Page 50 of Captivating Magic

“Lo?” Her voice was faint, and she struggled to stay alert. “Why?—”

Firm hands hauled her away and across the room. She was as stunned as Laszlo, based on his slack-jawed expression.

“Sorry to interrupt, but that globe you’re holding just came to life,” Castor said. “It’s glowing.”

“Fuck!”

Ebba’s knees buckled, and she was grateful for the strength of Castor’s embrace. “I feel like I’m going to vomit.”

Retching noises filled the room, and she peered out the door at Spencer.

“Turn him on his side,” Damian ordered.

“No! The doll!” Lo rushed forward.

“It’s secure,” Alastair assured him, pressing it in place.

A second wave of dizziness assailed her, and Ebba swayed.

“I’ve got you, love.” In a smooth, novel-hero move, Castor swept her into his arms and carried her to the living room. He laid her on the couch and, from thin air, produced a cool washcloth for her brow. If her heart didn’t already belong to Laszlo, she’d have fallen for the blond, godlike man leaning over her.

“You’re dangerous,” she said in a low voice.

His brows shot up, but then he grinned. “Not to you.”

“Especially to me. To any woman in your general vicinity.”

“I’ll remind you of this when I save you from Death’s dooragain.”

Ebba tsked. “Sorry, but my memory will be wiped. I won’t remember your roguish smile or your gentlemanly way of rescuing damsels in distress.”

With a laugh, he rose. “I’ll have to arrange a proper meeting. Preferably at a time before you lose your heart to that one.” He jabbed a thumb in Laszlo’s direction.

“Christ, I can’t leave you two alone for a second,” Lo complained as he crossed to them. “Flirt, flirt, flirt.”

“It keeps you on your toes, babe.” She smiled at him and was pleased to see his grin. “You, I will remember,” she promised.

“I’m counting on it. But if not, we’ll make new memories.”

The globe lit again, and Ebba curled into a ball as a wave of nausea struck. Pain pierced her abdomen, causing her to cry out.

Spencer resumed retching.

“Back up, man!” Castor snapped. “Whatever punch that thing is packing, it’s lethal to her.”

Lo dashed to the kitchen, and the loud slamming of cabinets jolted her from her misery curl.

“What the hell is he doing?” she croaked.

“Filling a pot with water.” Castor appeared confused, but then he grinned. “Clever.”

“What is? What’s clever?”

“He immersed it in water and shoved it in the oven with a lid on the pan. It’s his way of getting it as far away from you as possible without throwing it out the window.”

And it appeared to be working. Spencer had stopped dry heaving, and Ebba’s pain receded, leaving behind a clammy sensation.

She sat up and pressed her thumbs to her eye sockets, then inhaled deeply, attempting to regain her composure. Her reaction to the pain was cringy, but at least she hadn’t tossed up her cookies like Spencer. Although, if the fucking body snatcher was physically feelingherpain, it would make sense that he had. Still, she hated to give him any grace.

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