Bound By Magic

Chelsea Jamison would love to be a normal girl and go to university like everyone else her age but she can’t. Her controlling parents keep her at home under their watchful eyes waiting for the moment that her powers awaken.
Leo West came to Eastbridge with only one thing on his mind. Revenge. Revenge on the people that murdered his parents.
One touch and their lives are changed forever.
Will Chelsea be able to control her powers? Can they learn to love a stranger? Or will dark secrets tear them apart?

Cover by Zillah Designs.


9. Chapter Eight: Leo

Penny pounced on me the moment I stepped into the small wooden hall that housed the Gathering. She was all over me and talked nonstop but I ignored her. Scanning the room I searched for Chelsea but she didn’t appear to be here yet.

After ten minutes of Penny continually yammering on in my ear I was ready to blow my brains out. She laughed suddenly and touched my chest. I moved away in annoyance and, feeling someone’s gaze on me, I glanced over my shoulder.

There she was.

My lips pulled into an unbidden smile and I crossed the hall towards where Chelsea was. Fear filled her face.

“Hi.” I took in her appearance. Why was she so scared? Surely I wasn’t that intimidating? “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Excuse me?” A tall, grey haired man stepped in front of Chelsea, his eyes narrowed into a scowl. He went by Grant Jamison but his real name was Trevor Williams. He was Chelsea’s dad and one of the people that had murdered my parents. I would have loved to punch the son of a bitch but I buried my anger, knowing that my temper would ruin everything. “Who are you and how do you know my daughter?”

“I’m Leo Webb.” My eyes settled on Chelsea’s mum Rachel Williams, now Deborah Jamison. Her features were sharp and cold, nothing like her daughter’s soft, inviting face, though Deborah’s hair would have been identical if not for the grey streaks that ran through it. I held out a hand. “I am your daughter’s soul mate.”

Grant and Deborah flinched noticeably. Had Chelsea not told them? That would explain why she looked so frightened.

Pretending not to know who Chelsea was, I asked, “What’s your name?”

“I’m Chelsea, Chelsea Jamison,” she replied, snaking a hand around her dad to shake mine. 

The lights in the hall spluttered when our hands touched and all the air was sucked from my lungs. My skin tingled pleasantly but I didn’t have time to ponder what had happened because Chelsea’s parents were bombarding me with questions. I answered them curtly, sticking to a story I had fabricated earlier, but often found my gaze drawn to Chelsea who was watching me with a hesitant smile.

“You must join us for dinner.” Deborah’s enthusiasm was obviously false.

Chelsea seemed to be as surprised as I was because her brown eyes were wide and her mouth had dropped open.

“That would be wonderful.” I smiled. “What time?”

Deborah gave me their address and told me to be there at six o’clock.

“I’ll see you then,” I told Chelsea warmly.

She nodded and was about to say something when she disappeared along with her parents as Deborah teleported them from the room. The action didn’t surprised me seeing as I already knew what powers Chelsea’s parents had. It had taken me a while to find out what powers my parents’ murderers had but it had been necessary; for my plan to succeed nothing could be left to chance. 



I knocked on the plain door of number four, Fairview Street, at exactly six o’clock. In my right hand I was holding a bouquet of small, pink flowers that I thought might help put me in Deborah and Grant’s good books. Though, worryingly, I wasn’t sure anything I could do would make Chelsea’s parents see me in a good light, which would make getting close to Chelsea hard.

“Mr Webb, please come in,” Deborah said, after opening the door.

I stepped inside the drab hallway and followed as she led me to the living room. Grant stood by the fireplace, a scowl on his face. Chelsea was reluctant to look up at me from where she was seated on a faded floral sofa. She looked sad and like she was holding back tears. Her pale hands were gripping the long, navy skirt that covered her legs.

Pretending that I hadn’t noticed that something was obviously wrong, I held the flowers out to Deborah, saying, “These are for you, Mrs Jamison.”

She accepted them and went into the kitchen where I could smell something delicious cooking. Hopefully they weren’t planning on poisoning me.

An uncomfortable silence descended on the room so I addressed Chelsea’s father, “Thank you for inviting me into your home, Mr Jamison.”

He glared at me but said nothing.

Chelsea’s shoulders curved inwards as if she was trying to make herself invisible.

“Are you well, Chelsea?”

Jumping at the sound of my voice, she hesitantly met my gaze.

“Yes thank you,” she whispered.

Deborah returned and announced that dinner was ready. Grant left the room and Chelsea slunk after him. The dining room was as dreary as the rest of the house. There were four high-backed wooden chairs around a long wooden table. Two of the chairs were positioned at the ends of the table and the other two were either side at the middle of the table. Grant sat down at one of the ends and Chelsea disappeared into the kitchen. Presuming that Deborah would be sitting at the other end, I chose one of the chairs in the middle.

“Here we are.” Deborah entered the room carrying two plates, Chelsea hot on her heels.

“Thank you,” I said as Deborah placed a plate in front of me.

Giving the other to her husband, she sat down at the other end of the table. Chelsea handed Deborah a plate before keeping the remaining one for herself, taking the chair opposite me.

“I hope you like Sunday roast.” Deborah’s tone was friendly but seemed forced.

“It looks delicious, thank you.”

As we ate Deborah and sometimes even Grant asked me questions such as how long was I planning on staying in Eastbridge? What was my job? They exchanged a wary look when I said that I wasn’t sure how long I would be here for. I wondered if I should be worried.

Chelsea seemed to be ignoring me as she ate. A tendril of red hair had come loose from her braid and I had the strangest urge to tuck it behind Chelsea’s ear. As if she had read my mind, she brushed the hair from her face, her brown eyes rising to mine. I smiled. Chelsea’s lips twitched and she returned to focusing on her food.

When we had finished, Deborah ordered Chelsea to gather the plates and bring out dessert. She was carrying only three bowls of chocolate cake with vanilla ice cream and instead of returning to the kitchen for another, she sat down. Deborah and Grant tucked into their puddings but I didn’t. Why wasn’t Chelsea having dessert?

“Do you want mine?” I asked.

Her parents froze and Chelsea blushed.

“No thank you. I don’t have pudding.”

“Are you sure?”

Nodding, she played with the edge of the table cloth.

As I ate hundreds of thoughts whizzed around my head. Was Chelsea not allowed dessert? What else wasn’t she allowed to do? Just how controlling of their daughter were they?

As soon as we had all finished, Chelsea cleared the plates.

“Do you need a hand?” I asked.

She shook her head and took them through into the kitchen. I was tempted to follow her but from the look on her face that wasn’t a good idea.

“That was lovely thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Somehow I didn’t think I was.

No one moved or said anything. Realising that was my hint to leave, I stood up.

“Thank you very much for your hospitality, Mr and Mrs Jamison but I better go. I hope to see you both again soon.” Neither of them moved to stand but I said anyway, “I can show myself out. Enjoy your evening.”

One of the doors leading off the hallway opened to the kitchen so I snuck inside to say goodbye to Chelsea. She was at the sink, washing all the dishes.


Searching the room for her parents, she hissed, “What are you doing?”

Her brown eyes were wide with fear and this close I could see that the golden flecks in them.

“I wanted to say bye to you.” Handing her a piece of paper with my number on, I said quietly, “Call me when you get a chance so we can talk. Alone.”

Chelsea dried her hands on a towel. “Fine, just go.” Several emotions ran riot across her features as she snatched the paper from me. Our fingers touched and it felt like I’d been struck by lightning. Chelsea inhaled sharply and a bubbling noise caught my attention. The sink had been full of water before but now it was nearly empty. I blinked several times. Maybe I was imagining things. I’d been in this house so long that I was going crazy.

“Leo.” It was the first time Chelsea had said my name. It made my heart swell.

Hearing movement in the other room, I told her to call me before hurrying from the house.

I had a feeling that Chelsea’s parents weren’t going to be inviting me around for dinner again. How was I going to seduce Chelsea if I wasn’t allowed to be alone with her? Hopefully Chelsea’s desire to get away from her parents would ensure she would ring me.





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