Page 37 of Captivating Magic

Had Castor’s ability altered the norm? What would that mean for her if she crossed? It bore consideration.

“On another note”—he leaned close to whisper into the shell of her ear—“do Ireallytaste like shoe leather?”

She giggled. “You taste like cotton-candy cupcakes with rainbow sprinkles. My favorite.”

“Whew! I was worried my toothpaste wasn’t doing the trick.”

“I’d have stopped you at the first kiss if your breath stunk,” she assured him.

“Good to know.” Biting her earlobe, he chuckled. “How about we drive the pig-fucker over the edge by making out?”

“Mm. Idolove the way you think!”

15

They were halted by the arrival of Alastair and Castor. Laszlo told himself the interruption was fortunate because crossing into necrophilia territory was frowned upon. Debating the pros and cons of feeling up a ghost or obsessing about how Ebba’s body—physical and spirit—was built for hot, monkey sex would find Lo in hot water. Fast! He was quickly becoming addicted to touching her, and it didn’t bode well for him.

“Did your friend have a suggestion for stopping Death, Al?”

“You can ask him yourself. He’ll be arriving momentarily.”

“This is becoming quite the party,” Castor said as he flopped on the couch. “Why are there no hors d’oeuvres? Isn’t that what you call those little finger sandwiches?”

“I’m a terrible hostess,” Spirit Ebba quipped as she jumped up to perch on the counter.

“Why does she do that?” he asked, nodding at the distance she’d placed between her and their group.

Lo was slow on the uptake, but when the truth dawned, he couldn’t believe he’d never seen it before. Looking back, he recalled Ebba had always kept to the outskirts of gatherings their entire lives. At every function of four or more, she’d drifted offto sit alone, and Laszlo was ashamed her crowd discomfort had never registered.

“I’m an asshole,” he muttered, shaking his head.

Castor grinned his agreement. “No argument here.”

Flipping him the bird, Lo joined Ebba.

“I owe you an apology, Sweet.”

“For what?” Her brows drew together in adorable confusion, and using his thumb, he smoothed the indention they created with light, caressing strokes.

“For being insensitive to your hatred of large groups.”

“Oh!” She laughed and batted his hand away. “You couldn’t have known. Besides, I don’t hate crowds. I just don’t fit in.”

“I believe it’s called social awkwardness,” he replied, toying with a corkscrew lock of her espresso-colored hair. He marveled at the silky feel beneath his fingers. How was it possible she felt so alive?

“I know what it’s called, Lo.”

“Don’t roll those gorgeous eyes at me, woman.” He grinned, appreciating the hell out of her sass. In all the years they’d been acquainted, she’d never backed down when teased and always gave it right back. Which was doubly impressive when he thought about it, considering many people became tongue-tied when addressing their crush.

Pitching his tone in the suggestive zone, he said, “When we’re alone again, I want to hear about all the ways you fantasized about the two of us.”

Her gasp was his reward for shocking her, but she recovered in a flash. “Who said I fantasized about you at all?”

“Didn’t you?”

The answer was there, in her smoldering gaze, and the horror he felt from his immediate arousal caused him to step away from her and into the kitchen to hide his body’s reaction.

Jesus!

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