What Ingredients Are Needed For A 'Come To Me Spell'?

As the tittles says, I summoned him, expecting to be loved, worshipped, taken care of. What I received was a spanking to my bum and a scolding for my attempts. But I did win a daddy, a really strict one that I would always choose no matter what. This is our story. Warning this is a cgl story, filled with fluff. Apologies for any misspelling and grammar mistakes.

When she learnt that she is a witch her life turned upside down, yet she never wanted magic to control her life. It all changed once she found out she accidently began casting a spell she needs to complete before her 30th birthday. Now, she can either make her fated one kiss her, or she will die… The problem is, her destined person is immune to magic, which will her uneasy task even more complicated. Find out where the ill fate will lead a beginner witch and a cold man in expensive suit…

In my last life, I secretly slipped a Love Potion into the cup of my destined mate, the Alpha of my pack, Jason Green. As expected, he fell in love with me. We held the grandest mate-bonding ceremony in our pack's history and became the couple everyone envied. The effects of the Love Potion would last seven years. I naively believed that it would be enough to win his true heart. But Jason's childhood friend, Lilian Foster, traded her own tongue to a black-market witch for the antidote. The moment the truth was exposed, the love in Jason's eyes turned into a hatred that pierced through the bone. He sold me to the black market as a live test subject for experiments and forced me to drink a Corrosive Spellvial. My insides rotted away, and I died from sheer pain. Now, I had regressed in time, once again holding that same bottle of Love Potion. This time, I didn't hesitate. I drank it all in one swift movement. Jason, I wouldn't beg for your love again. I was going to love myself. So… Why are you the one who ended up regretting it?

I stood at the edge of Ironwood territory, boots sinking into mud as cold seeped through my coat. I hated being this close to their land. It smelled like wet dog, testosterone, and trouble. “You’re late, witch.” The voice hit low and deep, vibrating through the ground before it reached my ears. I didn’t flinch. I refused to give him that. I turned slowly, amethyst eyes narrowing as I found him at the tree line. Guilermo Santander. He stepped into the gray light, rain sliding off his broad frame. Six-foot-five of pure menace. Dark hair plastered to his forehead, silver streaks catching the gloom, and those amber eyes—burning straight through me. “I’m not late,” I said calmly, though my pulse spiked. “You wolves just don’t understand patience.” He stopped three feet away. My skin prickled as the runes along my ribs flared hot, reacting to the dense magic rolling off him. Suffocating. Intoxicating. “And you witches don’t understand territory,” Guilermo said. He didn’t sound feral. He sounded tired—like a man carrying a century of weight on deceptively young shoulders. He leaned in and sniffed near my neck. I stiffened. “You smell like sage and burnt sugar,” he murmured, voice dropping, darker now. “It’s giving me a headache.” “Then stop breathing,” I snapped. One corner of his mouth lifted, a flash of sharp canine. “Make me.” The air between us snapped tight. My magic stirred, violet haze curling from my fingertips without permission, brushing the leather of his jacket. He didn’t pull away. He leaned closer. And standing there in the freezing rain with a man who could tear my throat out, I realized two things: Elder Sibal was wrong—Guilermo wasn’t a monster to be chained. And I was in serious trouble.

He approaches, stalking me, I take several cautionary steps back, in shock. "What are you? "I whisper, my throat threatening to close in panic. "I said I would answer your questions but I don’t think you’re ready to know what I would answer to that one." Yolie Bruzain was hit by a car three years ago. She has always suspected supernatural forces were involved in her miraculous recovery. When an enigmatic Greek billionaire kidnaps and forcibly keeps her in his Villa, she realizes her suspicions are totally justified. Cause nothing is what it seems... Not even she, is who she thinks.

The dark matter had come to claim her soul. "Don't go. Do as he says," grandmother said. Suzanne blinked and looked into her grandmother's face. "Grandmama?” Grandmother's eyes were no longer glazed, and she had spoken with such clarity when usually, her speech was slurred. At that very moment, Suzanne had no doubt that her grandmother’s mind was crystal clear. Grandmother held onto Suzanne's hand and gently pried open her palm, revealing the black mark. Grandmother's eyes narrowed as she traced her bony finger on Suzanne's palm before staring back at Suzanne. "This," she pointed at Suzanne's palm, "This is the mark of the beast.”