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“I’m staying.” I wouldn’t be able to leave her even if she wasn’t going to dream-walk.

“Okay.” She smiles. “Will you help with the spells?”

“If you'd like.”

She bounces up. “My magic likes yours, so it will accept your will.” She holds out her hand. “I’ll start with the front door.” She wiggles her fingers, and I take her hand.

I follow her through the house, curious about her process. Every witch and warlock is different. Our spells are personal. We don’t read words from a book, and the dialogue may change with each spell. She releases me as we stop at the front door. Taking a deep breath, she lifts her palm, pressing it against the wood. Savy’s magic is white, and as she engages the spell, it sparks underneath her hand.

She moves her mouth, yet she doesn’t say her spell out loud. I stare at her serene face and enjoy the warmth she emanates. Her magic is fluid and flows easily at her command. She moves her hand in slow circles over the door, slowly widening the circle until she covers the entire door. The magicked can see the spell of one of their own kind, but I’ve only been able to see Rome’s clearly. Savy is the only other person whose magic shows brightly to me. The entrance glows with her spell, solid and powerful.

“Beautiful, Savy,” I say gruffly.

“Thanks.” She brushes her fingers down my arm. “Will you finish down here? I’ll go upstairs.”

“Yes,” I reply, and she smiles.

I watch her walk away.

It’s a big deal. Her trust in me. A magicked’s home is personal. I’m honored that she would allow me to use my spells to protect us.

I move to the door beyond the living room, steady myself, and lift both hands. Even though my spells manifest as black smoke, it doesn’t mean they're dark. The colors may symbolize the strength of power, or the time they have practiced. We can see auras, which are different from mist, and the color black has a different significance, such as pain, evil, or guilt.

Protect my bond. Keep out all with evil intentions. Warn the spells if anyone approaches. Only good can enter, never bad. I press both palms against the door before trailing them up, separating my hands. I travel over the frame, down the sides, and across the bottom. To seal my spell, I lock it where I started. Satisfied, I step back and catch a glimpse of Savy returning.

“I’ll get ready for bed,” she informs me, and walks behind the stairs.

Instead of thinking about her taking her clothes off, I move to the windows and repeat my spells. Her home soaks them up, easily accepting another’s magic, and it moves me. I’ve often thought no one could match me. Our personalities are vastly different, yet she balances my dark.

I move slowly toward her bedroom. The door is open, but I still knock lightly.

“Savy.”

“I’ll be out in a minute,” she calls.

“Take your time.”

Shoving my hands in my pockets, I enter the room and get my first look at her space. The large bed dominates the room in the center. It matches the wood throughout the house. I assumed it would be decorated in bright colors, but the fluffy blankets are black. The dresser, side tables, and chair are dark wood. She has a stack of books on the floor by the chair, and random clothes draped over the back of it. The bathroom door is on the left, and another door is down from it. I stop at the large windows on the right. The gray curtains are slightly open, and I curl my finger around the edge of the fabric, looking outside.

Savy steps into the room. I drop my hand and turn. My body responds.

“I don’t have pajamas big enough for you,” she says, brushing her hand down her stomach.

“I don’t wear them,” I rumble, and she rolls her eyes to the side, smiling slightly. I have the urge to laugh. I swear she's picturing me naked.

“Mmm…” She bites her lip.

Definitely picturing it.

“Savy,” I chuckle.

“Yeah.” She focuses on my face.

“Don’t worry about me.” I lift my hand and motion toward her body. “I like yours.”

She’s wearing a red onesie covered in white flowers. The little straps holding it on her body would be easy to drag down her arms. Buttons start at her breasts and stop at her hips; the top two are unbuttoned. It’s sexier than any scrap of lace or silk. Since we met, I’ve wanted to see her hair down. It flows to her waist, wavy and thick.

“I debated the whole time doing my spells.” She puts her hands on her hips. “I thought about wearing the one negligee I own, but I decided not to put on a show. This is me. I like to be comfortable.”