"It's very tasty," he said. "So creamy… so smooth… it practically melts on the tongue."
Isabella blinked, lips parting in surprise. She hadn't been expecting that. Not from Cyrus, whose words were usually clipped, clean, straight to the point. This wasn't just persuasion—it was borderline teasing.
Her brows arched. "Creamy?" she repeated, trying not to laugh. "Since when do you describe food like that?"
And that—oh, that was the magic touch.
Glimora's ears flicked. A small twitch at first, so small anyone else might have missed it. But Isabella saw. Cyrus saw. Both their eyes zeroed in on it like hawks.
Her ears perked again. Higher this time. Her little nose twitched, whiskers brushing the air, and though her face remained fixed in her glare, her body betrayed her.
"Oh, gods…" Isabella whispered, a laugh bubbling up in her throat. "It's working."
