Page 8 of A Summoned Husband

Why didn’t we listen to Imani? Right now, not messing with any type of witchy book was sounding real good.

I slowly turned the corner.

My lips pursed together, the breath kept captive in my lungs as my eyes widened and I looked over the scene.

The girls were slumped around the table. The table that had the book opened to the same page smeared with my blood. My eyes were drawn to it again, like a beacon. It was… glowing! A soft red glow illuminated the book, casting it in a soft terrifying light and highlighting the silhouettes of the girls slumped around it.

“What the fuck?” I whispered.

My feet moved of their own volition until I stood where I once knelt. My eyes glued to the blood — my blood — on the book.

It sizzled on the page, sunk deep and found a home on the dark parchment. The script I couldn’t understand lit the same red as my blood, the weird symbols following suit. The house groaned and the ground beneath my feet thumped in the same ominous way my heart did in my chest. In my ears.

Eyes wide, I was frozen. Helpless to do anything but stare at the page.

A bright flash of light and my feet were suddenly free. Heat filled the room, almost unbearable as my feet flew up over my head and I flew back. The smell of something foul filled the air and burned my nostrils as my ears rang, high and excruciating.

My hands lifted, cupped over my ears as I squeezed my eyes closed.

It felt like I stared into the sun, burning my retinas. My lungs squeezed in my chest, like hands covered in fire wrapped around them, daring me to try to take a full breath.

Rolling onto my side, I huffed in a strangled sob. My mouth opened, desperation filling me as the heat kissed my skin. Pain seared through my chest. A hot brand pressed against my flesh so intense I swore I could feel it down to my very soul. My hand whipped up, covering the tender flesh. I winced as my fingers pressed against raised skin.

Was there a fire?

What happened?

Why was it suddenly so hot?

My mind went crazy as I opened my mouth, my throat unbearably dry. I wanted to call out to them. To check and see if they were okay or if whatever had happened in my living room had stolen away the dearest people in my life forever.

Fresh tears rolled down my cheeks as I swallowed hard.

Come on, Eden.

“Vi,” I croaked. “Imani… Sarika. Alicia.” My words tapered away to a moan as my body burned and my muscles ached.

What the hell was happening to me?

Summoning all my willpower, I pushed myself first up to my hands and knees before putting my shaky feet beneath me. If my girls were in that room, come hell or high water, I was going to get to them.

I blinked, trying to rid my vision of the bright dots that filled it so I could see what happened.

A cough stole my words as I tried to speak again, but I trudged into the living room just the same. My lungs still ached and everything burned, but I blinked until my eyes cleared.

“What the fuck?” the words left my mouth on a breath.

The book hovered above my coffee table, suspended by something unseen and surrounded by bright red light. There, standing on top of the book, was a man. Well, kind of a man. No. Definitely not a man.

I shook my head, trying to make sense of it.

His skin was deep red. His eyes were an abyss of darkness. Muscles bunched under taut skin, massive pecs that drew my eyes down to chiselled abs, that stretch of skin that on a man would usually tempt me to look further down. Only, there was no waistband. There was hair. Dark fur that stretched down his legs to hooves.

My eyes froze on the hooves before they lifted back up to look at the face of… whatever this was.

His jaw was square, his cheeks hollowed, and his nose was thick, defined. And he had horns.

Horns!