Page 3 of Bear to be Wild (Moonlight Siren #5)

MARIBELLE

N ew guy tried. He’d lowered the volume of the music, an energetic song with lots of thumping bass. Every now and then, weights would clunk and thump, and he’d bellow out an encouraging “You’ve got this!”

Mr. Motivation.

Ugh, who could be that cheerful this early?

After that class, the loudness next door quieted. I glanced at the Moonlight Siren’s daily schedule and didn’t find any other classes scheduled in the fitness studio for the rest of the day. Thank the goddesses.

My gaze fixed on a photo in one of the flyers.

A professional photo of him all smiley stared back at me.

Those deep amber eyes crinkled at the corners.

His biceps bulged as he crossed his arms across his oversized chest. Yuck!

What was he trying to do—enlist passengers to sign up for training or swipe right on a dating site?

Coach Feel-the-Burn had an open house after lunch to discuss physical training packages for the week. It listed his credentials with a bunch of acronyms that might as well have been alphabet soup.

What was his deal? I pursed my lips. When I’d gone over to talk to him, that shifter had thrown me off.

I’d expected more arrogance, more pushback.

Not fumbling. And definitely not someone so agreeable.

His awkwardness during our rash introduction was somewhat endearing.

He almost got me to smile. And when he’d asked me my name, a hint of shame washed over me.

I hadn’t been welcoming at all. After all, I remembered my first day starting on the Moonlight Siren, overwhelmed by my new environment and eager to make a good first impression.

Perhaps I should have been a tad bit nicer. Put together one of those compliment sandwiches to soften the criticism.

But I wasn’t a damn chef, I was a witch. I created potions and tinctures, not meals.

Charlotte walked her client out and then over to me at the reception desk. “Any new signups today?” She glanced down at the desk with the ship’s daily. “What are you looking at?”

I pointed at Roan’s photo. “Just seeing how often I have to endure listening to the Iron Beast next door today.” I frowned. “His name is Roan. What is it short for? Groan? Because that’s a lot of what I hear coming from next door.”

One side of her mouth slanted up in a smirk. “You seemed to be looking awfully closely at his picture.”

My cheeks heated slightly. “Awful being the key word in this case.” I turned the schedule face down so I wouldn’t see those eyes staring at me.

A small chuckle slipped out of her. “Is he as good-looking in person as he is in his photo?”

I avoided glancing back at the photo, but an image of him standing in front of me in the hall crept into my mind anyway. Perhaps he was somewhat tolerable to look at. Okay, he had kind eyes. A deep, rich amber that had fixed on me with an unnerving intensity.

And his features were not unpleasant. The rugged jawline softened by stubble.

And sure, his body was fit—his shoulders bouldering and chest stretching across like a massive mountain range. His body tapered down to a trim waist. I bet that beneath his fitted shirt he had muscles chiseled into his core.

“Hard to notice,” I dismissed with a snort. “With all that testosterone fogging up around him.”

The next morning, Charlotte and I prepped the massage area for a full roster of guests during a day at sea. And the noise next door returned. Music played, but at a lower volume than yesterday morning. Grunting. And Roan’s encouragement—so much damn motivation.

“What’s he doing over there?” I said.

She scanned through the ship’s daily. “A Tabata class. Includes kettlebells.”

I fake gagged. “With all that grunting? Is he coaching them to give birth to a kettlebell?”

Charlotte chuckled and walked by me.

“Breathe in serenity,” I repeated yesterday’s mantra. “Breathe out urge to hex.”

“Maribelle,” Charlotte scolded in a knowing tone and wagging index finger. “Don’t go there. You got away with it with Van, but that could’ve gotten you fired.”

“Right, right, I know,” I replied, as if I wasn’t even entertaining the option. “But what if…”

“Maribelle,” she echoed in the same tone, a notch higher in warning.

“I’m just saying, we’re blessed with magical gifts. We might as well use it for our benefit.”

“Uh huh,” she said with skepticism. She crossed her arms across her chest, reminding me of that infuriating shifter’s professional photo that had unfortunately burned its way into my brain like I had a photographic memory.

“What if we do a simple sound-muffling spell? You know, just a ward between this wall to soften the volume.” I pointed at the wall separating us from a class that sounded like my worst punishment come to life.

Charlotte tilted her head and tapped her chin. “I suppose that wouldn’t be too out of line. It’s not like you’re messing with someone’s free will .” She emphasized the last two words, a clear reference to my prank on Van.

“Will you help me?” I asked her.

She shook her head. “No, I’m not getting involved. I don’t even think the sound is that noticeable. You’re just fixated on it. Just focus on our music instead.” She gestured toward a speaker playing soothing melodies.

I ignored her advice and raised my chin.

“Fine, I’ll do it myself.” As I walked back into a back room where I had my magical supplies, I muttered to myself.

“Totally ethical. Not against any rule.” In fact, it would be better for everyone—clients, him with being able to teach his class at whatever unearthly volume he wants, and me with my sanity.

I searched through my magic books and found one with a muffling spell. Perfect. It would work for seventy-two hours, which was fine. It was a simple spell using crystals and oils, and I could repeat it again as needed. I gathered the materials and placed them on a worktable.

I focused on steadying my breath with deep inhales and exhales, tapping into my center.

Picking up the first crystal, I glanced down at the steps and wove the spell with intention, projecting toward the wall.

I turned the page and continued through the steps.

The crystals vibrated with energy and glowed with a warm golden light.

A quiet hum grew louder, resonating throughout the room—and then sputtered.

“What—”

The pink quartz in my hand grew hot, vibrating against my palm. A small orb of energy grew inside my chest. Weird. It snaked out in front of me and then snapped across the room like a snake, coiling right into the wall that separated the spa from the fitness studio.

Something was wrong. I dropped the stone onto the table and staggered backward, eyes wide as the energy thrummed with more vibrancy inside me. When it settled, a disturbing awareness snapped into place.

“No.” My voice was barely audible.

A heavy weight thumped on the other side of the wall, followed by a startled groan. Then all fell silent for a few terrifying seconds.

My breath caught. A bonding thread pulsed toward that wall.

What was going on?

Turning my focus back to the book, I flipped through the pages. “What have I done?” I whispered as the horror settled over me.

Charlotte rushed in, glancing around with wide eyes. “Everything okay back here?”

I shook my head rapidly, as if I could undo my mistake as quickly as pressing Ctrl+Z on a keyboard. No such luck.

“I—um—made a mistake.”

“How?” She tilted her head.

I pointed at the book. “I seem to have mixed up two spells.” Biting my lower lip, I admitted, “I must have flipped to the wrong page.”

She glanced at the open book and gasped. “Nooo… A binding spell?”

And with how the magic was already working inside me, drawing me toward him, I knew exactly who I’d accidentally bonded myself to.

“Yup.” I swallowed, and my mistake tasted like sour regret on my tongue. “I’ve accidentally bound myself to Mr. Beast Mode.”