Page 38 of Bewitched By the Djinn
His head dips toward me. He smells like soap and warmth and rich, hot summer nights laced with jasmine.
“We could try that whole shared intentions thing.”
His eyes search mine. “Are you sure? You may have to lower your mental shields for us to connect on that level.”
I spread my fingers on the table. “I can’t say I like it, but do you have any other ideas? This guy only takes payment in magic, and our magic is stuck.”
His jaw flexes. “I understand. But perhaps we can intend for the magic to come from me and not you.”
The protectiveness radiating off him is not hot at all. Nope.
I shiver, but only because it’s cold.
“Fine.” Turning back to Edward, I clap my hands, rubbing them together. “Okay, Eddie boy. Let’s try this again.”
Chapter
Eleven
I extend my hand to the vamp again, my mind racing. Intentions, shared intentions, what the fuck does it even mean?
Bennet puts his hand over mine, and then Edward reaches for us, fingers covering ours.
I drop my mental shields, despite the fear coursing through me of being that vulnerable. Like a turtle without a shell.
But then . . . nothing.
No spark, no jolt, no ancient well of power springing free. No choir of angels bursting out of the heavens. Just three idiots holding hands across a café table like we’re in a throuple.
I glance sideways at Bennet. “Is this doing anything for you?”
His brow creases. “It should be.” He shifts, angling his palm more fully over mine. “You must focus.”
“I am focusing.”
“Don’t force it. Just focus on what we need our magic to do and let go.”
“Let go of what, exactly?” The tenuous thread on my sanity? But I shut my eyes anyway.Let go. Let go.
Let go of fear. Of doubt. Of trying to control it.
A beat passes. Another.
Then there’s a pinch and a tug, a release, like a clogged drain suddenly breaking free. Magic flows into me, molten and hot, causing a cascade of warmth.
It’s hard to concentrate. And suddenly, Bennet is there, in my mind, like smoke rising through cracks, he’s all around me. His emotions swirl with mine, heat meeting with heat, until I can’t tell where his end and mine begin.
Wonder.
Surprise.
Confusion.
Fear.
Arousal.
A deep longing, raw and unshaped, slipping through my fingers before I can take hold of it.
