Page 68 of Captivating Magic

Fucking fantastic!

He fought a smile, and she wanted Death to simply take her at this point and end her suffering.

“Power is to be collected,” Isis said. “When you are done, Aether, transfer it equally to the amulets.”

“Mr. Barlowe’s, I’m assuming?” Dethridge asked though it sounded more like a statement of fact.

Her nod confirmed his question, and with one last considering glance at Ebba and Laszlo, the Aether did as she bid.

“I don’t understand,” Ebba said to Laszlo. Her mind was officially blown. Goddesses, Death, two Laszlos, gorgeous men who appeared from thin air. It was all like a fantasy novel or chaotic movie script. These things didn’t happen in the real world. “What power? What’s she talking about?”

“I come from a long line of witches?—”

“My line,” Isis said, interrupting him. “And magic does exist, my dear. Mr. Barlowe is descended from my brother and, like him, feels he can do whatever he wants. Including persuading women that they are attracted to him. Yet you, for any number of interesting reasons, were not.”

Ebba didn’t want to admit aloud she’d been in love with Laszlo since childhood. Somehow, she suspected the Goddessknew, and she didn’t want to voice it in front of her lifelong crush.

“There’s no getting between fated mates,” Castor said. “Believe me, I’d have stolen Damian’s love years ago if that was the case.”

The Aether snorted. “My wife would chew you up and spit you out before breakfast, Alex.”

Castor grinned. “Yeah, but what a ride!”

Instead of displaying jealousy or anger, Damian laughed. “I’ll be sure to let Viv know you’re lusting over her.”

“She knows,” Death said with an eye roll. “Alex can’t keep it in his pants.”

“Ouch.” Castor placed his hands over his heart. “I’m wounded.”

Her laughter was surprising. “Doubtful, darling.”

“I agree. It’s unlikely,” the Aether replied, reaching into the car.

Ebba didn’t want to consider the idea of fated mates, the relevancy to her situation, or why Castor had brought it up. She was too fascinated with Damian Dethridge and his power-removal process.

It took less than a minute, and her letdown was great. “I thought there would be more to it than him placing his hands on Spencer’s head and chest,” she said to Laszlo.

“He’s the balance between good and evil in the witch community, and he’s been around as long as I can remember. I imagine he doesn’t break a sweat over these things.”

“He doesn’t age?”

Laszlo shrugged. “He does, but not at the speed mortals do.”

“What about you?” she asked, her curiosity about his claim subduing her fear of the present situation.

“I’m somewhere in between.”

Castor, who had been standing guard over Ebba’s body, stepped aside to allow Damian to infuse the necklace with the reclaimed power.

With a questioning glance at the Goddess, the Aether knelt and pressed a hand to Ebba’s forehead. The other, he placed about five inches above her chest. A green ball formed in his palm and shot strands of light into her wounds. Her body finished knitting back together. The ribs eased from her lungs, and the tissue reattached, pinkening to a healthy color. Her heart took the longest, but eventually, it appeared whole. New skin grew from damaged old, covering her organs.

“Can he do that for the wolf, too?” she asked, hopeful he could and would.

“Bring the animal and place it beside the girl’s body,” Isis directed Laszlo.

With a respectful nod, he jumped into action, skidding down the side of the ditch to retrieve the wolf. Its spirit followed him like a faithful companion with her tongue lolling on the side of her mouth as she stared at him with adoration.

Ebba understood the urge.

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