Page 45 of Captivating Magic

She nodded, running her gaze over Castor’s exquisite form. “That explains the perfect looks.”

“Right here, Ebba.” Lo crossed his arms, and a mulish expression settled on his features. “Not cool.”

“I’m done talking to you,” she informed him. “You’re a liar.”

“I didn’t lie,” he ground out.

“You didn’t tell the truth either!”

17

Two hours later, Lo was so damned mad he could drive nails into boards with his bare fists. Ebba’s stubbornness was making him insane.

“You have to talk to me sometime,” he told her.

Her brows shot up, but she remained mute.

“This is childish.” The instant the words left his mouth, he wanted to recall them. Her spiked brows dipped low over narrowed eyes, and she flipped him off. Somewhere behind him, Castor chuckled, and Lo shoved his hands in his pockets to curb the temptation to pass the bird along.

The Aether left for the length of time it took to put his daughter to bed, secure a second Guardian to protect his family in his absence, and return to Ebba’s. After his arrival, Damian gave her a much-needed energy boost, helping her to become solid once more.

Him, she spoke to.

“Will I know when things have changed, or will I simply cease to exist?” she asked.

“You aren’t dying, Ebba,” Lo snapped. “I forbid it!”

Everyone’s attention turned to him.

He grew warm under the men’s laughing looks, but he concentrated on her. “I’m sorry, Sweet. Whenever people say you are, it triggers me.”

“The only thing keeping my body alive is Spencer,” she replied coolly. “I’m already dead, Lo. Face the facts.”

“You haven’t transitioned, and you’re not going to, goddammit!”

His magic, fueled by fear and anger, shoved open the window sashes and brought gale-force winds into the room. Vases and books rocked. Curtains billowed. And pillows rolled along the floor like tumbleweeds.

She turned in a slow circle, taking in the destruction. Wide-eyed, she crossed to him. “Stop, or I’ll have nothing left.”

“What does it matter?” He stood nose to nose with her. “You’re so fucking eager to move on. What does it matter what happens to your material goods?”

“My parents or Liz might want keepsakes,” she retorted, but tears shimmered in her chocolaty eyes, making them appear larger and more tragic than ever.

With a weary sigh, he shoved his power back into its box and pressed his forehead to hers. Infusing his agony into his voice, he said, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she replied in a soft voice.

“It’s not. I was an ass.”

She smiled up at him, and he ceased to breathe. “Maybe a tiny bit of one, but you’re cute, so I’ll let it slide.”

“Can we talk?”

“I thought we were.”

“Funny.” He led the way to the kitchen. When they were isolated from the others, he explained what he’d failed to earlier. “The Aether is correct. I’m a Reaper’s assistant, and not by choice.”

He took her raised brows and curious look as encouragement to continue. “I discovered I could see and speak to the spirits when I turned fourteen. Mom reminded me I had invisible friends as a child, which makes it probable I’ve always had the gift but didn’t understand how to use it, or I subconsciously suppressed it until I got older.”

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