Page 8 of Bonded to the Beast

Nope.

I run my finger down the page. There are two distinct passages in print. Overall, I haven’t the foggiest idea what language this spell is written in. It’s like a mish-mosh of a few different recognizable languages and then some random letters thrown in for good measure. I recognize ‘cuore’— ‘heart’ in Italian—and obviously ‘amor’ is love, but ‘tiernyg’ and ‘druggul’? Even a quick a Google translate comes up with nothing.

The passages aren’t translated like the name of the spell, but the first one has the word ‘manifest’ scrawled next to it. The second one is starred, marked as ‘promise’.

Interesting. Very interesting.

I tap the page. My fingernail underlines the instructions.

I’m thirty-four. Too old to believe in fairy tales and happy endings, especially when my Prince Charming turned out to be a two-timing villain. I should know better than to think magic is real, or to believe that I can read some foreign words and I might actually manifest my true love.

Then again, thirty-four isn’tthatold. I still watch cartoons a lot of the time because they’re fun, and my favorite dinner is a bowl of Cheerios with milk and sliced bananas when I don’t feel like cooking. I might not believe in fairy tales, but I’ve held out hope that the “one” for me might be out there somewhere.

Maybe I just need to do a little magic of my own first to find him.

Yellow chalk, huh? If I’m going to attempt this—and, for some reason, I have this feeling like I’msupposedto—I need chalk. Salt, I have, but chalk?

Hmm.

* * *

The only storeI could hit along Main Street before it closed was the local dollar store. It didn’t have any colored chalk, though. Just packs of white.

I bought one, and a small thing of salt in case my kitchen was low on the stuff. It might not be perfect, but I figure it’s close enough.

Because I don’t have the yellow chalk, I take a lot of care copying the sigils in the book to create the protective circle that’s on the page. I end up using my bedroom floor to draw with the chalk and sprinkle the salt. It made sense. My apartment has hardwood floors, though the living room has a rug stretching across it. It was either the bedroom or the kitchen, and… I don’t know. True love. Bedroom. It just seemed right.

By the time I’m done, my knees are killing me for all the kneeling and crawling around I did. I ended up running out of salt and using most of the extra container I bought before the circle was complete.

That done, I get to my feet, brushing my chalky, salty hands off on my skirt as I eye my handiwork.

Looks good, I decide, then turn back to the book.

The spell seems simple enough. Once the protective circle is done, my next step is to read the first passage.

That part is not so simple.

I stumble over the foreign words, getting frustrated when I’m not sure how to pronounce them, but I do it and—

—absolutely nothing happens.

I wait a couple of seconds, glancing around the room as if expecting someone tall, dark, and handsome to suddenly appear in the middle of the bedroom. Nope. For good measure, I read the first passage again, in case my pronunciation was so bad, I messed up the spell.

Still nothing.

Just like I should have expected.

Snorting, I slam the book closed. My fault for getting my hopes up, as though the gibberish I read would actually do anything. I don’t really know what I thought would happen, but whatever it was, it probably wasn’t worth the mess I’m going to have to clean up now.

As I leave my room again, heading out to grab my dustpan and broom—and a wet rag to mop up the chalk—I have to shake my head.

Who knows? Maybe I should have waited until I had some yellow chalk after all.

CHAPTER3

HUNT

LOKI

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