Page 15 of Captivating Magic

Despite the Thornes’ “only love once” blessing—or curse, depending on who one was mated with—Alastair was damned if he’d allow a family member’s suffering to continue. Buying off Charlotte was easy. The woman ate, breathed, and shit money. If an item wasn’t diamond-encrusted, she’d turn up her nose and dismiss it. Her money-hungry personality wouldn’t allow her to forego his offer of one million per year for life. A life that wouldn’t be long, according to Isis.

Interestingly, for a man in love, Laszlo hadn’t objected to her leaving and seemed profoundly relieved. His cousin’s lack of caring cemented Alastair’s certainty he’d done the right thing.

The new development with Ebba interested him on many levels. But the main one consisted of Laszlo coming to life whenever she was in his general vicinity. His gaze would follow her, and the depressing gray his aura had developed throughout his marriage would disappear. His cousin hadn’t woken to the truth yet, but he loved the girl. Ebba, not Charlotte, was Laszlo’s true soulmate.

The problem, as Alastair saw it, was the woman’s reticence. The push and pull of her emotions fluctuated as if she were suppressing them on purpose—or somebody else was.

“Tell me about this boyfriend of hers who died,” he said to Laszlo. “What do you know of him?”

“Not much. I’d heard in passing from Liz that Ebba was seeing someone, but I didn’t know who.” Laszlo’s mouth turned down at the corners, and a strong wave of annoyance rolled off him as if the idea of Ebba dating another bothered him.

Good.

The information worked in Alastair’s favor. Now, if he could keep Castor from mucking things up, he’d have these two kids together in no time. His wife, Rorie, would get a kick out of him dusting off his matchmaking hat and likely insist on helping.

“What has you thinking so hard, Al?” Castor asked him with a knowing sparkle. “I recognize that look, but I’d like it confirmed.”

“Worry about your own affairs, Alexander.”

“Oh! It must be serious if you’re using my full name.”

“Sod off.” That expletive was the closest he could produce without calling down locusts on their small town, though there were many times a stronger sentiment would’ve been nice.

Castor laughed, and Alastair was hard-pressed not to join in. They had been friends for over half a century, and their children were joined in marriage, making them family forever. Around mid-thirties, the aging process for magical beings slows to a crawl, and Castor appeared little older than his son, Quentin. Of course, Alex took advantage of his good looks and used them to their fullest in his quest to seduce the entire female population. The exceptions were the Thorne women. The unspoken rule was they were off-limits. He’d be sure to add Ebba James to the list.

“If you’re concocting a scheme, and here I have no doubt you are, Al, I’d like to be privy to the details,” Laszlo said with a determined look. “I’ve known Ebba since we were children, and I’m determined nothing’s happening to her on my watch.”

“Isn’t he darling?” Castor taunted, folding his hand over his heart and batting his lashes. “It’s like he’s in love or something.”

None of them saw the melamine flower vase until it struck his forehead. Silk rose buds littered the sofa around them, and the sheer shock on Castor’s face sent Alastair off in peals of laughter. Tears streamed from the corners of his eyes, and he held his ribs as he struggled to draw a breath.

Laszlo chortled his glee. “Well done, Spirit Ebba!”

The apartment lights flickered in what Alastair could only assume was her acknowledgment of Lo’s praise.

“I guess I should’ve warned you. She has a vicious temper and hates to be mocked,” Lo told Castor, adding a tsk-tsk to the mix.

Color crept up his friend’s neck, and Alastair placed a restraining hand on his arm. “Let it go, Alex. You started it.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve got somewhere to be. Have fun with the haunting harridan.”

In a blink, he was gone.

“Was it something I said?” Lo’s dancing amber eyes proved his question was far from innocent.

Grinning, Alastair conjured two whisky tumblers and poured them each a dram of his favorite scotch. After handing one off, he tapped his glass to his cousin’s. “Well done. Now, let’s get down to business.”

As her headache dissipated,Ebba eased into a sitting position and hugged a pillow. Why was she resistant to Laszlo’s help in resolving her split-soul issue? She was the one who’d sought him out to take care of the problem. Yet once she’d discovered who was haunting her, she shut that shit down faster than a knife fight in a phone booth.

The logical side of her acknowledged she had a serious situation on her hands, but there was a niggling voice inside her brain urging caution. Whenever she tried to make strides toward resolving things, she received a massive migraine for her troubles.

A knock sounded on the bedroom door.

“Come in.”

No sooner had the words left her mouth than Lo turned the knob and peered into the room. “How are you feeling?”

He made no move to venture forward, and she couldn’t blame him for being gun-shy. Her earlier snottiness had confused her as much as it must’ve confused him.

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