Page 93 of Captivating Magic

“You looked too peaceful. I almost climbed in, but then I remembered your boyfriend’s threat of castration if I went within an inch of you.” He scrubbed his hands over his face and gave her a lopsided grin. “I’m going to conjure coffee. Want some?”

“I’d love a cup.”

He rose, stretching and displaying the perfectly sculpted muscles of his expansive chest.

Her eyes developed a will of their own and refused to look away. If he called her out, she’d blame Kyrella and her base urge to mate.

“Not cool, Ebba.”

“Sorry, Ky. A girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do.”

“And that means eye-fucking the Traveler?”

“I’m not?—”

“Sure, keep lying to yourself,”the wolf scoffed.

“Shut up.”

Kyrella’s silent amusement came through as loud as her voice.

“Where’s Lo?” Ebba blurted, ripping her eyes away as he wrapped the blanket around his hips. With his muscled thighs exposed, it was apparent he wasn’t wearing pants. Her brain was playing the guessing game of boxers or briefs.

Blue eyes dancing, he strutted toward her, laughing when she gulped. “I won’t tell him you find me attractive, but you might want to work on your poker face when he’s around.”

“Shut up and conjure that coffee already,” she ordered, climbing onto the island and bracing her back against the wall.

“You like being up high?”

“I must’ve been a cat in a previous life,” she said, smiling as Kyrella growled.

“How do you want it, love?”

For one heart-stopping moment, she thought he meant sex.

“Mind out of the gutter!”she scolded herself.

“At this point, I’m enjoying the show,”her wolf replied.

“Ebba?”

She shook her head, attempting to focus on Castor. “Sorry.”

“No problem. Sugar? Cream?”

“Just a dash of the vanilla creamer in the fridge, please.”

As if her ghostly self still existed, the refrigerator door opened, and the container floated through the air before settling on the counter beside the mugs.

“Did you do that?” she asked in awe.

He chuckled. “Yeah, I’m lazy in the mornings. I prefer to conjure breakfast in bed and feed tempting morsels to my partner rather than expend the energy on other, less-interesting tasks.”

As she sipped her coffee, she considered the scenarios for why Castor might sleep over. He’d mentioned babysitting, and she suspected he meant her.

“Where did Laszlo go, and why?”

“To testify at Spencer Barlowe’s tribunal.” Castor held his hand over an empty platter and produced a heaping mound of bacon, cooked to perfection. Not one limp or burnt slice in the batch! Next, he formed a U with his hands, and from the flat of his palms sprung a wicker basket full of steaming muffins. “I hope you like blueberry. If you prefer another kind...”

---