Spellbound by Destiny: A Witch's Portal

Copyright © 2024 by Olivia Grayson All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permission requests, contact livygray1201@o*********m. The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred. Book Cover by: https://www.premadebookcoversmarket.com First edition 2024 Journey bolted up to a seated position and wished she hadn’t. Bile rose in her throat, and she struggled to open her eyes. Before she managed to open them her head immediately felt like it was splitting in two. Her palms slammed to both sides of her temples, feeling like her brains might explode out of her skull if she didn’t hold it together with her hands. “Ugh, what the f**k?” She groaned while taking in her surroundings with squinted, tears forming in the corners of her eyes from the pain. After a few minutes of pounding pain, it slowly began to fade. Am I hungover? Did I go out drinking last night? I don’t remember going out, that’s not usual for a hangover? You forget the drinking part not the before part, right?Why was it so bright too? And breezy? And hard under my body? Journey wasn’t a frequent drinker. She could count on one hand the number of times she got drunk, and it was more like a good buzz, not black-out drunk. Her heart raced, the headache becoming the least of her worries as everything happening sank in. Leaves, dirt, and pine needles kissed her fingers as she ran her hands around the legs. She shifted her head from left to right, and as far as her eye could see, it was nothing but tall trees with no end in sight. Though shadowed by the foliage, the sun shone brightly, lighting the tops of the tallest trees. Immediately, she lowered her head as looking up caused the throbbing to return. Okay, looking up is bad. Her legs stuck out straight in front of her as she still had yet to move from her original position upon waking. Dazed, but now panic racked her body, creating a trembling wave to surge throughout her body. Shivering followed due to the chill in the air that nipped at her. She shivered to the chill in the air that nipped at her; it felt as if reality was slowly returning piece at a time. Rubbing her arms to stoke warmth, she looked down. A loose-fitting black flowy tank top that dipped low in front covered her chest barely, and tight, black skinny jeans covered her legs, so snug she appeared to be poured into them. On her feet were high-heeled black boots. She owned nothing like this in her life, let alone wore it. Her clothes tended to run on the baggier side, offering comfort, not style. So I went hiking in the woods in this dumb outfit and ankle-breaking boots? I’m not this dumb. What the hell is going on? Journey ran her hands through her hair and realized her wrists were adorned in bangles. They jingled and tinkled, resembling cheap bells with every movement. A matching necklace of gold with a large, intricate sigil ofthatsame gold wrapped around a ruby-looking stone adorning her neck. It reminded her of a Celtic symbol. Where had she seen it before, she wondered. It hit her. She had a tattoo on her hip that matched. She loved that tattoo. Gooseflesh sprouted over her skin as the whole outfit belonged to someone else, and yet there was this weird connection dangling in between her breasts. Why wouldn’t I remember anything? Was I drugged? Oh my God, was I raped? Another more reassuring thought struck her. “Oooohhh, I’m dreaming,” she spoke out loud for the second time, slicing into the quiet of the woods. That would explain the sigil; it was all in her subconscious. Maybe she saw this outfit in a magazine. The quiet, she realized, became noisy as many sounds all at once rushed in. Birds singing and chirping, the crinkling of leaves blowing in the breeze, and squirrels chittering. Journey closed her eyes and took in the smells of the soil and fresh air. If she hadn’t awoken here in confusion and pain, it would be absolutely serene. She shook her head. Confident she was dreaming, she stood up to check out the dream, but somewhere deep inside, she knew she was deluding herself. Everything felt so real, too real. She brushed off the back of the jeans she didn’t buy, and the headache throbbed a bit, but not as badly as before. However, it was another reminder of dream versus reality. Pain in a dream was not common. But maybe she actually had a headache in her sleep. Yeah, that’s it. She wobbled on the stupid shoes as she began to move forward, hoping to find a way out of the trees. The shirt’s thin material ran across her skin when a stronger breeze whipped around and through her, and she realized she was not wearing a bra as the tank top billowed and caressed her skin, pebbling her n*****s. Awesome. “What .. when the f**k do I not wear a bra? And how would I feelthatin a dream? What in the actual f**k is going on?” she yelled to the birds, sending a tree full of the winged creatures scattering into the blue sky. She huffed, determined to throat-punch whoever dressed her in such a proactive way. Not even a jacket, really? She shook her head at the insane thoughts, knowing that the idea of someone dressing her in a slutty outfit shouldn’t be the focus. The focus should be the fact that someone saw her naked and did lord knows what. She had only taken a few steps when she began to pat herself down and looked on the ground for a purse or a phone, but as anticipated, her lame search came up empty. Nervously, she ran a hand through her long, dark brown locks and found twigs and leaves poking out and tangled in her hair. She must be a sight to see if she wasn’t alone, in the middle of nowhere. Or so she thought until a branch snapped off in the distance and leaves crunched. Again, her heart raced, but now it felt like her heart tried to burst from her ribs it beat so hard and fast. Once more, she trudged forward, the heels sinking into the ground with each step. Where and how would I run in these f*****g shoes? In a dream, it wouldn’t matter what shoes I sported; it would feel like running through quicksand, but I’m just gonna break an ankle in these shoes. I could take them off but then cut my feet on rocks hidden under leaves and dirt on the forest floor. Another snap and crack. She chanced the shoes, the heels. They weren’t stilettos, but they weren’t clunky like wedges. She twisted her head quickly to see where the sounds came from, feeling a pain in her neck now, like a soreness from a bruise. She touched upraised skin. She was sensitive under her fingers but ignored it and tried to run when another crack echoed, but much closer. Her run proved more pathetic than anticipated, so she found a large tree to hide behind instead, panting from fear, not excursion. Fucking stupid boots! She wiped at the sweat running down her brow and held her breath when a voice boomed nearby. “I swear I just saw her. She has to be close. And she can’t get far, not the way she dresses. I’m surprised she would come out here.” A deep, angry voice grumbled. “I don’t know where she thought she could go. These games bore me. I’m getting sick of this s**t with her. It’s not like I want to be doing this either, but we agreed to this months ago. She agreed,” a second man complained. His voice was deep but honey-smooth, sultry. Okay, that’s weird...why do I care what he sounds like? I’m lost in the woods, and they sound angry at a woman or girl they chase. I feel bad for whoever she is. It can’t be me, but I could still be in danger if they stumble upon me. Don’t breathe. Don’t make a sound. Stay hidden. From the cracking twigs and rustling of the forest floor, they were closing in. Her bare shoulder rested on the rough bark of the wide trunk, but she stealthily put her back up against it, so she could see from more than one direction. If they kept coming, they were going to see her, but perhaps she would just circle it around as they passed her, as long as she could avoid making a sound. She looked at her feet. f**k! Leaves and branches were all around the base of the tree. Journey didn’t know if she should be afraid of them, but her instincts told her to run and hide. She put a hand over her mouth to quiet her breathing. Once they were gone, she needed to find a road and a gas station and get to a phone. Who the f**k am I gonna call? I know no one. Brilliant idea. Be a hermit who edits articles from home. She only knew her ex, and she very cleverly fled the state she lived in before hiding from him and his abuse. A scream almost escaped her lips when the voices were fifty feet or fifty yards away. s**t, why did I never pay attention to that s**t in school? “Do you want to keep going? Eventually, Lorelei has to come back. And maybe this time we make her explain the purpose of all this cat and mouse,” the first man said. Journey was amazed he could sound annoyed and bored at the same time. Until the name hit her: Lorelei. They weren’t looking for her after all. Could she risk it and come out? She released her mouth, opened it, and shut it again, pursing her lips. Nope. She held her breath, but the thumping in her chest threatened to betray her presence. “Your majesty...” the first man spoke louder now, calling after what she would only assume was the second. Your majesty? Oh lord, they are crazy. But still, she breathed a sigh of relief. From his friend’s shouting, he must have turned off further away from her. She might be safe, but if they were searching for Lorelei and not her, did it matter? Was she in danger to start with, she wondered? Hiding by the tree, she couldn’t discern where they were, so she rounded her shoulders to steal bravery. Her chin pointed up, and she poked her head from behind the tree. A startled scream fell from her mouth, and she stumbled back with a gasp, almost falling on her ass in those godforsaken shoes. The reason for her jump scare snaked an arm around her waist, keeping her upright, and brought her slamming into a wide and muscled chest attached to a tall adonis. She knew her mouth hung open, staring up at his eyes, the color of the ocean peppered with flecks of green. Oh, Jour, please put your tongue back in your mouth, eyes back in your head, and stop staring! And the adonis smirked. He f*****g smirked at her reaction. Now, she was annoyed and deeply embarrassed, red painting her cheeks. “Well, Rory, that is a new response. Here I thought you were immune to my charms,” his deep voice, husky and sexy, vibrating through his chest into hers. She bit her lip to stop a moan from spilling forth. However, the name hit her. Rory, oh, it must be short for Lorelei. Wait, why is he calling me Rory? Did he somehow mistake me for this person? Do I resemble her, or has he never met her? She scrunched up her face, but then panic kicked in as he leaned toward her face, staring at her lips, his own hovering closer and closer to hers. Her eyes grew wide when she realized what was coming, yet she couldn’t stop it, nor didn’t want to. His body pressed to hers, and heat engulfed her body and her senses. His arms tightened around her, and all logic slipped away, clouding her judgment. Journey told herself it had to be a wild level of chemistry when his lips brushed hers. Her body slumped into his and relaxed on his lips, matching his movements, but her brain was screaming for her to stop. He nudged the seam of her lips with his tongue, but suddenly he pulled away. Taking two steps back, he blinked rapidly, staring hard at her face, confused. The expression cleared, and anger formed into a scowl on his beautiful face. Did he not anticipate this feeling, or did he realize she, in fact, was not this Rory person? “God Dammit, Rory, really? Are you using magic on me? That’s low, even for you. To what end?” He fumed but didn’t let her go, probably expecting her to flee, which she very much intended to do now that he doused her with ice water with his clear disgust. She half expected him to wipe his mouth and spit on the ground. Journey couldn’t find the words at first until he released her waist and squeezed her wrist as he began to drag her toward a second man she finally noticed. ‘His majesty’ had to be six foot five, thick black hair down to his shoulders, wearing a ridiculous crown. Ridiculous because he wore snug blue jeans and a tight-fitted t-shirt, and ridiculous because it’s a freaking crown! Was I in f*****g England? He didn’t sound English; his accent sounded North American. I don’t get it. Do they think I’m part of some live-action role-play they are doing? She stumbled forward as he continued to pull on her arm, approaching the other man, who was nearly as tall as his majesty. His hair was longer and blond, but he matched his physique. He stood with his arms folded across his chest, looking completely unamused by, apparently, Journey and her ‘witchcraft’...or rather Lorelei. He tugged one last time, pinching her skin, and her anger rose to new levels. She kicked him in the back of the leg, surprising him enough to release her, and she found her voice. “What in the actual hell is your damage? I am not Lorelei. I’m not sure if we look similar, but you have to be able to tell the difference. And magic, are you maybe taking LARPing way too far?” She folded her arms over her chest and planted herself firmly where she stood, arching an eyebrow. “And I’m not going anywhere with you. Period.” Though she almost immediately wished she hadn’t said anything when he took one step toward her, his legs so long it closed the distance swiftly. Pulling her to his chest firmly, he whispered loudly, tickling her ear with his breath, but menace laced his words, “I don’t have time for your games, woman. We will be married whether we like it or not.” And with that, he grabbed her wrist again, then leaned over and hoisted her onto his shoulder and off her feet with ease and stormed toward this friend. She only had one free arm to hit him with and did so as hard as possible, yelling and screaming, enraged. “What the f**k!? Put me down, you psychotic asshole!” Fighting him with everything she had. He paused his walking; her cursing seemed to trip him up, but he just shook his head and continued anyway. “Hanging out in the pubs again, Rory? You got to stop hanging out with such a rough, unladylike crowd and unfit a soon-to-be queen.” For f**k’s sake! Can you kill people with thoughts? That would come in handy right about now. “I’m not Rory or Lorelei, and I’m definitely not marrying you, whoever you are! This is kidnapping!” she screamed futilely. When she didn’t give up the kicking and the screaming, she had more words thrown at her. “Keep it up, and I will knock your ass out. You won’t wake up til tomorrow,” he hissed. What in the hell did he mean by that? Oh s**t, would he punch me? All the true crime shows, and drama cop shows overwhelmingly told her that it was better to fight and scream and make a lot of noise. She couldn’t see anything but his ass, which was pretty nice. f*****g no, Jour! What the hell is YOUR damage now, girl? Fight! She lifted her head to take in her surroundings as they approached a parked black car on a dirt road. They hadn’t even walked that far; she must have been more dazed than she realized and closer to freedom. Her struggle resumed as she twisted her body on his shoulder and cursed more, crying out for help. His majesty’s head bobbed in a nod to the blond, and he nodded back before stuffing his hand in his jacket pocket and retrieving something from his pocket. Was it a gun? She screamed louder, thrashing and smacking his back furiously. A sharp jab stung her in the right ass cheek. She yelled out, but it didn’t take long before darkness started coming over, and her limbs began to lose their strength. “Fuuuuccckkk, yyyyooouuuu,” she breathed out. The last thing she heard before everything went black was a deep chuckle.