Page 39 of Enchanting the Alpha

“I could fix that if I focused more.” Romi straightened her spine. “Maybe if I tried those grounding exercises again?—”

“Or,” Neve interrupted, “you could stop fighting what your heart already knows.”

Romi’s hands twisted in her lap. “I’m not fighting anything. Xabir and I are perfect as we are. He’s incredible and protective and surprisingly funny, and yes, maybe sometimes I think about waking up to that rare smile every morning, or how our magic fits together like it was meant to, or how he looks at me like I’m the only person in the world who matters, but that doesn’t mean?—”

She broke off as her magic created a cascade of shooting stars that spelled out “I love Xabir” in swooping silver script.

“Traitor,” she muttered at her own hands.

“Your magic isn’t betraying you,” Madame Zephyrine said softly. “It’s trying to tell you what you already know.”

“But what if—” Romi’s voice caught. “What if it changes everything?”

“Oh, my dear.” Neve reached over to squeeze her hand. “It already has. The only question is whether you’ll let yourself embrace that change.”

“I’m not ready,” Romi whispered. “Not yet.”

“Then perhaps start with something smaller.” Madame Zephyrine waved her hand, transforming one of Romi’s magical sparkles into a tiny key. “Like those magic classes you mentioned. A way to channel your energy while bringing witches and shifters together.”

Romi seized on the change of subject with relief. “Yes! Classes. Teaching. Much safer topic.” She took a steadying breath. “I was thinking of starting with basic protection spells.Though given my current track record, we might end up with singing shields for everyone.”

“The community could use more music,” Neve said with a smile. “And more love.”

“Can we go back to discussing the singing shields?”

“Running from your feelings won’t make them disappear,” Madame Zephyrine noted. “Though I must say, your avoidance techniques are getting more creative.”

“I prefer to think of it as strategic emotional planning,” Romi said primly, though her magic chose that moment to create a tiny wolf made of starlight that prowled across her teacup.

“Of course.” Neve’s eyes sparkled. “Well, when you’re done with your ‘strategic planning’, perhaps consider that accepting love isn’t nearly as frightening as denying it.”

“You’re both horrible.” But Romi couldn’t quite hide her smile. “I don’t suppose you have any actual advice about the magic classes?”

“Start small, be patient with yourself, and maybe warn your students that spontaneous musical numbers are a possibility,” Madame Zephyrine suggested. “Oh, and perhaps mention to a certain alpha that you’re looking for volunteers to help demonstrate witch-shifter magical interactions.”

“Now you’re just being mean.” But Romi’s magic sparked happily at the thought of Xabir attending her classes, creating little bursts of silver light that danced like fireflies.

“Your magic knows what it wants,” Neve said softly. “The question is when will you let yourself want it too?”

Romi stood, brushing off her skirt to hide how those words hit home. “Right, well, this has been delightfully mortifying. I should probably get back to the café before my magic decides to redecorate in Xabir’s favorite colors again.”

“Did that happen?” Madame Zephyrine asked with interest.

“No comment.” Romi headed for the door before they could see her blush. “Thanks for the tea and the extremely unsubtle relationship advice.”

“Any time, dear one.” Neve’s voice followed her out. “Though perhaps next time bring Xabir. I’d love to see how your magic behaves when he’s actually present instead of just in your thoughts.”

“Leaving now!” Romi called over her shoulder, though her magic left a trail of heart-shaped sparkles in her wake.

She had a café to run, classes to plan, and absolutely no time to think about how right the elder witches might be about her feelings for a certain incredibly attractive, unfairly perfect alpha.

Her magic, naturally, chose that moment to create a perfect illusion of Xabir’s smile in the air before her.

“Oh, shut up,” she told it fondly and headed back to work.

FORTY

Romi’s cottage glowed with warmth against the deepening twilight, enchanted lanterns bobbing gently along the garden path. She adjusted a sprig of lavender in the crystal vase, its subtle magic mingling with the aroma of herbs simmering on the stove.

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