Read Online Warlock Brothers of Havenbridge 01 - Spell Bound by Jacob Z. Flores - Free Book Online Page A

Right before I was about to touch him or feel his lips against mine, something interrupted us. When he walked down the empty hallways at school, performing a striptease, my alarm would go off as he was about to lose his underwear. When I got him into the backseat of my car after ripping off his clothes, the annoying beep would wake me for school before I could grab his dick.
    It was fucking aggravating getting cockblocked in my dreams, but not as frustrating as the nightmares that played in between. In them, something chased us, and it wouldn’t stop until it had us.
    “You will be mine,” the whispering voice that always followed us through the dreamscapes often repeated. It didn’t matter where we were—in the woods, at school, in my car—the gravelly voice said the same thing over and over as we tried to escape. “You will be mine.” But what made the dreams even stranger was that along with the voice drifted the ever-present smell of someone burning breakfast.
    I sat up in bed after escaping the voice for the third time that week. Drake and I had been in the forest behind the house, getting ready to get it on, when the voice spoke and the tree limbs suddenly turned to long claws that had finally managed to grab us.
    It was the first time whatever had been chasing us had made contact, and I didn’t like it one bit.
    My heart jackhammered in my chest and an uneasy drunken feeling set the world spinning like a top. What the fuck was going on?
    My door was suddenly flung open, and I yelped in surprise. Pierce stomped into my room, dripping perspiration and wearing only his gym shorts and a fuck-you grin. “Dad says to get your ass out of bed. You’ve got shit to do today, remember?”
    “Don’t you ever knock?” I asked as I swung my legs out of bed. “Or shower?” The stench of moldy gym socks and stale sweat polluted my room.
    “What?” he asked, raising his right arm and sniffing his ripe pit. “You don’t like the smell of greatness?”
    “Not when it smells like your ass,” I replied as I shoved him out of the room and locked the door behind him.
    “Stick with the plan,” Pierce said from the other side of the door. “Don’t screw it up.”
    “Don’t worry about me. Worry about yourself.” I hated that my reply made me sound like a little kid, but it pissed me off when my family naturally assumed I’d fuck things up.
    Pierce replied with only a snort before his footsteps padded down the hall.
    Since I didn’t have time to start what would likely turn into a wrestling match, I flipped him off from my side of the door before I hopped in the shower, got dressed, and shoved some breakfast down my throat.
    A few minutes later, I was driving into town in my black BMW 335i convertible. It was time for a more direct approach, and the best place to start was at Drake’s aunt Millie’s house. I pushed the button that lowered the top, anticipating that the breeze from the drive would calm my agitation. Usually the whipping of my dark locks and the gentle brush of the wind across my skin centered me. It lifted my spirits when I felt like a failure as a warlock and as a Blackmoor.
    But it did nothing to ease my still-fluttering heart. It was taking longer for the aftereffects of my nightmares to dissipate. What did that mean? I contemplated telling Thad or my father about the dreams, but I didn’t want a lecture.
    I’d figure it out on my own.
    Maybe some music would help. I turned on my XM radio, and “Fancy” blasted through my speakers. “Hell yeah.” This was my fucking jam. I rapped along with Iggy Azalea, and when Charli XCX sang the chorus, I belted it out because dammit, I was fancy!
    By the time I reached the stop sign at the intersection of Winston and Salem, I’d hit the second verse and was in full-out karaoke mode. Whether it was the song, the drive, or a combination of both, I’d started feeling better.
    And then someone suddenly slid across the hood of my car.
    It was Drake. He