Jodi Redford - The Seven Year Witch

Groaning, he buried his face against her. He placed a tender kiss on her pulse, and a moment later his canines pricked her flesh. She instinctively tensed, not knowing what to expect. Would there be pain?

His teeth punctured deeper. But there was no agony, only the most exhilarating, intense pleasure she’d ever known. It swept over her, radiating inward and outward until she was submerged in pure sensation. She swam in the currents of his energy, their essences merging into shimmering threads of lavender and gold. There was no beginning and no end to their unity. No weakness in their link. She opened her eyes to the shining light of her and Logan’s love.

One word sang in her soul.

Home.

Twenty-nine was too damn young to be suffering a midlife crisis.

And a mental breakdown.

Shaking her head, Willa Jameson parked her Taurus outside Tybee’s Sugar Shack. The only thing that’d talk her down from the ledge she was straddling right now was an Oreo Cookie shake. She stepped inside the building, the smell of vanilla and chocolate like a tranquilizer dart to the jugular. Her sigh of contentment floated free. Now if only this illusion of tranquility and normalcy would last.

Jenson was manning the counter today. He gave her a friendly wave. “Hey, Willa. The usual?”

She wasn’t the least bit surprised by the question. God knows, she came here often enough everyone knew her and the fact that Oreo Cookie shakes were her personal crack. “Yep. Extra heavy on the cookie today, please.”

Jenson’s eyebrows lifted, but he didn’t say anything. A few minutes later, her liquid therapy in hand, she left the Shack and returned to her car. She took a sip of her shake and groaned in appreciation before turning the key in the ignition. The radio popped on, and she listened to the DJ rambling about the top story that’d been featured on every news channel for the past two days—the mysterious and completely spontaneous recovery of the coma victims who’d been under close monitoring at St. Joseph’s. Everyone was calling it a miracle.

If they only knew the real story. Not that the truth was any less miraculous. And a whole lot weirder.

Plunking her shake in the cup holder, Willa lowered the volume on the radio and pulled onto the street. But rather than turn inland and head to her duplex apartment as she’d intended, she found herself driving in the direction of the north beach as if she didn’t possess control over her hands—which were gripping the steering wheel as if the thing might suddenly rip off and go flying out the window.

Oh hell. Now what?

Her foot accelerated on the gas, speeding her past the clusters of rental cottages hugging the shoreline of the Atlantic. The Tybee Island Light Station popped into view and she decelerated. Just as she was about to exhale in relief that her psychosis had apparently decided to give her a break, she careened into the lighthouse’s parking lot and braked to a stop. No one was around since it was after normal operating hours. Good thing, because with that Dukes of Hazard stunt, she probably would have wiped out an entire line of cars.

She stumbled from the vehicle and staggered across the steaming asphalt. Instead of heading toward the light station, she staggered toward the dunes in the distance. As she stared at the whitecaps cresting on the horizon, she started to get a sinking feeling where she was headed.

Pleasenopleasenopleaseno.

The puppeteer controlling her body refused to listen to her desperate pleas. She tumbled through the sand, the waves growing deafening in her ears.

Other than that dip in Seven’s fiery lake, she hadn’t physically stepped foot in any body of water bigger than a bathtub in almost twenty-two years. As she neared the rolling tide, the horrible memory of her parents sinking beneath the waves crashed into her.

Terror and despair clawed within her all over again. Oh God, no .

Warning bells screamed in her head, but her legs continued moving, increasing their pace. Before she knew it, water crashed over her, dragging her under. She tried to kick against the currents, but the tow was too strong.

Something curled around her ankles and gave a vicious tug. Within the murky depths, red demonic eyes appeared. “ I know what you are. ” The sibilant voice snaked into the cortex of her brain.

She screamed, right before the world went dark.