So what I’ll be is a freak, a social outcast, a spawn of Satan.
Stone Maddox can’t say a word. I can’t let him reveal my secret.
But how can I stop him?
Just as I give up hope, a quiet hum fills the room. It’s not coming from the fridge or any other appliance. I rise, searching it out.
Is Stone still outside, humming to destroy my sanity?
Totally possible, but the sound originates from inside the cottage, and it grows as I approach the bookcase.
My gaze drops to the spines lined up in a tidy row. They look normal, butsomethingis vibrating.
Curious, I run my fingers across the leather-bound books, wondering whether I’m going batty. But when my fingers brush the spell book, itthrobs.
I shriek and jerk my hand away.
The spell book.
Its humming intensifies as if it’s not just calling—it’s waiting.
For me.
It wants me to open it. No, that can’t be. Or can it?
Ever so slowly, I reach for it, my hands quaking as they slide the tome from the shelf.
I’ve almost got it out when I change my mind. “No.”
I push the book back in place, but it continues humming. I hug my arms and stare at it. It seems to stare back.
“I won’t use you.”
But what if it could help? What if the book could solve this problem? What if it could save me from Stone Maddox? It probably can’t, right?
But what else can I do? Wait for him to tell the town what I am? Wait for people to show up at my door with pitchforks?
The hum grows. It slides across my skin like goose bumps prickling my flesh.
It won’t hurt to take a tiny peek, will it?
No, it won’t.
Slowly, I slide the book from the shelf.
Ready or not, here I come.
Chapter 8
Coco
As soon as the book is in my hands, the humming stops. I place it on the coffee table and sit on the rug underneath, tugging on the frayed woven fabric as I blow out a gusty breath.
There probably isn’t a spell inside that will help, and even if there is, more than likely I won’t be able to cast it. I’m not really a witch.
At that thought, sparks fly from my fingers and set one of my romance novels on fire.
“Ah!”
