Spellbound Book Series Novels & Stories

And pity transformed into determination. I would bring him back. No matter the cost. *** She lived at the end of a dirt road, in a house hidden among the shadows of the trees. White hair, yellowed eyes, bony hands covered with rings. “You want to break a blood spell,” she said, without me needing to explain. “It’s almost impossible.” “Almost,” I repeated. “But not entirely.” She studied me for a long moment, her old eyes seeming to read my soul. “A blood spell binds two people. To each other. No matter the distance, no matter the time. They will always find a way back.”

She says. Yep, she’s young and no, she's not stupid. I’m beginning to see that she’s wise beyond her years. Rich asks her questions about the spell and how it is cast. She answers his questions, giving him the information he needs. “But there is another way for the spell to cast.” We all focus on her. “If Guardian Emlyn were to reject you and then also break the Guardian bond to you, the spell will cast, even without your rejection. Beta Gwen wanted two possible options to eliminate loopholes in the spell.”

he asked mockingly. "Xavier, how is it possible?" his aunt's voice instantly put him on alert. Even Sebastian sat up straighter. "What happened?" the Alpha King asked. "The magical spell I had cast on the library, the section that comprises books about our Kind has been breached... by a human girl."

The shadows at the edges of the runes shivered like they were tasting the air for blood, for fear, for dominance. Sierra clenched her fists, fingers grazing the chalk. She whispered the trigger phrase, her voice tight, sharp. A flicker of silver sparked at her fingertips—but it was wilder than usual. The shadows responded instantly, snaking higher, twisting faster than she expected. Her anger, her jealousy, her protectiveness over Malick—it all fed the spell, amplifying it beyond the controlled parameters she’d intended.

Each with flesh inside however, one piece of flesh is clearly a lot bigger than the others and when Christie looks at me confused I simply tell her that I wanted him to feel extra pain. The elder takes us into his backyard and what he has set out looks a little bit like a seance with an altar in the middle. It’s not what I expected, however I do have a good feeling about what I am trying to do. I pull out the spell book that I have been putting together with a few spells from the archives and a couple of small spells that I have made up myself then I turn to the page that I hope will break their mate bond and although it’s a spell, I have made up. It also has properties of other spells blend

I whisper. This time, the tears don’t feel like weakness. They feel like healing. Like something finally beginning. ************************ Unspoken Desires - Book 3…. Coming Soon

Everything he did was to keep his child safe. I turned back to my grandma, and she nodded to the house. “Close your eyes. Focus on the spell. The words will come.” I nodded and faced the cabin. Shutting my eyes and turning my entire focus to the spell I was weaving. The statues that had sucked in every drop of Carl’s sacrifice stood as beacons, power overflowing from them. The spell, a net cast over the cabin, was strong, but I could feel the weak spots. The spell was left unfinished, and if left this way, the woven threads would weaken, shredding apart at those weak points.

“Yes, I just wanted to let you know we found one of the answers we were looking for. You had mentioned that you would do your own research, and I didn’t want you to waste time trying to figure out how someone might not know they magic until adulthood when we already figured it out.” I lazily scrolled through the list of books on the computer screen that my search had pulled up. “Oh, splendid! So, let’s see then, you’re still wanting to find out how to prove who cast a fake mate bond spell and how to reverse it?” “That’s right.” A title in my list caught my attention: Crowns of Shame – A Complete History. “Alright, thank you for letting me know. I have to attend to some runaway sheep now, but

Not the peace bought by victory, but the peace that comes after surrender, not to another’s will, but to the truth of endings. Elara walked the spire’s winding stairs alone. There was no summoning bell, no royal guards, no whispers of intrigue or rivalry. The throne room, once a place of terror and hope, had been remade: no seat of power, just shelves of memory, old banners folded in shadow, records written in every tongue. The only throne that remained was a low desk, shaped of moonstone and scales, empty except for a single, blank book. She touched its cover. The book hummed with latent power, woven through by the spells of a hundred different hands: witches, vampires, wolves, and mortals.