Page 34 of His Wicked Spell

“Glinda,” she says, sweeping up to Evangeline, hugging her close with a grin, “we’ve been separated far too long.”

Evangeline giggles instantly charm the “Wicked Witch.”

They laugh together like they’ve known each other for years, but this is the first time they’ve met as far as I know. Moving in protectively, I’m standing next to Evangeline, stiff, hovering like a guard dog.

But when the witch turns her head and those green eyes land on me … something hits my chest. Hard.

For a second, I forget my duty. Forget the people in the room. Forget Dante’s rules, the cameras, the danger.

The witch is still smiling. She’s playful and unafraid, her voice lilting when she says, “And who are you supposed to be? The Tin Man?” she asks mockingly, indicating the stiff, almost military stance I’ve taken.

I should look away and shake it off. But I don’t. I don’t say a word.

In that moment, there is one thing I know with absolute certainty:

This wicked witch just put a spell on me.

And Luca Romano doesn’t believe in magic.

THE END