shoulders had felt under her hands when they’d briefly danced in the café.

“You’re early,” she said, fighting a grin as his eyes darkened at the sight of her in the dress Clover had chosen. His gaze traced her figure slowly, making her skin tingle.

“You’re beautiful.” The words came out in that deep rumble that never failed to make her pulse race. A faint flush colored his cheeks, making him look younger, almost vulnerable.

Romi’s breath caught. Seeing the composed alpha flustered made her feel oddly powerful. “Careful. Keep throwing around compliments like that and I might start to think you actually like me.”

“That would be... accurate.” His voice dropped lower as he stepped closer, his alpha energy wrapping around her like a caress.

Inside, they were led to a cozy booth where enchanted flowers bloomed in time with their conversation. Their knees brushed under the table, sending sparks of awareness through her body. Every time she glanced up, she caught him watching her with an intensity that made her magic flutter.

“The stuffed French toast is magical today,” their server told them with a wink. “Literally. Each bite tastes like your favorite childhood memory.”

“That sounds amazing,” Romi said. “Though potentially dangerous. My childhood memories involve a lot of experimental potions gone wrong.”

“I’ll risk it,” Xabir said, that almost-smile playing at his lips. His foot hooked around her ankle under the table, the casual possessiveness of the gesture making her breath hitch.

Their breakfast arrived floating on sparkly clouds, accompanied by coffee that changed flavors based on their mood. Romi discovered her French toast tasted like her mother’s apple pie, summer afternoons in the garden, and the first time she successfully cast a spell. Though she noticed her coffee had taken on notes of spice and heat that had nothing to do with childhood memories and everything to do with the way Xabir’s thumb was tracing circles on her wrist.

“What do you taste?” she asked, her voice slightly breathless.

“My father teaching me to shift.” His expression softened with memory, though his eyes remained heated when they met hers. “Running through the forest together under a full moon.”

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