Glimmer, who’d been coiled on top of the bookshelf observing the proceedings, hissed softly at the mention of Leo.
“She’s still mad about it,” Junie added. “Whatever ‘it’ is.”
Avine and Narla exchanged another look. Dahlia had stopped arranging the cheeseboard and was watching with unusual intensity. Even Cassia had gone quiet, her storm petrel ruffling its feathers.
“What?” Junie looked between them. “Why are you all doing the significant eye contact thing?”
“It sounds like classic mate recognition,” Avine said quietly.
The words landed like stones in still water.
Junie laughed. The sound came out too sharp, too brittle. “That’s—no. That’s not possible. He’s a lion shifter. I’m a witch. That’s not how it works.”
“Says who?” Cassia leaned forward. “Theo’s a wolf, and Avine’s a witch. They managed.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
Junie struggled for words. “It just is. Theo and Avine—that made sense. They had history. They had chemistry. They had?—”
“Explosive arguments and stubborn denial?” Dahlia’s voice was deceptively mild. “Because from where I was standing, that’s exactly what you and the lion alpha have.”
“We’ve known each other for two days!”
“Mate recognition doesn’t care about timelines.” Narla set down her wine glass and reached into her bag. She produced a small candle—one of her creations, Junie recognized, designed to reveal emotional truths. “May I?”
“May you what?”
“A small demonstration.” Narla placed the candle on the coffee table and lit it with a whispered word. The flame flickered to life, burning a calm, neutral white. “Tell me about your day. What you worked on. How the potions went.”
Junie frowned but played along. “I tried to make Mrs. Watters’s arthritis tincture. It went sentient. Again. The ley line was acting up all morning?—”
The candle flame stayed white. Steady.
“Good,” Narla said. “Now. Tell me about Leo Castellan.”
“I don’t?—”
“Just his name. Say his name and tell me one thing about him.”
Junie huffed. “Fine. Leo Castellan has nice forearms. There. Happy?”
The candle flame blazed orange. Deep, vivid, unmistakable orange—the color of attraction, desire, heat. It flickered and danced, throwing gold light across the walls of Junie’s apartment.
“Oh,” said Cassia, delighted. “That’s pretty.”
“It’s mortifying, is what it is.” Junie stared at the flame like it had personally betrayed her. “That doesn’t prove anything. He’s objectively attractive. Anyone would—the candle would do that for anyone who’s?—”
“It really wouldn’t.” Dahlia’s voice was gentle. “I’ve seen Narla’s candles react to attraction before. It’s usually pink. Soft. This is…” She gestured at the blazing orange. “Significantly more intense.”
“Say his name again,” Narla suggested.
“Leo.”
The flame flared brighter. Orange deepening to red at the edges.
“That’s not simply attraction.” Narla’s voice was calm, unsurprised. “That’s the beginning of a bond. Something much more significant.”
