Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Praise for J.C. McKenzie

Dedication

Acknowledgments

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Epilogue

Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

The Shucker’s Booktique

by

J.C. McKenzie

Lobster Cove Series

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

The Shucker’s Booktique

COPYRIGHT © 2014 by J.C. McKenzie

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com

Cover Art by Debbie Taylor

The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

PO Box 708

Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

Publishing History

First Faery Rose Edition, 2014

Digital ISBN 978-1-62830-659-0

Lobster Cove Series

Published in the United States of America

Praise for J.C. McKenzie

“From the enticing smells of cooked lobster and melting butter, to the feel of the ocean breeze caressing your skin, the images and characters created by J.C.McKenzie wrap their arms around you and draw you into the wonderfully vivid world of THE SHUCKER’S BOOKTIQUE and Lobster Cove.”

~Author Charlotte Copper

~*~

“Not only is the [SHIFT HAPPENS] world well developed but the characters really brought the story home.”

~Stacy, Urban Fantasy Investigations

~*~

“Shifter stories aren’t my first choice, but SHIFT HAPPENS [Carus Series, Book 1] was so fun to read—fast-paced, action-packed, and a heroine who made me both chuckle and snort.”

~Author C.J. Burright

~*~

“I loved [SHIFT HAPPENS]...I have never read a shifter or were book like this...I am so ready to read more of this story...I give this a 5 fang review.”

~Paranormal Romance and Authors that Rock

~*~

“SHIFT HAPPENS is a wonderful new book from debut author J.C.McKenzie...It’s not just Andy but the wonderful cast of supporting characters that had me hooked.”

~Author Charlotte Copper

~*~

Coming Soon—BEAST COAST (Carus Series, Book 2)

Dedication

This story is dedicated to the ocean lovers

who see magic in every wave.

Acknowledgments

To my wonderful critique partners: Jo-Ann Carson, Charlotte Copper and Shelly Chalmers...

To my beta reader and childhood friend, Kristi Kyle...

To my other beta reader and kindred spirit,

Jackelyn Ford…

To the Lobster Cove crew

for letting me be a part of the creation process...

To my publisher, the Wild Rose Press

for picking up this story and others...

To my cover artist, Debbie Taylor

for yet again creating a beautiful cover...

To my editor and fellow science geek, Lara Parker...

To my supportive family, amazing friends,

and my wonderful in-laws...

To my loving husband and beautiful son...

Thank you.

Your support and feedback mean the world to me.

~

May your joys be as deep as the oceans,

and your troubles as light as its foam.

“At the beach, life is different. A day moves not from hour to hour but leaps from mood to moment. We go with the currents, plan around the tides, follow the sun. We measure happiness by nothing we can hold...nothing we can catch. Everywhere…Life is jumping and elusive and momentously momentary. We want to [stretch] the days, distill the memories, make them last. At the same time, we know that the beauty is in the evanescence. Every wave comes in, then retreats. Every day promises, then turns its back and slips away. Every joy has a little tease in it, a give and a take, and leaves a wake of longing.”

~Sandy Gingras, How To Live At the Beach

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Willa bolted upright in bed. The white sheets clung to her damp tank top and shorts. Her gut clenched, and foreboding trickled down her spine like sweat. The shapes of the furnishings in her aunt’s second floor guest room slowly materialized as her eyes adjusted to the dark night. Rain pounded against the bedroom window, and the birch trees groaned in the gale force winds outside. She closed her eyes and inhaled the lingering smells of sea breeze air with evening primrose and night-blooming cereus.

Must’ve been thunder.

She dropped back onto the soft pillows and let sleep slide over her body again.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Willa flung back the bed sheets and set her feet on the rustic wood flooring. That didn’t sound like thunder. Sounded like someone slamming his or her fist against the storm door downstairs. Her room sat above the novelty bookstore her aunt owned and operated. Currently, the other bedrooms were empty, including her aunt’s.

Who the heck would come to call at… Willa glanced at her bedside clock, and the ugly green lights glared back at her. Who the heck would knock on the door of the Shucker’s Booktique at three in the morning? On a weeknight?

The banging continued, and she lurched from the bed. Maybe someone had found her aunt. She’d been missing for five weeks, vanishing without a word from this bookstore.

Maybe it was Aunt Jenny!

Or maybe it was the cops.

She hustled to throw on her robe. Her heart thudded in her chest as she raced down the stairs and through the house. When she reached the front of the bookstore, she flipped the three deadbolts and flung the heavy oak door open.

It wasn’t her aunt.

A giant hurricane of a man stood in front of her. Easily standing above six and a half feet, his wide shoulders took up most of the doorway. Flashes of lightning illuminated porcelain, almost translucent skin, and dark, stormy eyes—thunderous clouds of gray changing to the deep blue of an angry ocean. Ink-black hair, dripping with rainwater, plastered his chiseled features and added to his severe, angular face.

His eyes had widened when she opened the door, but now they narrowed to study her. He hesitated and then stepped forward.

Willa squeaked and slammed the door closed.

Or at least tried to. He stuck his foot out and the door bounced off it to rebound into her face.

****

Lon jumped in surprise and stared at the nymph-like woman. She flailed, arms flapping in the air like a nubile chick, before she hit the floor. Her head smacked against the bookstore’s tiles with an audible crack.

Oh shit!

He slipped into the bookstore and shut the heavy door against the raging storm outside. When he knelt beside the petite brunette, he checked her pulse, nice and steady. Her skin tingled under his fingers, shooting feather light wisps of energy down his arm. He paused to close his eyes and enjoy the sweet vibrations as they radiated through his essence. Delicious and unique.

His eyes popped open and raked her body. With her robe flung open and transparent white tank top beneath, he could see everything in the streaks of lightning. The wet clothing clung to her pale skin, showing the soft curve of her breasts and pink nipples.

What was this delectable creature doing in Jenny’s booktique? At first he thought Jenny had dyed her hair; this woman a younger carbon-copy in a different colour palette. Definitely related.

Lon reluctantly got up and walked through the bookstore to get a wet washcloth from the bathroom in the back of the building. Even with the limited light, the place looked as it had the last time he’d visited, as if stuffed in some invisible time-capsule. He flicked the lights on as he moved through the old house.

“Jenny?” he called out at the base of the stairs. “You here?”

He waited, but no sing-song voice answered. Maybe she finally took that much-needed vacation. He shrugged and walked into the bathroom to grab a washcloth and soak it under the tap.

Could’ve used rain water.

As he walked back into the store’s main room, he ran his hand against the book bindings. He loved the smell and feel of books, old and new. Jenny’s place offered both. She’d converted the living and dining area of this house into a bookstore with character.

The smell of old paper and leather comforted him almost as much as spending time with his human friend. He didn’t have to pretend with Jenny. He didn’t have to be someone else. She already knew his deepest secret.

He faltered when he reached the woman at the store’s entrance. Jenny’s relative. She remained prone, sprawled out like a stunned snow angel, glowing in the light from the raging storm outside. He hesitated before walking around her to flick on the last of the lights. The artificial bulbs banished the ethereal moment.

When the woman groaned, he hustled to kneel beside her and help her sit up. Her skin zapped him again with soft flowing energy. Her aura spun streams of sparkly purple and gold. Just like Jenny’s, but somehow more alluring. Interesting.

“Easy,” he said. “You took quite a spill.”

She stiffened into a statue in his arms. He placed the cloth on her forehead and hoped she’d find the coolness soothing. Her right temple got bashed pretty hard by the door.

“Shhh,” he said. “I’m not here to hurt you. I’m sorry I gave you a fright.”

“Why are you here?” she whispered.

“Looking for Jenny. Is she around?”

“No. No she’s not.” Her muscles tensed again. After a pause, she pushed his arms away and attempted to stand. She resembled a newborn colt getting up for the first time. Her legs shook and wobbled, but she’d probably bite him if he reached out to help. He clasped his hands and rocked on the balls of his feet as he stayed in a crouched position. He’d be ready to lunge if she toppled over.

“Do you know anything about that?” she demanded.

He dragged his attention away from her smooth legs, and straightened to stand beside her. “About what?”

“About where she is?” She flung her unruly mane back and speared him with a steady gaze. She wobbled again.

Lon reached out to steady her. When his hand touched her arm, she squeaked and jumped back. Her face flushed deep red, and she looked away.

Dammit! He’d scared her again.

He ran his hand through his wet hair and spoke softly. “Why would I look for her here if I knew she was elsewhere?”

She pursed her lips and squeezed her body tight with her arms.

He studied the young woman again. Not the tallest of women, nor the most beautiful, but something about her features and how they worked together made her striking. Her amber eyes held intelligence and her wavy chestnut hair brought out the cute freckles across her nose. The purple and gold aura danced around her and made him want to sway to its invisible tune. The sight of her full, bow lips sent a bolt straight to his cock. He cleared his throat. “Maybe we should get you to a doctor.”

****

Under the store’s lights, Willa took in the stranger’s appearance. Old faded jeans with ripped knees from wear and tear, not fashion, clung to his muscled thighs; a simple long-sleeved black shirt, one size too small, spanned his broad, muscular chest; and his scuffed, soil-sodden running shoes with untied laces tracked dirt into the store. The storm had victimized his clothing, and the drenched material dripped onto the tiled flooring along with a trail of mud and leaves.

He wanted to take her to a doctor? Well, a deep ache resonated from her right temple and thudding pained the back of her skull, but maybe he should take her to a therapist instead. Her mind delved into a new world of crazy. At first, this man’s intimidating presence had scared her. How could it not? He was huge, mysterious and banging his fist against her missing aunt’s door at a god-awful time in the morning.

But now?

Now she wanted to touch him, to feel that cool, sweeping energy his skin seemed to generate when it contacted hers, like he left an imprint. She’d never felt anything like it before. The lust coursing through her veins scared her more than his size or the circumstances.

Breathe!

Taking a deep inhale of man and sea, she noted his clothes again.

He must be freezing.

The wind howled its rage outside, followed by thunder and another crack of lightning. Mother Nature really gave it to Lobster Cove tonight.

“I’m so sorry,” she said and dragged her eyes away from his chest. If this man wanted to harm her, he had his chance when she lay flat on her back doing her best floor-tile impression. “You must be cold. Do you want something warm to drink or a towel?”

“I don’t mind the cold,” he grumbled, his tone blending with another rumble of thunder. “But I would enjoy a hot drink, if it’s not too much of an inconvenience.”

She nodded at his feet and then swiveled to walk to the back of the bookstore, where the office, kitchen and one of the bathrooms were situated. Thank goodness only the bedrooms and second bathroom were upstairs. Despite feeling relatively safe with this stranger, she didn’t like the idea of inviting him upstairs into her private sanctuary. She didn’t trust herself. “It’s just through here.”

“I’m familiar with the layout. Jenny and I met often for tea.”

Willa bit her lip. She’d had no idea her aunt had a male “friend.” Something hollowed out in her chest, leaving an empty stabbing pain. Everyone had a better love life than she did, even her reclusive, book-loving aunt.

“Sorry, I wasn’t aware my aunt had a boyfriend. If you’ll have a seat, I’ll just put the kettle on.” She waved at the small dinette set in the back room and walked to the kitchen counter to turn on the electric kettle. She didn’t want to look at the man. She didn’t want him to see her eyes. If he did…somehow he’d see the jealous monster thrashing around in her head. Or her lust.

What was wrong with her? Turned on by her aunt’s boyfriend—worse, her beloved, missing aunt’s boyfriend.

Maybe he should take her to the doctor after all. The door bonked her head harder than she thought.

When she reached for the kettle, a large smooth hand closed over her trembling one. A cool wave of energy flowed through her body from where his skin touched hers. She squeaked and jumped back half a step.

And bumped into a wall of muscle.

His rock hard body, though wet and cold, sent heat racing through her veins.

“I tell you what.” The man spoke into her hair, casting shivers to dance down her body. “Why don’t I get the hot drinks started and you can…er, you can put something else on?”

She looked down at her outfit and warmth spread across her face. Her robe had opened and her white tank top, already tight, had been made transparent by sweat and the rain. Her nipples, pink and pointy, said “hello.”

“Oh my!” She clutched the robe around her body and skirted around the man to head for the stairwell. “I’ll be right back.”

The man wasn’t looking at her. He stood stiffly at the counter and studied the kettle as if it contained all the secrets in the world, completely indifferent to her near naked state.

****

Lon stared at the blasted kettle as if it was the sole anchor in a storm and fought his raging hard-on. This woman’s going to be the death of me.

If he continued to admire at the way her tank top clung to her small but full breasts, and displayed those perky nipples begging to be sucked, he’d either ravish her right there or go insane. He’d never force a woman, but he wanted to crush her body against his and slip his tongue into her mouth. Too bad her behaviour screamed “not interested.” She wouldn’t want his tongue anywhere on her body. She could barely look at him.

Her parting comment still rang in his ears. She thought he dated her Aunt Jenny? No way. Their relationship never worked like that. He’d better set her straight.

“Hey,” he called out and then walked around to the staircase.

The strange, but beautiful woman froze mid-way on the steps and slowly turned to peer down at him; eyes wide and brows raised. From this angle, the lighting accentuated the curve in her hips and well-toned thighs. If he ran his hands up their length, would they tremble at his touch and feel as smooth as they looked?

She caught his dropping gaze and wrapped her robe tightly around her body.

He bit his tongue before continuing. “Your aunt and I are just friends, not lovers.”

“Oh,” she said, expelling a long breath at the same time. Then, she turned and continued to slowly climb the steep, narrow stairs, as if contemplating each step.

He wanted to run after her.

Was it wrong to wish her robe didn’t cover her backside? He’d give anything for a glimpse of her butt. He imagined it heart-shaped and firm like the rest of her.

He shook his head and turned away from the staircase. He didn’t want her to catch him staring at it like some maniacal stranger. Well, to her he was a stranger, and he certainly wasn’t normal.

So this little nymph was one of Jenny’s nieces. Which one? God, the woman had too many to count, and almost all brow-beating battle-axes as Jenny’d described them. Weren’t they all married with kids? His back snapped straight and tightness settled into his shoulders.

She’s taken.

He hadn’t noticed a wedding ring. Maybe she’s separated. Maybe he could establish a mutually beneficial relationship without giving away his true nature.

He chuckled and shook his head. One, she wasn’t interested; two, she was married; and three, she didn’t seem like the type to agree to a fuck-buddy relationship. Too bad. With the energy zinging between them with every skin-on-skin contact, it would be exquisite.

The kettle whistled, almost drowned out by the constant drone of the storm outside. Every crash of the waves sounded like bells to his ears. His brethren squealed with delight, a sound only his kind could hear. If he hadn’t chosen to visit Jenny, he’d be racing in the undertows with his brothers.

He glanced outside. There might still be time for play. The storm held strong and it would be hours before the sea calmed.

He pulled two cups out and made some of the herbal tea Jenny liked so much. The one with the tiger on the box. He had no idea if her nameless niece liked the same thing, but he’d find out. He planned to discover more about her and the disappearance of Jenny. He knew better than anyone that things weren’t always what they seemed.

****

Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. A hunky stranger loitered downstairs making her tea, and she couldn’t figure out what to wear.

Branches from the birch trees scraped against the window as another gust of wind rocked through the backyard of the house. In the dark, with only flashes of lightning to illuminate them, the branches looked like elongated gray fingers, scratching to get in.

Willa shivered and went back to dressing. She settled for dark denim skinny jeans, and a flowing green cotton shirt. She could deliberate all night, but eventually the guy would wonder what took her so long. Still, she couldn’t squash the powerful need to look good for him.

The clinking of mugs drifted upstairs. Her mind told her to be cautious, but her hormones kept telling her, with every sound pinging up from the kitchen, she should race down the stairs and jump the man.

She ran a brush quickly through her hair, then cursed when it poofed to twice its thickness. Damn frizzy hair and damn moisture. A hair tie would have to do. She snatched one from the dresser and quickly threw her hair up.

Her heart thudded in her chest as a personal time-keeper. How long had she already taken? Ten minutes? George would’ve been yelling at her by now.

Ugh. Well, he hadn’t wanted her anyway. She could take all the time she needed…couldn’t she?

No. It was rude to make someone wait. She took one last look in the mirror, hated what she saw, tried to smooth down her hair again, and then spun around to walk downstairs. Her heartbeat picked up at the thought of looking into the dark, mysterious depths of his thundercloud eyes.

Maybe this guy had the answers she sought. Maybe she could kiss them out of him.

The old, heritage home groaned with each step on the hardwood stairs. The storm should’ve drowned out the sounds, but each creak made Willa wince. Her aunt had spent a lot of money converting this plantation-style house into a trendy, profitable, book-selling business. The charming three thousand square foot home had been built by a local merchant and shipwright in 1865, when granite, lumber, and shipbuilding were the town’s big industries. Since then, the home had passed through many hands and had been vacant since the 80s. Aunt Jenny bought it with inheritance money and entrenched herself in her job; always saying it didn’t count as work when it was something she loved.

Well, where was she now?

Something must’ve gone wrong. The Shucker’s Booktique was her aunt’s baby, her life, her world. She’d never abandon it.

Her chest stopped its hard, anticipatory beating and sank a little in her chest. A sigh escaped her lips and she silently asked her aunt for forgiveness. Here she was, lusting after a complete stranger, and her aunt was missing.

Yes, this man could have vital information regarding her aunt’s whereabouts. He could also be the one responsible.

The blood in her veins grew icy. She hadn’t thought of that.

At the base of the stairs, she took a deep breath and prepared to launch into a tirade, or at least a police-worthy interrogation, before turning the corner to walk into the kitchen. She jerked to a stop and her breath snagged in her throat. The stranger stood in the outline of the kitchen’s window; long, ink-black hair dripped rain onto the floor. His ill-fitting clothes, soaked through, revealed touch-worthy broad shoulders, strong pecs, and chiseled abs. Her fingertips itched to reach out and trace lines along his body.

His piercing storm-gray eyes twinkled and flashed in unison with the raging borderline-cyclone outside and fastened on her.

She forgot what she’d planned to say.

“There you are,” he said. His eyes roamed her body and a slight smile tugged at his lips. “I made you herbal tea. I figured it was too late…” He glanced outside. “Or early, for anything caffeinated.”

“Thanks. Smells good.” She reached out and accepted the steaming cup. It slipped partially from her hands and she groped at the mug before it could fall to the ground. Clutching the handle, she dried the outside off with her shirt. How’d the cup get so slippery?

The man wore a funny expression. Then, she glanced at his hands; he wrung them together. Wet hair, wet clothes, wet hands…

“You’re still soaked. Are you sure I can’t offer you a towel, or something? I don’t think we have any clothes, er, big enough to fit you, but at least you could dry off.”

His lips twitched. “I’m fine. I don’t mind being wet.”

“Oh,” she said. Normally she’d be annoyed at someone bringing so much water into the old house, but the drenched effect somehow fit him, making her easily forget his state of disarray. Odd. No one could be that comfortable with soaked clothing, could they? “Okay…”

Silence stretched in the small kitchen as the storm thundered outside. The cereus and primrose smells from earlier were long gone, replaced with herbal tea, the dew of rainwater and the man.

“My name is Willa,” she said and stretched her hand out.

He straightened from leaning against the counter and took a few strides forward before clasping her trembling digits with his enormous hulk hand. “Lon,” he said.

She sucked in a quick breath as another wave of heat flowed from the contact. “Lon?”

He nodded. “Lon.”

They stood and studied each other, and Willa wished she could teleport away from the awkwardness. Part of her didn’t want this moment to end; she didn’t want his large, warm hand to let hers go. Then, sadly, it did, and her arm fell to her side.

“Why don’t we have a seat?” Lon suggested and lifted his chin toward the counter-height table and chairs a few feet away. “I’d like to hear about Jenny.”

She nodded and took the seat closest to the door. Her raging hormones might zing around in tune with the storm, but her brain set off a cacophony of warning bells. The man’s confidence and his comfortable demeanor around her aunt’s place might put her at ease, but he was still a stranger.

“You asked me where Jenny was,” Lon asked. He took the dish towel from the stove handle and placed it on the opposite seat before sitting down. The move so fluid, it came across well practiced. Had he sat here soaking wet with her aunt as well?

“Yes.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Do you know where she is?”

Lon sighed and glanced out the window again. “No. As I already pointed out, I wouldn’t come looking for her here if I knew she was someplace else.”

His words made sense, and a bit of her fear dissipated. The circumstances of his presence might be odd, but he wasn’t here to harm her. But why was he here then? Why visit her aunt at such a late hour? Something wasn’t quite right about him and this situation. Willa snapped her mouth shut and looked at the table top. She’d eaten oatmeal in this very spot this morning and had missed a spot when cleaning up.

Her brain kept telling her something was off, but her body wanted to leap across the table and stick to him like a limpet. Her warring emotions created a dull throb behind her eyes. Or was that from the door smacking her in the face? Or the hard tiles she landed on? She picked at the dried oatmeal and shook her head.

“Willa?”

“Hmm?” she asked, still picking at the oatmeal. George would never stand for such uncleanliness.

“Willa!”

“What?” She glanced up and froze as the intensity of his gaze hit her.

“What’s going on?”

Her shoulders sagged and she gave up on the oatmeal, gave up on any hint of normalcy. She’d kept hoping this was some horrible dream, and her aunt would come waltzing through the door any minute. Talking to the cops had been difficult, but admitting the truth to this stranger, this friend of her aunt’s, made it feel even more real.

“She’s missing,” she said. Her voice caught and her breathing hitched. Tears welled up and she squeezed her eyelids shut to prevent them from falling. No way would she cry in front of a stranger.

“Missing?” His body tensed.

She nodded, eyes still shut, and explained, “She’s been missing for about five weeks. As far as we can tell, no one has seen or heard from her since her last customer, Tess Highland, left the shop on May twentieth, and Aunt Jenny closed up shortly afterward. Tess heard her lock the door, and frankly, if Tess knew anything, the whole town would know it, too. No one has heard from her.”

“No one?” His eyes, which had widened at first, now narrowed and studied her face.

“No one. It’s as if she vanished. No cell phone activity, no banking. Nada.” Willa clasped her mug and bent her head. Months ago, her aunt offered her refuge after George left. She’d refused, but Aunt Jenny was the only family member not telling her to “suck it up,” that it was all her fault, or if she’d known how to take care of a man, he would never have left.

Lon reached out and brushed her hand. “Who’s Tess Highland?”

Willa bit back the sigh wanting to escape her lips from the brief skin-on-skin contact. Gentle waves swooshed up her arms and paralyzed her with need. She gaped at him a little before she recalled his question. “J-just a regular customer who chats…chatted with my aunt. She’s a bit of a town gossip, but her story checks out. After talking with Aunt Jenny, she purchased Scarlette LaFlamme’s Seducing Sarah, and went to work. She’s the sheriff’s secretary.”

“Does Jenny have any known enemies?”

The look she gave him must’ve been answer enough, because he grunted and then drummed his fingers on his mug.

“What about you?” she asked and met his thundercloud eyes. The skin on the hand he’d brushed had turned cold, yearning for him to repeat the gesture. She refused to look at his fingertips and studied his face instead. She watched for lies, but his concern for Aunt Jenny appeared genuine.

“Sorry?”

“What’s your alibi?” she asked, though Lon looked less like a suspect and more like an ally as time progressed.

“Didn’t we already establish I know nothing?” His brows pinched together, making his face more angular. Outrage danced in the gray of his eyes.

The expression contorted his translucent skin, and the flash of otherness, of something off in his face, sent her neurons zinging in her head. Her skin prickled as the tiny hairs on her neck stood up. She leaned forward and squinted, but the moment was gone. Now inches closer, she wanted to hurl her body at his again.

Wow, I hit my head harder than I thought! Willa clutched her mug and sat back in her seat. “You could’ve just said that to throw me off. Maybe you came by to get something of my aunt’s. Why are you here?”

Lon’s lip snarled up. “That’s ridiculous. I could’ve taken whatever I wanted when you knocked yourself out with the door. I came to visit Jenny.”

“Then where’ve you been these last five weeks?”

Lon shifted in his seat. “Around.”

“Around?” Unease flittered up her spine and settled at the base of her skull. Maybe he really had come by for something. Money, clothes. He certainly needed both.

“I travel a lot for work.”

“And what kind of work is that?”

He paused and glanced outside. The storm had died down again, but from her aunt’s stories, she knew the weather could settle for hours before starting up again—the eye of the storm, she’d say.

“I sell weather insurance.”

Willa snorted. Some of her tea bubbled up her nose and she clasped a hand over her face. Liquid dribbled down to her mouth and her cheeks burned.

“Here,” he said and passed her a napkin.

She snatched it out of his hand and cleaned her face off, wanting to die. “Sorry,” she said. Sorry for what? Why did she apologize?

“It’s okay. It really is a bit ironic, given the circumstances. Funny, even.”

She nodded and crumpled the napkin up in her hand. “Thanks for the napkin.”

“My pleasure.” He glanced at the window again and pushed back in his chair. “I’m sorry for intruding on you at such a ridiculous hour. I hope the authorities find Jenny, and if I hear anything, I’ll let you know. She’s a dear friend, and I’d never want anything bad to happen to her.” He moved around the table before she could react to his words.

“Err,” she said.

“I really must go.” He picked up her hand, the non-snotty one, and slowly brought it to his face. He pressed his lips against her knuckles and warm tension replaced her apprehension. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Willa. I hope to see you again.”

He walked straight for the bookstore’s front door and had already walked out before Willa stumble-ran to the front entrance.

“Wait!” she yelled as she flung open the door. “How do I get a hold…” Her question trailed off in the wind. Lon had disappeared into the night.

****

Lon removed his ragged clothes and stored them in the jagged rock face of the cliff before slipping naked into the ocean. The cool water engulfed his body, the icy depths a warm welcome. The other Tempests swirled around him in greeting. With the storm dying down, Lon’s energy had faded fast, abruptly ending his meeting with Willa. One touch of the sea renewed his vigour. The magic making up the fibres of his being tingled and his corporeal form dissolved.

Now he swam amongst his brethren; a current, a tide, a scandalous thought in the ocean’s undertow. His “life force” combined with those of his brothers and gave the body of water its majestic powers. The mundane knew little of it. Not anymore. Humans tried to taint the sea with their garbage, but had yet to succeed. The ocean was the mother of all moderators.

Though he had no physical body in this form, he had memories. He held onto his conscious thoughts as he rode the dying waves into the rocks. One thought kept repeating in his mind, one image.

Willa.

Her intensity from the moment she flung that door open with a look of hope and determination; crazy bed hair and rumpled clothes, bare feet…he took it all in. Even her expression—so radiant at first, then dulled by disappointment. She’d expected someone else.

Willa.

She’d acted so fierce when she’d slammed that door on his face, or at least tried too, yet she seemed so at odds with herself at times. What would render an obviously strong woman so meek and broken?

He swirled around and around and around with his brothers to make a temporary whirlpool. Only a small one, just for fun.

Willa.

No. She couldn’t be broken. Willa contained an inner strength that glowed through her smooth skin. He saw it as clear as her curves through her transparent clothes.

Why would she try to maintain a weak image? What was she trying to hide?

Lon Devlin howled as he rode another wave hard into rocky shoreline.

Did Willa have anything to do with Jenny’s disappearance? When the eye of the storm ended, he planned to find out what happened to his friend.

****

Willa stepped out of the steaming shower and changed into dry pajamas—a baggy t-shirt and George’s old running shorts. One image had replayed in her mind over and over again while she cleaned up…those storm gray eyes and low rumbling voice. Her hands travelled from meticulously washing her hair to sliding down her neck to caress her breasts before slipping down between her legs… She stopped. What was wrong with her? She didn’t even know the man.

Should’ve taken a cold shower.

It took her a lot longer to feel clean. She shouldn’t fantasize about a stranger, no matter how irregular he made her heart beat. His hard edged yet handsome face and those stormy eyes ranging from dark gray to deep, ocean blue spelled trouble. Besides, even if he was interested in a “pip-squeak” like her, it would inevitably lead to failure. George had assured her she sucked in bed.

Well, George might’ve thought her bed skills lacking, but would Lon feel the same way?

She flung the sheets back, ready to slip into bed and drift to sleep, but the serenity of the night beyond the window snagged her attention. The birch trees swayed in the wind and the horizon lightened to a dark blue as predawn approached.

George was out of her life, and lusting after Lon wouldn’t get her any answers. Why’d he come in the middle of the night to pound on her aunt’s door? On a weeknight at that! Didn’t he have to work the next day?

Willa snorted. A weather insurance salesman? Really?

He insisted he knew nothing about Jenny’s whereabouts, but did he have anything to do with her disappearance?

The storm outside died down; the ocean lost its rage and the wind ceased whistling. Willa climbed into bed and turned off the night light. Only the sound of soft lapping waves trickled into her room, flowing over her like a lover’s hands and lulling her to sleep.

She dreamt of Lon, and his large smooth hands doing very, very bad things to her.

****

The morning smelled fresh and clean with the tang of ocean breeze. Willa stretched out of bed and enjoyed the sound of summer. The wildlife always seemed louder after a storm—as if crying their defiance or enjoyment of Mother Nature’s whims—the singing of the tufted titmouse and honking of the red-breasted nuthatch, the visiting Baltimore Orioles chirping along with an Eastern Towhee, the insects buzzing and vibrating the heated air, as the waves gently lapped the shore.

Willa swore one of the birds told her to drink her tea. She smiled and padded down to the kitchen to do just that. Normally, she’d help herself to a cup of coffee or two, but this morning, she craved the drink she’d shared with Lon last night. The spices still lingered on her tongue, bringing back the memory of her night-time visitor and the power of his touch.

With her mug in one hand and her tablet in the other, she sat down to scan the news and check her e-mail. As the tension of the morning seeped from her shoulders, the shrill ring of the phone demolished the tranquil moment.

“Hello,” she said into the old receiver after plucking it from the wall. She used to make fun of her aunt for keeping the thing, with its tangled, extra-long, coiled chord. But now, as she handled the phone, a reassuring warmth spread through her palm at the thought of her aunt.

“Willa.” Her mom’s blunt voice came through the connection as clear as the morning outside.

Willa winced. She needed a pep-talk from her mother about as much as she needed a hammer to the head. “Hi, Mom.”

“Have you finished the month-end finances?”

“I just got here two weeks ago.”

A pause. “I don’t see your point.”

“I’m not even sure I’ve found all the receipts, invoices and bank statements. You know Aunt Jenny, she’s not exactly the most organized.”

“No. She’s a spineless dreamer. You have a lot in common with your father’s sister. It must be genetic.”

The insult would’ve stung had it been the first, or even second or third time Willa had heard it, but her mom held nothing back when it came to expressing her opinion of her youngest daughter. Well, you and my sisters made me this way.

“When can I expect you to e-mail them?” her mom asked.

“I’ll try to get to them today.”

“Don’t try, do.”

“Mom, I—”

“If you spent half the time doing as you were told instead of whining, you’d probably have the job done by now.”

Wow. What would her mother and sisters think if they knew she’d spent time entertaining a handsome late-night visitor instead of balancing the books? “I wasn’t whining. I wanted to know if the police had contacted you. Have you heard anything about Aunt Jenny?”

Her mom went silent on the other side of the line. Willa could imagine her clutching the cell phone with a death grip and pursing her lips. She used to wonder what she’d done to piss off her mother so much. Now, she just wanted to be left alone.

“Are you so eager to foist off your aunt’s store on someone else?” her mom finally asked.

“What? No!” How could her mom even think that? “I want to know Aunt Jenny is okay.”

“Humph. Well, we’ll see about that. If you want to help your aunt out, you’ll do a better job of running her business. That bookstore turned a profit every year since she started, surprising for such a dilapidated, hinky place.” Her mom sneered the word bookstore. “Full of fluff-heads. You need to report your sales to me daily.”

Mom had never managed to say the name of the store, The Shucker’s Booktique. Found it beneath her, and “fluff-heads” in her mom’s own words were people who didn’t take life seriously. Or as Willa decided, people who had a sense of humour and found enjoyment in life.

“Yes, Mom,” Willa replied. “I’ll send an e-mail.”

“Yes, you will. And stop sounding so upset about it. You should thank me for sending you down there instead of one of your sisters. They would’ve been more capable, but they have families. They have lives.” She snorted. “It’s not like you had anything worth sticking around for in Lewiston. Not after George left.”

“Mom…” Willa closed her eyes, knowing instinctively where this conversation headed, yet powerless to stop it.

“What? If you knew how to keep a man, you wouldn’t be thirty and alone. You’ll end up like your aunt. You should ask your sisters for advice. Maybe one of them can help you.”

Willa took a deep breath. What was the point? In the past, she’d tried to defend herself and her choices, only to get steamrolled by her mom’s indomitable will, or her sisters’. Better to just smile and nod and then, maybe, she’d be left alone. “Yes, Mom.” She nodded. “You’re right, of course.”

“Humph. Well, just make sure you send those e-mails right at close.”

“Okay. Talk to—”

Her mom hung up and the dial tone responded to her instead of her mother’s voice. Her mother. Once Willa had wanted to hear the words “I love you” or “I’m proud of you” come out of her mom’s mouth. Now, Willa knew better. Those words would never come. Her very existence insulted her mom somehow and Willa had resigned herself to accepting she’d never know why.

****

After putting her dishes away and brushing her teeth, Willa flipped the sign over and opened the door to let some fresh air circulate through. She scrolled through her mp3 player to find the right playlist. Today would be a classical day; the perfect music to play along with the chirping birds.

Customers took advantage of the turn in the weather and trickled in to say hello. They all wanted to know how the investigation into Jenny’s disappearance was going and more than a few purchased books—pity purchases, most likely, but if Aunt Jenny ever returned, Willa wanted to have some money waiting for her.

Willa put the feather duster behind the counter, and tapped her fingers on the hard wood surface. She’d walked through every aisle this morning to dust the bindings, but her thoughts kept circling back to Lon and his stormy eyes. His strong hands, and hard body…

Her heart fluttered.

Maybe she should sweep the floor. Again. Anything to keep her mind off her night-time visitor and the feelings he invoked. She could take the books off the shelves one by one and clean behind them. What would she find? More dust? Blood?

Willa shuddered. Her aunt was still missing. She needed to focus on that and do something about it.

When her mother demanded Willa drop everything to help out, she’d been confused. Surely the book business should be the least of their concerns. Wasn’t it a crime scene? But the local police assured her they’d already scoured the little shop and found no signs of foul play. After a lengthy interrogation, they allowed her access to The Shucker’s Booktique.

Despite knowing her mom wanted a piece of the profits, Willa decided her presence here might turn out to be a good thing. Maybe she could find something if she stayed. Maybe her aunt would return to the shop, and if she did, Willa wanted to be here for her. So Willa had agreed to run the bookstore. Her mother was right on one account—with George already out of the picture, she didn’t leave much behind; just an office job, and an idiot of a boss.

The bells rang as Betty Quinn, the owner of the Sea Crest Inn, walked through the front door. The other bookstore in Lobster Cove sat on the same property as Betty’s Inn, so when Willa first met Betts two weeks ago, she’d expected some animosity or rivalry, but the older woman had been warm and welcoming. Motherly, if Willa had a good example to go by.

Betts nodded at the other customers as she made her way to Willa at the counter. “Ms. McCorkle is under the weather today,” she said. “I’m looking for one of those old romance books she loves so much. Do you recommend anything?”

“Has she read the latest Scarlette LaFlamme?”

“Of course that Irish biddy has,” Betts replied with a laugh. “Do you have anything else?”

“I know just the thing.” Willa smiled. “Follow me.” She stepped out from behind the counter and led Betts to the back corner of the store. The books in this section had covers of half-naked, long-haired men in lunge positions with distraught women throwing their Regency-clad bodies against them. Willa had a hard time believing in fairy tale romances. Her only serious relationship certainly hadn’t ended with a happily ever after, but the books were perfect for Ms. McCorkle.

“Perfect,” Betts echoed her thoughts and then scanned through the used books. “You look a bit pensive, dear. What’s on your mind?”

“You’re a Covian, right? Your family’s been here for generations. Do you have any clue to Scarlette LaFlamme’s real identity?”

Betts laughed and shook her head. “No, and if I knew, Ms. McCorkle surely would’ve badgered it out of me. She’s been on me for years for secrets I don’t possess.” She fingered the bindings of the old romance novels and walked a few steps away. “Are you sure it’s LaFlamme you wanted to ask about?”

Willa glanced around to find them alone in the book aisle. Well, with Ms. McCorkle sick, no one else would be in this corner of the bookstore, anyway. “I need to get a hold of a…customer…from yesterday. But I only know his first name. I thought maybe, with your knowledge of everyone in town…”

“That I might know him? It’s a possibility. What’s his name?”

“Lon.”

She shook her head. “Odd name. Doesn’t ring a bell. Means ‘fierce’ in Gaelic, right?”

Willa shook her head. She had no clue, but it fit.

“Describe him for me.” Betts pulled out a book and glanced at the cover before flipping it over.

“Really tall, lots of muscles, face like…like it was carved from porcelain rocks by the ocean. He had these eyes…they looked like thunderclouds.” Willa wrung her hands together as a wave of heat swept through her body. Even now, with Lon nowhere in sight, she wanted him.

Betts turned to her with large rounded eyes and parted lips that formed an O.

Willa coughed into her fist. “Tall, muscular, black hair, gray eyes. Do you know him?”

“Did he look like this, dear?” Betts held up a book with a dark-haired, bare-chested hero with a pirate ship wrecked on the beach behind him. His chest and abs well-defined as if sculpted from rocks, chiseled cheekbones, a straight Greek nose and piercing eyes that radiated sexual heat from the worn cover.

Willa cleared her throat. “Yeah, that kind of nails it.” She took a step away and reordered some of the books. Her cheeks burned and she hoped Betts couldn’t see through her innocent question to the lust raging underneath. God! She didn’t even know this man. “Minus the pirate gear, of course.”

“Of course. But I don’t think I know him.” The older woman shook her head again and after reading the back cover of a few books, she waved one in the air. “This will do nicely.”

They walked back to the counter in silence.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” Willa asked before ringing up Betts’ purchase.

“No, dear. I’m sorry I don’t know your Lon. I’m sure from your description I would remember such a man.”

“He’s not my Lon,” she said, maybe a little too quickly. Heat spread across Willa’s cheeks again as she fumbled to bag the woman’s purchase. Betts had seen straight through her question, all right.

The woman chuckled. “He must be something.”

“Um, yeah. He left an impression.” Willa handed Betts the bag without meeting her gaze.

“If I see your gentleman, I’ll let him know you’re looking for him.”

“What? No! That’s not why…I just wanted… Oh never mind.” Willa’s shoulders sank, and Betts flashed her a knowing smile before walking out of the store.

Maybe if Willa knew more about Lon besides his first name. Surely, he’d have been seen by others if he’d been good friends with Aunt Jenny.

Or did he always visit at night? During horrendous thunderstorms?

Another pang streaked through her chest, and she wheezed out a breath. He said he wasn’t Jenny’s lover. Why did she still feel pain at the idea of him spending time with her aunt? He’d known her long before he met Willa.

Steeling herself against her lusting body, she moved from around the counter to help an older man with white hair and a slightly stooped posture with his purchase. He wanted a book for his granddaughter who’d just moved to Canada with her family. Willa smiled and handed him Robert Munsch’s 50 Below Zero.

He chuckled and nodded.

While Willa rang up his purchase, she thought of her aunt. Why would she leave this place? Without a word, without money and without a struggle. Her aunt might be a quiet recluse, but surely she would’ve put up some sort of fight.

Willa handed the man his purchase with a smile.

“That man,” he leaned in and whispered. “The one you asked Betty Quinn about?”

Willa’s body snapped to attention and her nails dug into the wood counter. “Yes?”

“I’ve seen him,” he said. “Always down by the water.”

“Do you know him?”

“No,” the man said, and then he leaned in. “Seems like the dangerous sort. I’d keep my distance if I were you.” He held up the bag and nodded in thanks before sauntering out of the store, leaving Willa more torn than ever.

She needed to learn more about Lon…Lon whatever-his-last-name-was.

****

The old man’s warning rang through Lon’s incorporeal form. The stooped figure stood ankle-deep in the lapping water in the early afternoon and spoke in a low, rumbling voice. Who was this guy? The old man certainly knew all about Lon.

It wasn’t taboo, per se, for others to know about him and his brothers. Lots of supernatural creatures existed and something about this man’s energy and the way it crackled in the ocean told him the old man might be in the “other” category like himself.

Lon’s brothers swirled around the stranger’s feet in question, but Lon told them to leave the man alone. Unless he posed a direct danger to exposing the existence of Tempests, he’d be safe, just like Jenny had been. She’d figured out Lon’s secret from reading one of her blasted books, not from Lon. The distinction mattered.

He couldn’t tell anyone of his otherness unless he bound his life to them. Disclosure was forbidden, and no one crossed the Sea God without punishment. Despite dire warnings, it had happened before; a Tempest, wild with lust, divulged their secret to his lover, only to disappear. Poof! His very existence eradicated from the ocean by their lord and master. Nobody crossed the God of the Sea.

Bonding was the only acceptable option, but it meant maintaining a human form for the duration of his life. He’d lose immortality and the ability to take the Tempest form except during a storm. No riding the tides with his brothers, no constant motion or travel.

Lon flowed with the gentle undertow away from the man and his warnings. He sighed at the simple thrill shivering through his wispy, ethereal form.

No, not happening. No way would he give this up.

But Willa had been asking about him. He needed to find out what she knew about Jenny’s disappearance and stop her from discovering his true nature. He dove farther into the depths of the ocean and felt the rising energy as the ring of towering thunderstorms drew closer with each circular twist.

He’d see Willa soon.

And then he’d get some answers.

****

A loud crash of thunder rocked the old house and stirred up the scents from the summer morning. A streak of lightning followed an instant later, flashing white and orange across Willa’s vision as though she lay directly under the storm, instead of her bedroom’s ceiling. Another loud boom rattled the furniture.

The wind howled through the birch leaves and rain pounded the road outside and rooftops. In the distance, the eerie low moan of a foghorn announced a ship coming home in the dark stormy night.

Looks like Mother Nature is back with a vengeance. Willa cast her bedding aside. She couldn’t sleep. She kept thinking of Lon, and this time she’d woken to find herself rubbing against her traitorous hand. She must’ve slipped it between her legs in her sleep.

Gah!

A handsome face had never made her feel like this before—like running down the streets until she found him. Crazy thoughts! If she couldn’t hold onto a man like George, what the heck would she do with Lon? Her attraction to an almost complete stranger defied normalcy.

She padded down the stairs, flicked on the lights and turned on the kettle. Maybe she held a masochistic streak, wanting to drink more of the tea that reminded her of Lon. Once she plopped the tea bag in her cup—a sacrilegious tea method according to her mother—she sat down and inhaled the bevy of herbal scents. The steam lifted off the tea and warmed her face, and the tension eased from her shoulders.

She’d closed up shop a bit early and spent some time cleaning up the backyard. The destructive storm had ravaged the trees and Willa had spent hours clearing birch branches and raking leaves. With the wind howling outside again, had it even been worth it?

She wished there was more she could do for the sad-looking trees. They stood so tall and willowy, defying the harsh summer heat, and she found herself talking to them like an idiot, as if they were people, not bark and sap. Now they were probably getting another good thrashing and Willa’s muscles ached from the effort.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

No! She gasped. It couldn’t be. The banging on the front door of the booktique had to be a figment of her imagination. She couldn’t will Lon into existence. Why would he come back? Especially if he was involved. Unless…cold ice prickled up her spine…unless he needed to eliminate her.

No. Crazy thoughts, Willa. He could’ve taken care of her the night before. No, her heart hammered against her chest for a different reason. But it didn’t matter. The knocking on the door wouldn’t, couldn’t be him.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

Could it? She clutched her hot mug in both hands and turned toward the doorway leading to the bookstore. From the kitchen in the back room, she had a clear view through the store to the front door, but not who stood on the other side.

“Willa!” Lon growled. “Wake up and let me in!”

Willa gasped and almost dropped her cup. The tea sloshed around, and some spilled over her hands. It burned, but she didn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. Somehow the air got trapped inside her throat. Why was he here? What did he want?

Oh god, let it be me!

She bit her lip. Foolish woman! He wouldn’t want someone so plain. Maybe he had news of her aunt. She set her cup down on the table and scrambled to the booktique’s front door.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

“Willa! It’s hailing!” Lon yelled.

“Shush,” she hissed back. “I’m coming.” She flicked on the lights, unbolted the door and swung it open.

Lon stood with his arms at his sides, pelted by large, marble-sized balls of hail. His hair lay plastered to his face and his storm gray eyes burned with each lightning flash.

Kiss him! Willa’s breath caught in her throat and she squashed the undeniable need to haul him to her. Her fingers dug into the cold metal of the doorknob. Where on earth would a thought like that come from? She’d never been aggressive in her life.

“Hi,” Lon said.

“Hi,” she replied.

The hail pelted his body and face as she studied his strong frame. Lon cleared his throat. “Can I come in?”

Willa folded her arms across her chest. “Tell me your full name.”

His lips twitched. His smile quickly turned to a grimace as the hail storm renewed its attack. “Lon Devlin.”

“Middle name?”

He flinched at the hail battering the side of his cheek and shook his head. “I don’t have one.”

“Huh.” She continued to study him, or more accurately, his torso, and the way his shirt clung to his broad chest. His clothes were nicer tonight, or at least had been before the rain got to them. He wore a gray polo shirt, dark form-fitting jeans, white-washed with strategically placed rips for fashion, and designer runners.

Oh god, how she wanted to run her hands down his body.

“Willa?” Lon’s voice rumbled with the thunder.

She jumped and her face warmed. “Oh, sure. Here, please come in.” She moved back and made a large sweeping gesture that would’ve made Vanna White proud.

Lon brushed passed her, carrying the fresh smell of the sea in his wake. She shut the door with both hands and took a long breath before turning around.

“Are you okay?” Lon walked ahead and then pivoted to study her from the center of the bookstore.

“Fine.” She smoothed errant hair out of her face with a shaky hand. Could he tell how much she wanted him? God, she hoped not. She needed to be strong and get information out of this man. Who was he? What did he want? And did he know anything that could help her find Jenny?

Lon continued to stare her down as if the sheer force of his gaze would bring forth some unknown truth from the depths of her soul.

Willa stared back. While she attempted to exude defiance on the outside, her insides quelled at such an antic. George would never have stood for it. And her mother…no, there was no defying her mother. Her tongue proved more dangerous than the wooden spoon she used to pummel Willa’s butt with when she’d “misbehaved.”

The tension on Lon’s face eased into a smile. “We need to talk.”

“What kind of weather insurance salesman wanders around in the middle of the night, without proper clothes or a car?” She’d crossed her arms again and quickly dropped them to her sides.

“I never said I was good at it.” He nodded toward the back of the bookstore. “Look, can we sit down and talk?”

Neither of them moved.

“I’m not sure what good that will do,” she said.

“Why’s that?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Well, I don’t know anything, and neither, apparently, do you, so we’re just going to talk around each other and be no closer to finding my aunt than before.”

Lon pursed his lips. “I see the problem.”

“What do you want?” she asked.

Instead of asking for clarification, Lon tilted his head and paused, as if hearing something in the wind besides the storm howling. “I want to know what happened to Jenny. She’s a dear friend, and I’d never wish harm to come to her.”

The tension eased from Willa’s shoulders, and she studied the strong man in front of her. He could have barged into this place at any time and harmed her, but he hadn’t. He could’ve stolen whatever he wanted, but hadn’t. He could’ve lied to her about everything, but minus the salesman line…he hadn’t.

Huh? How did she know that?

Why did his words sound and feel so truthful? Like they wrapped around her and comforted her with how right they were?

She knew he spoke the truth. She bit her lip and then nodded. “I want to find out what happened to Jenny, too.”

“What do you suggest?”

Willa opened her mouth and then shut it. She hadn’t been asked for her opinion in…forever. “I…uh…”

Lon tilted his head again and took a couple of steps toward her. “You’re a smart girl. I’m sure you don’t intend to just sit in this store and twiddle your proverbial thumbs. What do you plan to do?”

Her heart fluttered at the compliment. With a warm face, she looked down at her laced fingers. “I was going to search Aunt Jenny’s study.”

“You haven’t already?”

His tone held no accusation, only surprise, but it still cut. Willa’s head snapped up. “I haven’t had time! I dropped my life to come here and had to get my feet under me with the booktique first.”

Lon held his hands up in surrender. “Willa, it’s okay. I’m just surprised, is all. Haven’t the police searched?”

Willa nodded. “Yeah, they made a mess of the place. I’ve spent more time cleaning and doing inventory than anything else.”

“I thought Jenny had a large family. Why aren’t more of them here helping out?”

“They all have lives,” she mumbled.

“What?” he asked.

Oh crap. He heard her! She hadn’t meant to speak so loudly, but whenever she thought of her family, that familiar anger boiled up from her core. She lifted her chin and met his gaze. “According to my mom, I’m a complete failure as a daughter and woman. My fiancé left me for my best friend, so I’m unmarried and childless at thirty. My sisters all have families, and their time is apparently more valuable, as is my mom’s.” Despite snapping the words at Lon, she wanted him to know the truth. His mere presence seemed to draw it out of her.

His eyes widened at first, but then a deep rumble filled the room, as if the storm had moved inside. Lon stood with his feet planted shoulder width apart, muscles tense, fists clenched. The air stirred and whirled in a mini-tornado around him, flashing blue and silver,

No, that’s not right.

She squinted and leaned forward. The air didn’t move in streams, nor did it flash colours. Lon certainly didn’t emit rumbling sounds like thunder.

What the heck?

Maybe she had suffered a concussion. She really should go to see a doctor if she kept seeing things.

As she watched, he took a slow breath in and smiled at her. It was the first time since they’d met, that his flash of pearly whites came across insincere. He shimmied his shoulders a little and took the final steps forward to reach her. His hand slowly rose to gently take her own.

Despite his skin being chilled from the weather outside, warmth flooded her body from the contact.

“Forget about your family. Let’s go see what we can find,” he said and gave her a little tug.

****

The stairs groaned under Lon’s weight, but he wanted to echo the sound. He watched Willa, transfixed, as she moved up the stairs ahead of him. Her skinny jeans left nothing to his imagination. Energy flowed through his body. He’d been right—heart-shaped and firm. He could cup each cheek while he buried his head between…

“I have to warn you,” Willa said as they reached to second floor and turned the corner to the hallway.

He started and jerked his attention to her face. Had she busted him?

“It’s quite a mess,” Willa continued with no malice.

No, she’d missed it. Lon shrugged and swept his arm out for her to lead. He wanted her to take the initiative. He hated the look she’d worn earlier. If her family had been present, he’d have used all his power to pummel them into the hardwood floors. She might’ve talked with a flat frankness, but he’d seen the hurt in her eyes, and the pain in her heart. The vibrations of her soul validated the truth in her words, and his own essence strained to reach out and comfort her, twine his silver and blue with her gold and purple. Fuck. He wanted to do more than just twine their auras.

They’d reached one of the spare rooms, and Lon studied Willa’s world-class ass sway as she pushed the door open. He followed and then lurched to a stop. She hadn’t been kidding. “Wow.”

Jenny’s study looked like the storm outside had raged for days in the large space, minus the rain and hail. Papers, books and half turned boxes littered the floor. His friend had always smiled when she used the term “study” when she referred to her personal library. Jenny had spent the majority of her time here with her nose stuck in a book.

“I know.” Willa ran her hand through her chestnut hair and winced when her fingers brushed the spectacular bruise on her forehead. “I warned you.”

He nodded and clenched his teeth at the sight of her purple skin. His fault. He took a deep breath and surveyed the room again. The mess didn’t fit Jenny or Willa. “Did the police do this?”

“Yup. Apparently before they searched the house, the place had been immaculate. According to the cops, at least. Pretty surprising. My aunt’s known to drift to the flaky side when it comes to organization. She must’ve cleaned up right before she vanished.”

“Anything missing?”

Willa rolled her eyes.

Despite her response, Lon smiled. He’d been looking forward to seeing her amber eyes and freckles. Ever since the depths of the ocean had swirled up again to meet the churning in the sky to confirm the second half of the storm was on its way, Lon had vibrated with anticipation. His brothers had played in the streams of energy pulsating from his sprite form. “Did I ask that already?”

“Honestly? I don’t know. I’ve heard the question so often that I’m not sure who’s asked and who hasn’t.”

“Fair enough. Where shall we start?” He brushed his new jeans. When he’d found new clothes folded neatly in his hiding spot—just his size—he’d been surprised. They didn’t smell like the old man, only sea water and bark. Odd. But for some reason, he felt no malice in the gesture. Having better-fitting clothes to meet Willa bolstered his confidence and made him feel good. Not that she seemed to notice or was the type to care about appearances.

Willa’s eyes bulged, and then her cheeks reddened before she looked away.

What just happened? What did he do wrong? He only asked her where to start...

Then understanding hit him like the Sky God’s lightning bolt and the anger drowning Lon earlier spiraled up again. Had no one ever asked her that before? Had she never taken the lead? In life? In love? In…bed? Lon grunted and nudged a box out of the way with his foot.

“Let’s start sorting the paper,” she said with a shaky voice. “Business and personal. Since there’s not much in the way of bookstore crime, if anything bad happened to my aunt, I’m guessing it was personal.”

“Smart.”

A lovely rose flushed across her cheeks. He liked the colour on her.

What he didn’t like was the colossal disaster in Jenny’s study. He turned a box over and started rifling through the paper. All business invoices. He knelt down and piled the papers together neatly. When he looked over his shoulder, he found Willa studying him.

With lips parted, her hand traced a gentle line down her body, jaw to chest. Her energy vibrated a hot, heavy red. When their gazes met, the fire in her eyes scorched his retinas.

Could it be? She’d said she was thirty and single. Her tone had been bitter, but her words had sent blood rushing through his body.

Willa dropped her gaze and moved to the opposite corner of the room. She opened an empty box and started fiddling with some papers, but it was too late. He’d seen her desire.

The intensity of her look made him want to grab her. But he didn’t. His muscles tensed and the box he held groaned as he clutched it and squeezed. She’d have to come to him on her own terms. After so many people in her life had railroaded her, he refused to be another.

Only a man-child would be blind to the gift Willa was and not realize the value of what he had. If Lon had been born mortal, things would be different. But he hadn’t. He existed as a Tempest. His life was the ocean, not the striking woman in front of him.

“So tell me about this ex-fiancé of yours,” he said, his voice more gravelly than usual.

Though she faced away, her whole body tensed and her hands froze on a piece of paper.

Lon cringed. “Sorry. Probably not the best conversation starter.”

“Don’t be.” She shrugged. “He left me for my best friend. There’s nothing to tell.”

“I disagree. Obviously the man is an idiot. What happened?”

Willa sighed and finally turned to face him. He didn’t need to read her energy or see the pained expression to know this part of her past hurt her.

Idiot! Lon cursed himself. Maybe if he swept her off her feet and showed her real appreciation, the hurt would go away.

No. No. No. Wait for her to make the move.

“I don’t know,” Willa said. “I did everything he wanted, the way he wanted, and it still wasn’t enough.”

The paper crinkled in Lon’s fist. He took a deep breath before speaking. “Maybe that was the problem.”

“So you think it’s my fault, too?”

“Not at all. But you can’t go through life doing what others want. When was the last time you did something for yourself?”

She paused and ran her hand through her hair again. She seemed to do that when she was nervous.

“And don’t tell me when you got your hair or nails done, that doesn’t count.” He might live most of his life in the ocean, but sprites benefitted from the knowledge surrounding them. A lot of major cities lined the sea. “When was the last time you did something, anything, just for you?”

“I…I don’t know.” She bit her lip.

“That’s not right,” he said. And he meant it. Despite the inherent strength he saw in her soul, a part of her was broken from the mistreatment. Her mom, her ex…why would anyone treat this woman that way? Why wouldn’t her sisters defend her? Her dad had passed away more than two decades ago, he’d learned that much from Jenny, but nothing explained the rest of the family’s response to Willa. There didn’t appear to be a mean bone…

His gaze snagged on her pinched face; flushed red, eyes blazing, lips pressed together in a flat line. Oh, wow! She clenched her fists and stalked toward him.

“Don’t you dare!” she spat.

“What?” He dropped the papers from his hands, completely surprised, and a little turned on by her anger. One moment she’d been sad and the next, infuriated. About time. Willa needed to come into her own and speak up for herself.

“Don’t you dare judge me.” She flailed her hands against his chest. “You don’t even know me.”

He grabbed both her balled fists and held them to his body. “But I want to.”

Willa froze as he bent his head to get closer to those bow-shaped lips.

“I want to know all of you,” he said.

****

Lon’s words coursed through Willa’s body, awakening a heady need deep within. The anger riding her earlier washed away as a tsunami of desire rolled through her. She felt weak and strong at the same time, and she wanted nothing more than to rip her hands from his grasp and yank his face to hers. His eyes churned with an inner storm; swirls of gray, dark blue and swamp green surrounded dilated pupils. Nobody could have eyes like that, could they? He seemed to stare right down to the marrow of her bones, as if he really saw her, as if he knew her already, despite being an almost complete stranger.

A stranger.

She didn’t know this man. What was she thinking? She couldn’t kiss him. Her aunt was missing for goodness sake. How could she even entertain the idea of…of being with a man in Aunt Jenny’s study? She shook her head and pushed away. He released her hands automatically, but his eyebrows pinched together, giving him a severe otherworldly expression despite his softening eyes. She took a step back, but he remained where he was, a solid temptation only a foot away.

“I…we…we can’t.” She wrapped her arms around her chest.

“Can’t what?”

“Can’t… Oh, never mind.” Heat spread through her face. She turned around and found some papers to pick up with shaky hands. What the heck? She’d almost made a fool of herself. Worse, her body still vibrated with teemed lust. Her eyes struggled to focus on the paper. Invoices. More invoices.

“Willa,” Lon said.

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to imagine how his lips would burn against her own. He shuffled his feet somewhere behind her but she couldn’t turn to meet his gaze. God! He’d know! He’d read her feelings off her body like Aunt Jenny read books. She shook her head and bent to put the business items in an open box.

“Willa!” Lon spoke again, more demanding this time.

Her spine snapped straight and she turned around. Lon stood exactly as he had before, as if only his mouth moved. His hands still hung at his sides, his palms toward her in an unthreatening gesture, as if beckoning her to return to him. He flinched when her gaze met his. and she wondered why his expression turned guilty. Because she’d jumped when he’d raised his voice? Whatever. She was used to people yelling at her and demanding things.

“What?” she asked.

He sighed and his shoulders drooped. “We were only talking.”

“Yeah, sure,” she said and brushed a clump of hair out of her face. Maybe she’d misread the moment. How embarrassing! What if she’d actually tried to kiss him? More warmth spread across her face and she quickly looked away so he wouldn’t see the mad blush she knew blanketed her face.

“Besides,” Lon continued. “I don’t see anyone else in this room.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked and flipped an overturned banker’s box right side up.

“It means…” He paused and took a deep breath. “If you did want something to happen, there’s no reason it couldn’t.”

Willa froze, half bent with an arm stretched out to a pile of books, heart hammering in her chest. She didn’t know what to say. What could she say? Maybe she hadn’t misread anything after all. He looked at her like he wanted to devour her, and a deeply repressed part of her moaned from within, because she wanted him too.

“It means,” Lon continued, taking a step forward, “that we’re two consenting adults. No mom, no sisters, no ignorant ex here to judge or get in our way. You’re a grown woman, Willa. You make your own choices.”

She dropped her hand and straightened. When she met the intensity in Lon’s face, she almost looked away again, but something about his expression, the way his body angled forward, his brows pinched in, his eyes blazed—something about him dared her not to. She squared her shoulders and stared back.

“It’s up to you,” he said.

“Up to me?” she repeated, unsure of the words. What did she want to say? What did she want to do? Oh, heck. She knew what she wanted to do He stood about four feet away. But wants and needs were two different things, right?

“I want nothing more than to kiss those plump lips of yours until you’re begging me to throw you on that pile of books and show you what a real man can do. But I’m not doing a damn thing unless you want me to. You make the move, Willa. You decide.” He put his hands on his hips and waited.

The air sucked out of Willa’s lungs. Her heartbeat thudded in her ears and her palms started to sweat. He wanted to kiss her, he wanted to…oh my! Her body ached for his touch but her stupid brain, her stupid, stupid brain wouldn’t stop parroting that she shouldn’t be doing this, that she couldn’t be. And in her aunt’s book store, no less!

“I think we should find out what happened to my aunt,” she said.

Lon’s full lips thinned into a straight line. “Fine,” he replied. Then something changed. His mouth quirked and his body almost vibrated with energy, as if he gained some unseen power or insight. “Let’s keep looking,” he said.

She nodded and went back to sorting—bills, bills, bills, bank statement, bank statement, bills. All the while, she sensed Lon’s body moving around the room, as if her own was hyper-aware of his.

“Why don’t we get to know each other in a different way?” Lon’s deep rumbling voice broke the silence.

She glanced at him, not daring to meet his powerful gaze. “What do you mean?”

“Why don’t you get some of that weight off your shoulders? Tell me more about your overbearing mom and ass of an ex.”

“How did you—”

“Know your ex was an ass?” he finished for her. “He voluntarily left you. That’s obvious.”

“No, not George. How’d you know my mom was overbearing?”

“I’m Jenny’s friend, remember? She told me about her sister-in-law and crazy nieces.”

“Oh!”

“She never mentioned you, though. Never talked about you. I wonder why.”

“Oh.” Willa’s heart stopped thudding in her chest and sank a little. Aunt Jenny never spoke of her? Why not? Of all her family members, Willa had been the closest to her aunt. Before he died, her father used to call them “two peas in a pod,” despite the statement infuriating her mother.

“Willa, I’m sure she had her reasons. She didn’t speak often about your family, and when she did, her voice filled with anger and hurt, all at the same time. She only let a few things slip. I suspected there was more to the story.” His gaze softened. “She must’ve kept you separate in her words and her heart from the rest of your clan.”

Willa nodded and tried to ignore the sting in her eyes.

“Let’s talk about something that makes you angry, not sad. Tell me about your mother.”

“Hah!” Willa choked. She sniffed and wiped her nose with her sleeve. “She’s always hated me, and I’ve never figured out why.”

****

Lon listened intently as Willa talked about her terrible family. Her energy had been weighed down by her pain, and he hoped talking about it would free her in some way. At first she’d been hesitant to open up, but after a few deep breaths and a few words, she relaxed and vented with passion. The energy around her vibrated, and the tension in her shoulders eased, as if the weight Lon had mentioned truly had been lifted. With each word, Willa appeared happier and calmer. With each word, Lon got angrier and angrier and wanted to smash something with his fist.

Her mom sounded like a horrendous woman who resented Willa since childbirth. Didn’t keep any photos of her, never praised her, never seemed to give a shit about this remarkable woman in front of him. Her ex was no better. Treated her like a personal slave and when he got bored, looked for a new horse to break in.

Willa flashed him a smile and continued to stack the boxes. Some of his rage seeped from his bones and he smiled back. Had he really said he’d show her what a real man could do? What an idiot! If only she knew his true nature. He shook his head and his mood darkened again. No, she could never find out. She’d never accept him if she discovered his identity, and even if she did...even if she did, there was no way he’d give up his freedom, his love for the sea, his abandonment of all pretenses, and the ability to flow with the currents and his brothers.

Still…still, he found himself inexplicably drawn to the woman. He wanted to dive into her depths instead of the thrashing ocean outside.

They’d sorted most of the paperwork, and had only the books left. Their pages probably didn’t contain the answers to Jenny’s disappearance, but Willa and Lon kept working anyway. He didn’t want this night to end, and from the way Willa’s determined brows furrowed as she continued to talk, she didn’t want to stop either.

With the storm raging outside and rain pelting the glass, he still had some time to spend with her. He watched as she moved around the room and bit back the desire to go to her. He said it was her move and he’d meant it.

Willa needed a little self-empowerment, true, but she already had the strength there, just simmering beneath the surface. He’d love to explore every inch of her body and roll around her gold and purple aura as it twirled with his.

“And you know what?” Willa asked, suddenly standing right before him.

“What?” he asked, surprised he hadn’t noticed her approach or that she stood within inches, close enough to grab and kiss.

“You were right,” she said.

“Of course!” He ducked his head down a bit. “But just so we’re clear, what was I right about?”

“There’s no one else in this room but us, and we’re two consenting adults.”

Shock raced through Lon’s body as Willa reached up, clutched his head by his hair and dragged his mouth down to hers.

****

Oh god! His lips felt so good. Like she’d imagined, like she’d dreamt about—full and soft, yet firm and wicked. His arms closed around her, pulling her into the strength of his body. When he sucked her bottom lip, a shiver of pleasure radiated from her core. His tongue slipped into her mouth and caressed her own. So good! She’d never experienced such an explosive kiss. Willa moaned and gripped him harder, her mouth opening wider to taste more, and his tongue answered back.

His hands slid down her back to clutch her bum and he pressed his groin against hers. His erection dug into her. She wanted to rip his pants off and feel the smoothness of his skin. To hell with her mom. Her sisters. George. To hell with them all. She never got what she wanted and she’d be damned if she’d miss out on this. Even if it was just physical. Even if it was only for tonight and this strange, yet handsome drifting insurance salesman disappeared.

She didn’t care. She wanted him.

He ran his hands down her sides, brushing her breasts, before gripping her hips. Waves of heat coursed through her body at his touch.

She’d never lusted after a man like this before, never wanted something so physical. Yet, the moment she stared into those storm-gray eyes, she could think of no one else. She’d felt lost when he disappeared into the night. So silly! This was just a man. Just a man that she wanted inside her, right now.

Lon snuck his hands up her shirt, his fingers smooth icicles against her skin. She jerked, and then relaxed as the coolness soaked into her body like trickles of rain. Her skin ached for more, and when he slipped her shirt off, only momentarily breaking contact from her lips, she knew she’d get it. Heat burned through her body, and her panties grew moist from desire.

Show you what a real man can do, he’d said.

Yes, please!

Every point of contact between her skin and his vibrated with energy, sending searing tingles up her limbs and through her body. She couldn’t get enough. She moved her hands down to grasp his waistband and glanced behind her. Nowhere comfortable to go, no bed handy, but who cared? There was a clear spot to lie down a few steps away. She tugged on his jeans and pulled him in that direction. Lon chuckled against her mouth, then he trailed kisses down her neck to her collarbone. He placed his hands on her hips and let her guide him. He’d probably let her do whatever she wanted.

Willa’s head tipped back and a soft moan escaped her lips as Lon’s mouth moved to her breast. She stepped back again, now determined to feel all this man had to offer, take whatever he gave. Her heel caught on something and she staggered. With her weight unbalanced, she flailed her arms out and groped to catch on to something, but there was only Lon. She clutched at his damp shirt. Lon jerked back, but it was too late. They toppled over in a heavy heap.

Her back slammed against the hardwood panels. Lon somehow snaked an arm underneath to break some of her fall. Her head barely tapped the ground, but an instant throb started at the base of her skull. Lon’s other arm braced against the floor while he dipped his head between her breasts and breathed deeply; in and out, in and out. His forearm must be killing him.

Then his body started to shake. His shoulders trembled, and his breathing hitched. Crap! How badly did he hurt himself? Then she heard it, a deep rumble over the thunder outside.

He was laughing.

****

Lon’s forehead pressed against Willa’s breast as he chuckled. “I hoped to be a bit more graceful. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Willa giggled and squirmed a bit under his hold. “And that was my fault. I tripped on something.”

“Do you make a habit of flailing around?”

“Only since I met you.” She pushed up a bit and he scrambled to get out of the way so she could sit up. They studied one another before breaking out into silly grins. At least that’s how his felt.

“It was that book.” Willa pointed to something at his feet.

“Stupid book,” he said as he watched Willa dive for it. He reached for her but snatched his hand back.

“Look at this thing,” she said as unnatural enthusiasm filled her gaze. “It’s ancient!”

Lon didn’t need to look. He’d caught a glimpse of its gnarled leather binding when she lifted it onto her lap. The twisted energy radiated from the old parchment papers and slithered across his skin. A shiver ran up Lon’s spine like a herd of horses and his skin prickled. Fuck! That blasted book. Jenny’d promised to get rid of it. How had he not sensed its vile presence earlier?

He drew in a breath. He’d been distracted by a beautiful woman. His heartbeat slowed and almost stopped.

Willa used her shirt sleeve to brush off the dust and then read out the title. “The Encyclopedia of Mythical Creatures.”

Her voice echoed in the large room as if announcing his death sentence. In a way, she was. That book marked the end of his time with her. He didn’t think she’d be so open minded and accepting as Jenny, especially when his tongue had been in her mouth. Especially after she’d opened her heart, and he’d kept his secrets.

His chest hollowed out, as if the heart normally beating there simply disappeared. That kiss…that kiss changed everything for him. The way their auras combined and swirled together…overwhelming perfection. He hadn’t wanted the kiss to end. Still didn’t.

“Oh look!” Willa exclaimed, and thumped his arm. The girl packed a bit of a punch. “She’s marked a few pages.”

His brain felt like a shriveled apple core behind his eyes. He sucked a deep breath in and stood up. “Oh yeah?” he asked, going for nonchalant, but his voice sounded empty to his ears. Willa didn’t notice. The book had its own power and drew her in. The same power that would sap his energy and drain him if he held it for too long.

Willa’s beautiful amber eyes glanced at him, full of light and excitement before going back to read the old pages. She flipped open the heavy cover. A small dust cloud floated up from the pages. The thing remained dirty no matter how many times Jenny had wiped it clean. Its words, once spoken, would ring true to the reader.

Lon squeezed his eyes shut and dreaded the moment he knew fast approached. The moment he’d have to leave, the moment she’d demand it. He’d go, too. Willa’s strength had grown in the short time he’d known her and he would never do anything to crush it. Not at this crucial moment in her self-empowerment. She deserved that.

His heart thudded in his chest, and his muscles tensed more with each flip of the page. If only he could teleport himself back into the ocean right now.

Just grab the book! Throw it away and get one last kiss. Lon shook his head at his own thoughts and waited. He couldn’t risk touching the book.

“Look! This one’s got your name on it.” Willa beamed up at him. Her soft chestnut hair framed her freckled face. “She must’ve wanted to show it to you.”

Lon pursed his lips before returning her smile, but Willa’s attention had already returned to the old parchment paper. She pulled the blue sticky note from the page, careful not to do any damage. She couldn’t. The book contained its own power and not even fire could harm it, let alone the glue from a piece of stationary.

“Look at this artwork.” Willa leaned back so he could take in the watery scene. To Willa’s mortal eyes, she’d see an artist’s depiction of the ocean with white, blue and gray wisps playing in the curve of a wave; to Lon the picture moved. Long rolling waves with water sprites dancing in the currents and undertows, squealing with delight.

“‘Tempest’,” Willa read. “‘A water sprite who can only take human form during storms. Ruled by the God of the Oceans, who has many names. Water sprites are small flows of energy vaguely taking a human shape in miniature. They ride the tides, waves, and undertows of the ocean and feed off the energy from the movement of water. Although they do the bidding of their Sea God, they are relatively harmless unless defending their god or the knowledge of their…’” She gulped. “‘…existence. They have been known to drown fair maidens to delight in their beauty…’” Her voice trailed off, and her shoulders sagged. “Why would Aunt Jenny mark this with your…”

Willa’s chest rose and fell with each deliberate breath. The book’s energy flowed into her body and understanding shone in her amber gaze. She glanced at his face and then at the storm raging outside, then back again. Thunder rolled and lightning flashed in the dark ink of night. The squeals of his brothers drifted off the ocean and travelled in the wind.

Her fingers tightened their hold on the book, her back straightened, her muscles tensed. There it was, the fear. Willa’s eyes sought his, round and wide. Her bottom lip trembled and then something else flew through her expression, something dark and angry.

“You!” She bit out. The one word an accusation and demand at the same time. She clambered to her feet and hauled the book up with her. She looked like an enraged witch ready to read out of her grimoire and curse him to hell.

Lon did the only thing he could. He spun on his heel and ran.

****

Willa couldn’t believe it. She had trusted this stranger. She’d let him put his hands on her. She’d sucked his face as if he was the last drop of water in a desert. What had come over her? Even now, she wanted to run after him and call him back. The book said relatively harmless, unless protecting their identity. Her aunt had bookmarked the page and wrote Lon’s name on it. The pieces fell together. Willa had only seen Lon during a storm. His face held that pale, otherworldly appearance, and when she’d seen his expression as the lightning streaked outside, she knew. It took less than a minute for her to realize the truth, and she wanted to scream.

Willa clutched the book to her chest in Jenny’s study and shrieked into the night. Though drowned out by the thunder, her cry released some of the chaos inside her head. She felt better, more collected. She closed the book and gently placed it on the shelf.

A water sprite? Really? Had she hit her head harder than she thought? Maybe she’d imagined Lon altogether and she really lay in a coma in some hospital bed somewhere. But that kiss… No, that kiss had touched something deep inside her. Lon was real.

But a water sprite?

If…if what the book said was true, if Lon and other supernatural beings existed, did it connect to Aunt Jenny’s disappearance? Did Lon harm her to keep the truth secret?

No. Despite what she’d just learned about Lon, a part of her still protested, still believed his innocence. But if he didn’t have anything to do with Jenny’s disappearance, why did he run?

Maybe he ran because he knew she’d feel betrayed.

Maybe he ran because he didn’t want to face her questions.

Maybe he ran because he was a guilty son of a bitch. But then…if he was guilty…why didn’t he just make her disappear, too?

Huh.

Willa folded her arms over her chest and plunked down to sit on the floor, in the very spot she would’ve made love with Lon. He hadn’t acted guilty of Jenny’s disappearance and if she asked her heart, she knew the thudding piece of muscle would profess his innocence as well. But if he didn’t do it, who did? Willa glanced at the thick book. Lon’s page wasn’t the only one marked with a sticky note.

Did her aunt disappear because she’d learned the truth about someone else?

****

In her former life, Willa had both Saturday and Sunday off, but with the bookstore having no other employees, she now only got Mondays to herself.

She used to despise the first day of the work week—it meant slogging to work only to be ordered around by her useless boss. Once he’d asked her to piece together a receipt he’d accidentally ripped up so he could claim it on his expenses. Another time, he’d called her from his friend’s office on the third floor and asked her to fetch a printer cartridge. When she arrived, he’d pointed to the printer and then asked if she “knew what to do.” She wanted to throttle him, but bit back her natural response. Like so many other things in her life, she put up with his behavior.

Maybe she would’ve fought her mom more about coming here if she’d loved her job; but despite the great pay and working her butt off to land the position, she hated it.

Willa rolled over in bed and stretched, enjoying the release of tension. The birds sang their sweet songs outside, and a gentle breeze moved through the tree branches, rustling the leaves.

A calm day, already warming under the summer sun, and in complete contrast to the raging storm of emotions flooding her mind. Fear, confusion, disbelief, and yes, lust, flickered through her body as last night’s events resurged.

She would’ve been waking up beside Lon had everything had gone well. But it hadn’t. She’d downed three cups of tea last night trying to calm her nerves; every tap of a branch, every howl of wind or crash of thunder, made her wonder if an army of water sprites had arrived to kill her fairy-style. Now that she knew the truth, would she be safe?

But nobody had come, and with heavy limbs, she’d finally clambered up to bed and flopped face first onto her soft pillow and cushy mattress. By that point, the fear had dissipated, and she’d accepted what really upset her.

Lon had told her aunt the truth, but not her. Despite dishing her heart out the whole night and a strong connection defying their limited time together, he’d kept his secret.

Good enough to kiss, but not trust. That stung.

Although her brain’s survival instincts kicked in sometimes, Lon didn’t give her a dangerous vibe. He gave her something entirely different, and like an idiot, she’d fallen for it.

She wished…she wished…Gah!

Right now she wished she hadn’t drank three cups of tea. Her early morning routine of staying in bed and enjoying the sheer laziness, was interrupted by the very tangible need to relieve her bladder. She threw her blankets off and sprinted to the bathroom.

When she finally dressed and made her way downstairs, a firm knock at the store’s front door made her jump and almost miss a step. With the sun blazing in the clear blue skies, it couldn’t be Lon.

Not Lon. Her shoulders sagged and the truth of the moment dug a pit in her stomach. She shuffled slowly to the entrance of the store and wished she’d run a brush through her hair. At least she’d done her teeth.

A police officer studied her as she opened the door. He stood tall at around six feet, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. His name tag read HARRIS in bold white lettering. Brown hair poked out from under his hat and matching brown eyes softened when she met his gaze.

“Hello, ma’am. Are you Ms. Willa Eklund?” His voice held a steely quality.

“Y...yes,” she replied. Her heart leapt into her throat and stuck there. She wanted to know what the cop had to say, but at the same time, she didn’t want to hear the truth.

“Ms. Eklund, I’m Officer Harris. I wanted to stop by to let you know that we’re still looking into your aunt’s disappearance.”

“Oh!” She sagged into the door frame. “I thought you had…bad news.”

“Bad news? Oh! No. Sorry to scare you, ma’am. We don’t have any leads. Nothing’s come up with her banking, she left her cell phone on these premises, and no one has come forward with any information.” The man’s expression softened even more. He was a lot nicer than the cranky, older cop she’d dealt with when she first arrived.

The older man had found it odd her family’s first priority had been to keep the shop running. Despite explaining how the bookstore was her aunt’s baby and she’d want it looked after, the officer’s pressed lips and stiff behaviour told her he didn’t buy it. He’d grilled her for hours before she finally confessed she’d been ordered here because her mother didn’t want to lose profits from a business she could potentially inherit. The police had left her pretty much alone after that.

While the older cop had looked at her with disgust, this one had a pleasant expression. At least they hadn’t forgotten about Aunt Jenny.

Wait a minute. Just because Officer Harris didn’t have news, didn’t mean Aunt Jenny hadn’t met some horrible fate. Willa’s body tensed again. She ran a shaky hand through her hair and started to pull the door closed. “Well, thank you for—”

“Are you okay, ma’am?” Officer Harris interrupted. “Your head has a pretty good bump.”

Willa reached up and pressed the tender skin. “Yeah. I had an argument with a door during the storm a couple nights ago.”

“And the door won?”

“’fraid so.”

The cop peered at her. “Have you learned anything new since staying here?”

Willa’s heart picked up the pace, and her palms felt suddenly clammy. Should she tell him about Lon? The book? Would he even believe her? She glanced at his chocolate brown eyes and her breathing hitched. No, he’d think she was crazy. Maybe she should find out something more concrete before saying something to the authorities. The sprites may not be involved at all.

“No,” she said and tried desperately not to look guilty.

The cop narrowed his eyes and leaned in, as if he could smell the lie on her breath. “Are you sure? You’ve been here for two weeks now.”

Willa nodded. “I visited my aunt often, but it’s not as though I kept a ledger of all her possessions. I’ve checked the inventory with her records, and nothing in the store is missing, but her personal effects are another matter. I don’t think anything’s missing, but I could be wrong.”

“No journals or notes?”

Willa shook her head. “No. I wish. I…” She turned away with the sudden sting in her eyes. “I hope she’s okay.” She turned back to the cop. “I’ve seen more than one documentary on television about missing persons. They say the first twenty-four hours are crucial. It’s been five weeks. I love my aunt and want her home. Is there any hope? Any hope at all that she’s still alive?”

The tension in the officer’s shoulders relaxed as he straightened from the doorway. Maybe he heard the truth in her words, too. “There’s always hope, ma’am.”

****

Seven weeks since Aunt Jenny’s disappearance, and still no word. With each day that past with clear skies and calm seas, Willa’s mood plummeted. It had been two weeks since the last storm rocked Lobster Cove. She wanted answers and only Lon could give them.

The Fourth of July carnival came and went. The fireworks did little to lift her spirits, and instead, compounded her loneliness. Officer Harris had approached her under the firework-lit sky, his soft brown eyes reflecting the sparkle of colours. He’d asked how she held up, but after a few awkward exchanges of conversation, he’d walked away to talk to Tess Highland, the gossip from the sheriff’s office.

Just as well. She wanted to see Lon.

With today’s forecast calling for cloud cover and a looming threat of thunderstorms, she might get her wish. With the booktique closed, she spent the day wandering the town and thinking about what she’d say to Lon.

After stopping by Julie’s Coffee and Sweet Shop, Willa drifted through Lobster Cove’s Central park with her to-go cup in hand.

“Hello, dear!” An older woman, her flaming red hair in an up-knot sat on one of the benches in the gazebo and waved her arm in the air. Ms. McCorkle.

Willa smiled and waved back.

“C’mere, lass! Tell me, ha-ware-ye?”

“Good.” Willa gripped her coffee cup and walked over to join the Irish woman on the bench. The potent aroma of the surrounding osiria roses flooded her senses, and American goldfinches chattered back and forth. “How are you, Ms. McCorkle? Feeling better?”

“Aye! Just dandy,” she said, and then held up a familiar book. “I ’ear yer tay tank fer dis book. Brilliant piece.”

“You’re welcome. I’m glad you li—”

“Listen tay dis!” The short and rotund woman began to regale her with the explicit sections of the book in her heavy, slightly exaggerated, Irish brogue.

Willa squirmed in her seat as Ms. McCorkle read about “heaving bosoms,” “swollen members” and “quivering mounds.” It took three fairly graphic scenes and a promise to visit before Willa could extract herself from the verbal clutches of the older woman.

“Lass!” Ms. McCorkle called out to her again.

Willa cringed and turned around to find the other woman leaning forward and squinting, her lurid book momentarily forgotten.

“Yes?” Willa asked.

“Ye ’ave da look o’ da fae in ye girl.”

“Oh.” Willa straightened and scratched her head. “Thanks?”

“Ye need tay be careful in dees parts, lass. Some of da fairy folk would gobble ye up!” The woman shook her head, eyes glazing into a foggy look before she picked up her book and continued to read, as if Willa no longer existed or the exchange never happened.

Willa raised her now-empty coffee cup in a silent salute, and hustled away before Ms. McCorkle remembered her presence and started serenading her with her favorite book sections again.

With the light fading fast, Willa decided to walk along the water on the way back to the booktique. The sky darkened with an overcast of ominous clouds, but not enough for a storm, not yet. The changing weather left her apprehensive, nervous and excited all at the same time. She needed to know if the sprites were involved with her aunt’s disappearance. She needed Lon.

What would she say to him? She had no clue, but at least she didn’t have to worry about it tonight. They’d get a small drizzle, if anything, but it wouldn’t be enough for Lon to appear. She’d done some researching of her own on the internet.

According to a number of sites, Tempests needed thunder and lightning to take human form.

She kicked a stone with her foot and winced. Not the best idea to wear flip-flops. She continued to walk along the rocky shore of Lobster Cove. The street had to be one of the most beautiful drives, and she envied the shops lining Main Street. What a great view! With the booktique a few blocks down, she could hear and smell the ocean but only saw it from the top floor’s bedroom window.

Seagulls cried out, possessive and nerve-grating as ever. She climbed down on the rocks near the pier so she could dip her feet into the cool ocean water. She’d always loved doing this, ever since she was a child. Her mother would be furious. “You’re dragging in the dirt,” she’d hiss.

Well, Mom wasn’t here. Willa rolled her shoulders and cast her gaze out, the deep blue of the sea almost merged with the darkening sky. She’d always loved the ocean breeze, and the way it would comb through her hair, even on a mild day. She remembered a plaque somewhere that read, “Our memories of the ocean will linger on, long after our foot prints in the sand are gone.” Although unknown, the poet spoke to Willa’s soul. She loved the ocean.

Maybe that’s why she felt such a strong connection to Lon. “It doesn’t make sense,” she said, speaking quietly to her feet, so no one would hear. “How can I feel this way?”

Did the water swirl more at her feet? No. She must’ve imagined it. Maybe she imagined Lon and his devilish mouth, too.

“I read the rest of the book,” she told the sea. “Tempests are pretty badass when they’re pissed. Well, I’m angry, too. Maybe I misread you and that kiss. But why didn’t you tell me? Why would you tell my aunt and not me? Why did you run?”

Again, the ocean held no answers, but the wind picked up. The rocks she sat on bordered the deep bay, and the ocean swelled against her legs before crashing hard against the serrated shoreline farther down.

“Is that why my aunt went missing? Because she found out?”

The breeze ruffled through her hair and she splashed the cold water with her feet, a nice refreshment from the lingering heat of the day.

“If Tempests exist, could other, nastier creatures be roaming around?” She knew in her heart Lon wasn’t involved with her aunt’s disappearance, but if someone else found out about her aunt’s knowledge…maybe that’s what happened to her. The chill of the water seemed to spiral up her leg to travel along her spine. She shuddered. If that was true, Aunt Jenny might be gone forever. Dead.

Her eyes stung and for once, she didn’t stop the tears from falling. The droplets hit the water below her and created little ripples on the dark blue surface. Maybe she could send a message to Lon with her tears. Willa laughed. I’m really losing it now.

Her body’s outline stared back at her, becoming more broken by the increased chopping motion of the water. The waves almost non-existent when she first arrived, grew in intensity. If only they would bring a storm. Even then, nothing guaranteed Lon would appear. She might never see him again. The thought sent a searing pain to her heart.

“I know you’re not here to answer, but I wonder, Lon. Did you put some sort of spell on me? Enthrall me with some crazy supernatural voodoo? How can I feel the way I do, when I’ve only known you a few hours? Two nights! How can the pain in my heart be real?”

With the deep blue withholding its knowledge, Willa picked herself up to walk back to the booktique. Her day off almost over, and she felt more lost than ever.

“Wait!” A whisper floated in the breeze.

Willa spun around and peered into the water, now a deep, blue-black with only the moon to light its depths. The choppy water distorted the surface, but a translucent object solidified from the depths of the ocean.

Lon’s pale face appeared in the water below.

Willa gasped.

With his chin tilted up toward her, submerged in the water, Lon’s gray storm eyes met hers. She shook her head and looked again. His luscious lips moved under the water, as if he spoke to her. She leaned closer.

“Not…spell… Not a spell…”

Willa’s hand flew to her mouth, and she quickly inhaled. She reached down to pull him out of the water, but his face disappeared, melting into the deep blue as if he’d never existed. Overextended, she toppled forward.

“Ahh!” Willa flapped her arms and tried to correct her balance, but it was too late. Her body hit the ocean with an icy slap. Her forehead struck a rock. Pain lanced across her face.

The water swirled around her, angry and dark. Her arms flailed as she tried to find a rhythm with her legs to stay afloat. She lacked control. The cold chopped at her face, and she gulped some seawater down. No! This wasn’t supposed to happen.

The water kept crashing against her, slamming her body against the rocks. Her head cracked against a jagged edge and her vision, already poor in the fading light, narrowed, until only darkness and one thought remained.

Lon?

****

Foolish woman! What was she thinking reaching out into the ocean after him?

When he was in sprite form, sight came in bands of energies, and Willa’s had been a beacon on those rocks with the oncoming night—bright purple and gold, swirling together—he’d recognized her instantly.

Now, Lon drifted in the ocean and watched Willa sink with his heart. The coming storm wasn’t strong enough for him to take human form, but he’d needed to talk to her. He’d leeched energy from his brothers just to gain enough power to form his face and tell her it wasn’t a spell.

Now Willa flailed in the strong current. Her aura flickered and waned. She was in trouble.

And he had no energy to save her.

Lon floated helplessly as he watched her head crack against the sharp rocks of the shoreline. The sound vibrated through his entire being.

Help! He called to his brothers. No one answered.

Willa’s body sagged deeper. Her heartbeat slowed.

He pushed against the tide to get closer. Fight, he demanded. Fight!

Bubbles of air escaped from her nose and slightly opened mouth.

She continued to sink in the dark water. Her aura faded. Her heartbeats slowed as she drifted farther down.

No!

The swelling waves pushed him away and dark depths of the ocean engulfed the lower half of Willa’s body. Only her pale face and swirling hair remained visible.

Help! He called out again. Help her!

The ocean pushed with more weight and a bolt of energy surged through Lon’s body. He propelled down and swirled around Willa’s petite frame. Her eyes remained shut and a wake of blood followed her through the current.

I love her! Lon bellowed. The truth behind the words gave them power, and his thoughts echoed through the waves, repeating back to him with each crash and undertow.

At first, he heard nothing.

Then, the wail of his brothers resonated through the rough water. Their shouts of excitement and fear grew louder. Sprites swirled around him, then dove down to Willa’s sinking body. They surrounded her while others flowed back and forth to fight the tide.

Lon struggled to swim beside them. Helpless. Useless. Powerless. He strained against the strong undertow and pushed forward. He sensed the approaching shore.

That’s it, he told them. You’re almost there.

If Lon had a physical heart in this form, it would be lodged in his throat. Minutes became eons. But finally, his brothers angled Willa’s body close enough to shore for the waves to roll her to safety. Lon curled with the tide, sensing Willa’s presence more than truly “seeing” her.

When another wave pushed her onto the rocky shore and left her there, a negative weight washed from his soul, leaving him light and fluid.

Her crumpled body lay on the rocks, giving off only faded remnants of her former aura. Then she coughed. She coughed and hacked and turned onto her side to spew out the ocean she’d consumed. His brothers cheered as they swept by him in the waves.

She’s alive!

“Thank you!” he bellowed for all to hear.

Willa stood and stumbled toward her store. Her aura’s hues of purple and gold grew brighter with each step.

Though she’d be okay, Lon doubted he’d ever be the same.

****

Idiot! Willa chided herself as she clambered up the rocky shore. She slipped on the wet rocks and crashed against the uneven ground. Her ears rang and pain lanced through her lungs. She took a deep breath and pushed up. This time, her bare feet found purchase and she stumbled to the deserted road. With a belly full of ocean water and a heart full of lead, she headed back to the booktique.

What was she thinking, falling into the ocean? For what? A water sprite? A foolish dream? She choked back a sob. How could she love someone… something…that dissolved in water? Like sugar! Her throat tightened. It had to be a dream. And she’d been fool enough to fall for it, literally. She’d almost drowned. The taste of vomit still clung to her mouth, and her head pounded.

Had she not been washed onto shore, she’d be dead. Dead like Aunt Jenny? Is that what happened to her? The pain in her head subsided a little and sank down to her chest. The tide brought her to shore. Did Lon play a part in that, or was her heart speaking?

Fool.

She got lucky. She’d almost died from her own stupidity.

She shook off some of the water. Her head throbbed, and she reached up to tenderly touch the right side of her skull. Her hands came away bloody. Just great. There’d be a goose egg the size of a golf ball on the side of her head by tomorrow morning. A reminder of her foolishness, like she needed another one. She’d look like a female Frankenstein with all her lumps and bumps. Her steps became less stumble and more stompy as she plodded her way back to the booktique. Fool woman!

She needed to get a grip on reality, forget Lon and find out what happened to her aunt. None of this hocus-pocus bullcrap.

When she reached the store, she pulled up short. A man rested his shoulder against the door with his back to her. At a stocky five foot eight, with clean cut, light brown hair, the man wore beige slacks, a green polo shirt and loafers, like a preppy college kid despite being in his mid-thirties. George.

Ice flowed through her veins, as if the cold water dripping from her clothes absorbed into her body. She took a deep breath and continued to the store’s entrance.

George turned at her approach and his teeth flashed. The nerve! Smiling at her like that, all smarmy and confident. As if he hadn’t broken her spirit and shattered her world.

“Hello, darling,” he said. His smooth voice grated against her nerves. Condescending and arrogant, as always. He leaned in and without hesitation, or permission, planted a warm kiss on her cheek.

“What do you want?” she asked. Her shoulders drooped and the weariness of her near-drowning set in; her feet grew heavy as cement blocks and anchored her in place.

George’s smile faltered. Then his gaze travelled her body from head to foot and back again. “What are you doing out in public looking like that?”

“Honestly, George? You came all the way from Lewiston to scold me on my appearance?” She shouldered past him and unlocked the door. Yeah, her clothes were plastered to her body, and she resembled a drowned kitten. Heck, she almost was a drowned kitten. But George had no business judging her. She wanted to go inside, get warm, and curl up with a hot chocolate. Maybe even cry a little and feel sorry for herself. Luckily her key hadn’t fallen out of her pocket. Then she’d be wet, cold, and homeless.

“No, I…” George ran a hand through his short hair and glanced around. “Can we talk inside?”

No! That’s the last thing she wanted. Playing host to a certifiable d-bag ranked pretty low on her list of priorities right now. But he’d come all this way and curiosity gnawed at her gut. Maybe he’d finally explain himself, or…her breath caught...apologize. “Sure,” she said. “You can wait downstairs in the kitchen while I take a hot shower and change.”

George’s shoulders straightened, and he flashed her another quick smile, this one a little more genuine than the last.

****

The hot shower soothed her nerves, and if she cried a little from a weird sense of loss, no one would be the wiser. With George securely downstairs, she had the upper floor all to herself and her wallowing. Why did she feel so empty? She should feel vindicated. Her brain had been right to question Lon; she should never have kissed him. She should never have opened her heart to the possibility of something more, something deeper existing between them. Happily ever after belonged in books.

Why did that make her so sad?

She barely knew him.

Alone in her bedroom, she dressed in George’s least favorite clothes; the teal green shirt he said made her look pregnant, and the dark denim skinny jeans he claimed she looked short in—stubby, had been his word. An hour since she left George downstairs, she glanced in the mirror and gave herself a thumbs up.

He looked up when she reached the bottom of the stairs. “About time!”

George sat on the same kitchenette chair Lon had taken, looking smaller and weak in comparison. He leaned back with his legs sprawled out in front of him. With one arm draped over the back of the chair, the other rested on the table. He drummed his fingers on the dark oak. His eyebrows pinched together giving him a pensive look, one she was well acquainted with. The wind picked up outside and the sounds of heavy rain and fog horns filled the night.

“Excuse me?” she asked.

“What took you so long?”

Willa took a deep breath and headed for the kettle to flick it on. “I’m no longer on your schedule, George. Say what you came to say.”

“No longer…” George sucked in some air and straightened on his chair. He looked down at his now folded hands.

Willa snorted and went to get a mug.

“I want you back.”

Willa’s hand froze halfway to the cupboard. She let it drop to her side and slowly turned around. George’s hazel eyes met hers, deep and sincere. Had he crawled back to her three weeks ago, before she met Lon, she probably would’ve run to him. But now? She studied his face, one she used to find handsome, and felt…nothing.

George’s mouth flattened. “Aren’t you going to say something?”

“You want me back?” Willa said.

“That’s what I said.”

“No apology?”

“Apology?” he asked, his tone incredulous, like he couldn’t fathom what he had to be sorry for.

“You know…for leaving me broken hearted while you ran off with my best friend. How’s Colleen, anyway?”

“Colleen and I are done. We had…irreconcilable differences,” he said.

“She had an opinion?”

George sucked in a breath and leaned forward.

Willa flinched and braced for his outrage. He hated her talking back. Always said if he wanted her opinion, he’d ask for it.

Then something weird happened. His body relaxed into the old chair, and the almost-sincere smile spread across his face. “She wasn’t you.”

“But you left me.”

“Well, that wasn’t all on me. Part of my leaving was really your own—”

“My own what? Fault?” she choked.

“Willa, I love you. I want you back, but you need to be more understanding of my needs. I thought maybe we could work on that, you know, together. Start fresh.”

“Your needs?” she said, more to herself than to George. “All I did was look after and care for your needs.”

George sat back in his chair. “And I love that about you, I do. But you also need to have your own things, give me space to breathe.”

Willa squeezed her eyes shut, and counted to ten. When that didn’t work, she kept going until one hundred.

“Willa?”

One hundred and thirty four…

“Willa!”

One hundred and fifty two…

“Willa! Will you look at me?”

She opened her eyes and studied George’s open expression. Some of her anger dissipated. He may not have uttered the word, “sorry,” but she knew how much it had cost him to come down here and ask her to come back. He cared for her, she knew that, but was it enough?

“Will you answer me?” George asked.

“No,” she said.

George nodded his head. “Fine, you need time. I get that. I’ll stay in one of the—”

“I meant no, I won’t come back.”

George’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline and his eyes widened. “No?”

“No.”

George took another deep breath and stood from the table. “Willa, you’re obviously not in the right state of mind. You’ve had a…rough…day. I can’t go anywhere tonight, anyway. I’ll take one of the spare rooms, stay a couple of days, and maybe you’ll change your mind. Will you have dinner with me tomorrow? Maybe you could tell me what happened tonight to leave you looking like a shipwreck?”

The tension left Willa’s shoulders. She’d been prepared to scream at him and tell him to get out, but his dinner invitation and reasonable request surprised her. Maybe he’d changed. But, so had she.

At this hour, he might not get a room elsewhere and it was a long drive back to Lewiston, Maine. She’d been out most of the day. How long had he waited for her?

“Fine,” she said. “I’ll set your room up.”

****

That little bitch!

George threw his suitcase on the neatly made bed and scowled. The floors creaked, the wallpaper in the room dated back to the 80s and the blankets, although recently laid out by Willa, didn’t look or feel fresh. Worn and old, they smelled like a stale linen closet. His skin crawled. He never thought he’d be slumming it at the age of thirty-five to woo a piece of tail he’d already hit.

He couldn’t believe Willa had made him wait for almost an hour while she pranced around getting ready, and then she’d come down wearing that horrid outfit. Didn’t she know how much he hated it? He’d been very clear to her in the past.

If he hadn’t lost all his money at the tables with Colleen, he’d leave tonight and go home: sink his sorrows deep into another woman, again and again, nice and hard. Forget this fucking tart. She always wanted to cuddle or talk, have a proper relationship. If he hadn’t been banging other chicks on the side for the entire time they were together, he’d have gone postal.

Willa had no clue. She was too sweet and nice to think poorly of him, or anyone else for that matter. He never wanted a relationship, never wanted someone to care for and look after. Why would he ever want to put someone else’s needs before his own? He could barely stomach what he was doing now, but his mom and dad had been firm. No money unless he cleaned up his life. They’d never accept Colleen. Too bad. He shared similar views on life with that saucy wench—they both used people for their own personal gain. He’d known all along Colleen’s feelings for him went as deep as his wallet, but she had a sweet rack and he liked screwing her. When the money dried up, she’d turned frigid and he tossed her out.

Willa, on the other hand, fit the perfect country club image for his parents. He’d spent years manipulating her damaged soul into the perfect companion. He just needed to put her back into the right mindset.

And he knew exactly how to do it.

When he got Willa back, he’d get access to his trust fund and have someone to take care of him—that part of relationships he never minded. Willa was great at taking direction.

The little bitch was going to make him work for it, though. He’d practically groveled in the kitchen over a cheap dinette set. Fucking cow. She should be ecstatic he wanted her back. When she came home with him, he’d teach her a few lessons with his cock.

Maybe he could stay at that nice bed and breakfast he saw on his drive into town? No. He needed to keep Willa in his sights and his eye on the prize.

With a deep breath, George got ready for bed and peeled back the sheets. Think of the money. Think of the money, man! He repeated his mantra over and over again as he lay in bed. He needed a clear head for tomorrow and a plan. He’d wine and dine the bitch and then Willa would be his.

****

Willa smiled at George across the table. The darkening sky and distant rumbles of thunder added to the intimate ambiance of their candle-lit dinner. He’d been a perfect gentleman all night; opening doors, pulling out chairs, and asking her questions. He’d even complimented her outfit! He’d laid on the charm, and spared no cost, even using his credit card instead of the wad of cash he usually carried with him. Maybe he wasn’t all that bad. Aside from leaving her for Colleen, anyway.

But each time she stood on the precipice of caving, ready to jump off and see where this relationship with George could go, she’d catch a flicker of an expression on George’s face—a grimace or a wince as if something pained him. Was it her? Was this all an act? He’d been suitably charming when they first dated, as well, and that hadn’t been an act. Had it? He’d never mistreated her; he just had particular needs in life and in the bedroom. He needed to be in control. Be the man.

With each sip of wine, her resolve melted a little. Life with George hadn’t been bad. Before he left her, she’d been looking forward to their marriage, not for a way out. Maybe he really had realized his mistake like he said.

Maybe things could go back to the way they were before he ran off with Colleen.

Did she want a life with him? Would it be enough after Lon?

“Willa?” George asked, his face pinching in.

“Sorry?”

“I wanted to know where you’re at.”

She sighed and placed her napkin neatly on the table. They’d enjoyed a five-course lobster feast and she might need to be rolled out of the restaurant. Her body still ached and bruises decorated her skin, but nothing a hot bath and make-up couldn’t fix. She’d been very lucky. “Where I’m at with what?”

“With us.”

“Oh.” She glanced away, his gaze too intense.

“Do you still care for me?”

“Well, yes…” She folded her hands on the table top.

“Do you still love me?”

She hesitated. Good question. Did she? “Love doesn’t automatically switch off or disappear. No one can turn off their heart,” she said. “But you hurt me.”

George exhaled a long breath and in that instant, a flash of that disgruntled expression crossed his face again. “Willa, I’ve apologized for that. It was a mistake and not one I plan to make again.”

She nodded, more to her plate than him. Her arms felt heavy. Too much food. She’d slip into a food coma, if they didn’t leave soon.

“I’m going to make a decision,” George said.

Her head snapped up and her brain smacked against her skull. Her earlier headache returned with a vengeance.

Whenever George said he’d made a decision in the past, it meant he made plans for both of them. Plans she never liked. George leaned forward and clasped her hands in his, the movement so fast, she flinched.

“You love me, but you’re hurt. I get that. I’m not saying things will go back to the way they were. Maybe that’s a good thing. But I want to build a new relationship, from this point forward, and if you love me, you’ll want the same thing.”

Willa bit her lip.

“Let’s go back to the house. You can pack your bags and lock up the shop. We can head out right away. Come home with me, Willa. It’s where you belong.”

“What about Aunt Jenny?”

“Did you discover anything this last month? Find any clues?” He released her hands.

She opened her mouth and then shut it. What could she say? She learned mythical water sprites existed? It sounded ridiculous to her own ears.

Wasn’t Lon more than that?

George dabbed the corners of his mouth with a napkin. “Your presence here isn’t helping to find her. The only one benefitting is your mom. You know she’s hoping to keep all the earnings from the store if Jenny never reappears. And you’re the one working your ass off. Come back to Lewiston. I can support you, and if you don’t want that, you could get your old job back. I know your boss; I can put in a good word for you.”

“I just…”

“Need some time?” He nodded as if he’d expected her response. “You can have as much as you want in Lewiston.”

She nodded. Going home to Lewiston, to a life she knew very well, had its allure. She didn’t have to make a decision about George right away. She could go home. It would be easier than this odd unknown. George studied her from across the table, his lips slightly turned up and his shoulders relaxed. His hands enfolded her own, warm and familiar.

“I’d like to walk back to the booktique alone,” she blurted out.

“In this weather? Why?”

“To clear my head. Think. Say goodbye.”

George perked up with her final words. The smug expression she knew so well spread across his face. “Sure, babe. I’ll drive back and start packing.”

He got up and helped pull her out of her seat. His warm lips pressed against hers in a chaste kiss. Willa shivered.

“I’ll see you soon,” he said, and walked out of the restaurant.

****

Willow’s heart spasmed in her chest, leaving her hollow. She shuffled along the lit street, staring out at the sea and the darkening horizon. What was going on inside her heart? A haze had fallen over her mind, followed by a numbness that didn’t stop at the fingertips; instead, it ran along her arms and legs and settled in her chest, leaving her heavy and empty all at once.

Go back with George? Was she really considering it?

What other alternatives did she have? She needed to face reality. Hadn’t her near-drowning experience been a slap to the face? She’d decided to be more practical and logical, hadn’t she? George offered her a new chance at her old life. Maybe they could make it work. Maybe they couldn’t, but she needed to go home and give up on unrealistic dreams. Happy endings belonged in fairy tales. Time to move on with her life.

Fate had a funny way of showing a path for her.

The ocean rolled and curled under the increasing wind. The forecast called for heavy showers and thirty percent chance of thunder and lightning. Not strong enough for Lon, not yet. But what did it matter? He probably wouldn’t show up, and even if he did…What kind of life could she have with him? They’d only kissed. Maybe she imagined the moment more magical and binding than it was.

She reached down and peeled off her sandals to climb down to the water. Staying in Lobster Cove represented hope, and at the same time delusion. Staying here meant constantly wishing for things she couldn’t have—Lon, her aunt’s return, a life where she could be her own person. She needed to say goodbye to those dreams and move on, get back to real life and make some peace with it. Maybe even forgive George.

She stepped into the water and walked in until the cold water hit mid-shin. The waves crashed before they reached her, but the push of the ocean still pressed against her calves.

“I don’t know if you can hear me,” she whispered.

No one answered but the hungry seagulls.

“My ex has returned and wants me to go back to Lewiston with him.”

The wind howled, flinging her hair back and away from her face. Another monstrous wave crashed, and she staggered back a few steps. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. No. She needed to do this. For closure.

“I’m going to go with him. I…I just wanted to say goodbye.” She owed him that much. With a crash of thunder, a sheet of rain fell hard. In two seconds, Willa’s clothes were soaked. She tilted her head up to the sky and revelled in the downpour of water against her face. Maybe this was Lon’s way of saying goodbye, too.

With a deep breath and one last look at the churning dark ocean, Willa turned around and walked back to the booktique.

****

Lon didn’t question why his feelings were so strong for Willa. As a water sprite, he went with the flow; as a supernatural being, he accepted things that went beyond normal explanation. He’d wanted Willa from the second he saw those amber eyes and scattering of freckles. If he lost her, he’d sink to the abyss and carry out the rest of his existence in solitude, drifting with the remnants of whale carcasses.

He heard everything Willa said and watched helplessly as her once bright purple and gold aura faded, receding like a hermit crab into its protective shell. With each word she spoke, he became angrier and angrier, until his entire being vibrated. So livid, his brothers swirled around and played in the energy emissions rolling off his essence. How could she even think of leaving Lobster Cove with that vile man? Did the kiss they shared mean nothing to her? Did she not feel the force between them?

How deep did her denial go?

If Willa left, she’d slip back into her old patterns and she’d be lost to him forever.

One thing for sure, he wouldn’t float in the jetsam and watch the woman he loved walk away from the cove and out of his life.

He railed with the ocean and rode the waves hard, calling his brothers to join him. The storm bordered the strength needed to take physical shape, but it wouldn’t be enough. He needed more. He absorbed the energy from his brothers and the strong undertow, and hailed the God of the Sea to lend him power. He needed to see Willa, if it was the last thing he did. If his energy drained while on land, not even an existence in the abyss would be an option. He’d be lost.

Without Willa, he’d be lost anyway.

Again, and again, he flew through the roll of the waves and crashed against the hard rocks. His brothers beside him wailed at his anguish.

Not enough! Still not enough.

Then he felt it. A surge of unspeakable power rising up from the depths of the abyss. The Sea God had heard his plea. His energy flowed into Lon as the wave crested. Every fibre of Lon’s essence sang and his human body crashed against the rocky shore.

“Ugh.” Lon grunted against the rocks, and took a moment to catch his breath. The waves slammed against his legs and floated his body farther toward the sea wall, and the direction Willa had left.

“Okay, okay,” he said. “I’m up.” He pushed off the rocks and scrambled to his feet. He felt weak; weaker than he ever had in his entire existence. The transformation sapped most of his life force, even with the power boost from the God of the Sea.

“Thank you,” he told the ocean. His brothers squealed in response. Thunderous clouds pooled overhead, and a boom of thunder rocked his body. He didn’t have time to waste. He needed to find Willa before he lost all his energy. He staggered to his hidey hole and again found new clothes. Who kept leaving them?

He shrugged and threw them on before heading toward Willa’s place. With heavy limbs and feet, each step felt like the air was molasses. Halfway to the booktique, he stumbled and caught himself against the wall of a store.

“Here,” a voice sang behind him. “Let us help you.”

Lon started and turned to find two willowy women, each with blue eyes and wispy white-blonde hair. They wore light, almost translucent blue dresses. He’d never met them before, but they looked familiar. “Who—”

The beautiful women smiled. Another gust of storm-force wind funneled down the street and blew around them. Their hair danced and their skin glowed.

“Wind sprites,” he mumbled.

“Yes,” they said in unison. “We’re here to help you.” Without another word, they ducked under his arms and bore the majority of his weight, despite being half his size.

“Why?” he asked. Did it really matter? They were helping him get to Willa.

“You need your strength to save our sister,” the one on his right said.

“Sister?”

They both nodded.

“Willa’s a wind sprite?” And then he placed their familiarity. The eyes. Though the wind sprites beside him had different colouring, the shape and intensity reminded him of Willa.

“No,” the one on his left answered. “She’s a descendent of one.”

Wind and water sprites had always been compatible with one another. His immediate connection with Willa made more sense now. “Did you leave the clothes?” he asked. Only ten more yards existed between him and Willa. He was going to make it!

The wind sprites nodded. “The birch dryads helped us. They like her, too. And her mom.”

Her mom? Now that made no sense, but he didn’t have a chance to question them further. He stared at the heavy oak door of the booktique.

“Good luck,” the wind sprites chorused.

He turned to thank them, but he was too late. Their garments floated to the ground and thin white wisps spiraled in the air. They circled Lon a couple of times, providing him with more energy before they swirled away into the night in another gust of ocean air.

He took a big breath in and turned back to the booktique. With his energy draining every minute, he didn’t have the luxury of waiting. His heart thudded in his chest. There would be no return trip to the ocean. Now or never. If Willa wouldn’t have him, he’d truly be lost.

He grabbed the handle and pushed the door open.

****

Willa threw her clothing into the suitcase with force. Having dropped everything to run to Lobster Cove to help out, she’d arrived with very little. Since then, she’d accumulated enough clothes to need a second suitcase, but when she searched for her aunt’s cute little carry-on, the one with the purple flowers, she couldn’t find it.

She let out another big sigh.

“What’s taking so long?” George called up the stairs to her.

“Still packing!” she yelled back. Same as ten minutes ago, and ten minutes before that. Did he have a timer on?

“Well, hurry up!”

Willa rolled her eyes and turned to throw the last shirt into her luggage. Staring at her full suitcase, a strange numbness travelled across her skin. All she had to do was reach out and close the hard-shelled case. Then, she’d be ready to go. Her feet grew roots into the old wood flooring.

She lifted her arm and leaned forward, but an invisible weight burdened her limb and it fell lifeless to her side. She breathed in and out. I’m doing the right thing. She reached out again to close the suitcase with her other arm, but it fell back to her side unsuccessful, as well.

She couldn’t do it.

She couldn’t leave this place.

She couldn’t leave Lon.

“Willa, for fuck sakes, what’s taking so long?” George bellowed. With each word, she heard him stomp up the stairs until he entered her room. “It never used to take you this long to pack before.”

Before. Before she met Lon and everything changed. “I can’t do this,” she said. Her realistic future with George faded away and left her…elated! Like she’d been wearing shoulder pads of solid lead only to have the sun melt them away.

“Just throw the fucking clothes in the case, Willa. Simple.” His tone turned darker, and his body tensed.

“No. I can’t do this.” She turned and waved her hand back and forth between George and her. “I can’t do us.”

George’s eyes narrowed. “You’re changing your mind?”

She nodded.

“And what if you change your mind again, after I’ve left? Just pack the clothes, Willa. We’ll talk about this on the drive home.”

Willa’s muscles tensed. He never used that tone unless he was pissed. She shook her head, “I won’t change my mind on this. I don’t want to spend another minute with you. Get out! Leave. And never come back.” She deserved more in life than this asshole. Lon had shown her that. How could she have been so blind? After she got this jerk out the door, she’d go to the beach and demand Lon show himself. They should be together. Even if she had to dress in seaweed and live on a life raft, they’d find a way.

“You little bitch!” George shook. He took a menacing step forward and raised his arm to strike her.

Willa’s breath hitched. He’d never hit her before. But if he did now, he’d prove her right. Screw him! She clenched her jaw, straightened her back, and prepared to fight.

“Touch her and die,” a stormy voice crashed through the room.

Lon!

A surge of energy flowed through Willa’s body and wiped out her tension.

She stepped to the side and beamed at Lon.

George stiffened before turning to see the newcomer—a large, powerful man, ready to pommel him to death.

George looked insignificant compared to Lon. Her ex’s gaze darted back and forth from her to Lon. His brain probably calculating the likelihood of outcomes. Judging from the rage streaking across Lon’s face, none of the possibilities were good for him.

“Fuck this,” George muttered. He shouldered past Lon and stomped down the stairs.

Willa held her breath until the front door slammed.

****

The tension from Lon’s shoulders eased with each step the sea slug took toward the front door. Thank the Sea God Willa’s ex didn’t want to fight. Lon didn’t have it in him, but when he saw the man raise his fist to Willa…well, it would’ve been a good way to go.

Willa’s wide amber gaze turned to him, and a different emotion flooded his body. Hope. She’d decided to stay. He’d heard the words she shouted at George. Each affirmation of hers propelled him forward.

Now that the immediate danger had left, however, the adrenalin drained from his body. His heavy, lethargic body. At least he got to see her one last time before…before he dissolved into nothing. At least he got to hear her stand up for herself and take that much needed step to independence.

Her breathtaking aura sparkled with power.

She was safe. And she was here.

His heart hammered in his chest as everything around him slowed down. Could she hear it? Did she know it beat for her?

Willa moved toward him with light in her eyes. He stepped forward with a smile, and crumpled.

****

Willa lunged forward and caught Lon before they both crashed to the ground. His weight fell heavy against her and pinned her to the floor.

“Been here.” She laughed when she caught her breath, and smoothed his back. The flowing energy unique to him travelled up her arm and embraced her heart. The sense of home flooded her body. “I’m glad you came.”

Lon’s chest rumbled, but no laughter came out. “I heard…everything,” he said. “Everything. I…I don’t want to be without you.”

His words touched something inside her chest. Not her heart, not her core, nothing physical, but something else, something more, as if his words twined around her very being, her essence, her soul. “I don’t want to be without you either.”

Her eyes stung and she let the tears fall. Lon pushed up on shaking forearms and used his trembling thumbs to wipe them away. His smile sweet and tender. Yet, something was wrong. Why did he look so weak?

She glanced outside. Wind? Check. Rain? Check. Thunder? Not for a while. Same with the lightning. In terms of East Coast storms, the one outside was mild to negligible.

She turned back to Lon’s stormy eyes. The understanding scooped out her heart and left her numb. “There’s no storm.”

Lon nodded, a bare twitch of his chin up and down. His arms trembled against hers. “Took…everything. All gone.” He collapsed on top of her and she felt more than heard his deep sigh, a labored breath of contentment. She cradled him in her arms and started to cry again.

No! This couldn’t be happening. She’d finally kicked George to the proverbial curb, and Lon saved her from a sure-beating. She should experience euphoria, but the one thing she craved most was being ripped away.

Icy fingers wrapped around her thudding heart and tugged. “I don’t understand. I don’t know what’s happening. Don’t leave me! Please, don’t leave me.” She hugged him close and inhaled his salty scent. “You make me whole.”

“Need…” he whispered.

She stopped rocking him and ducked her head forward.

“Need,” he repeated.

“Anything,” she said. “Take whatever you need.” Please, keep breathing! Please.

“Need to bond…to you. Need you,” he whispered. His trembling hand reached up to her face, but it fell back to his side without contact. “…love you.”

Warmth flooded her body. He loved her! She gripped his cheeks and gently pushed his head back to stare into the depths of his gaze again. His lips twitched into a smile, but the waves of energy from him weakened. The wane of his power left her cold and numb. Thunderclouds stopped circling in his irises. They changed to a dull slated gray. Her heart hammered in her chest.

No. No! She needed him.

“Bond to me then. Do whatever that means, whatever that entails. Anything with you is better than a life without you.” She leaned forward and pressed her lips against his.

Lon’s mouth moved into a fuller smile under her lips, and her body tingled as a wave of warmth moved through her body to his, as if their very kiss pulled energy from her body. Then he angled his head, opened his mouth and deepened the kiss.

It ended too fast.

His lips grazed her as he mumbled something foreign. He whispered it, over and over again, and finally she caught what he said. “Semper tuus ero.”

Despite flunking high school Latin, the meaning of the words soaked into her essence: I am forever yours.

The window of her bedroom flew open; gusts of strong ocean wind blew into the room. The mirror on the wall crashed to the floor, the lamp beside the bed shattered. The rain soaked all her stuff, but she didn’t care. She stared into the deep stormy pools of Lon’s eyes. They clouded, like the sky outside gathering before thunder.

Before, such clouds signalled impending doom. Now, the sight sent shivers through her body and warmth saturating her bones. The swirling gray danced around and hypnotized her, drawing energy until Lon glowed.

“Say these words.” Lon’s voice rumbled. “Semper tua ero.”

“Semper tua ero,” she repeated. I am forever yours.

She gasped as the wind and rain bore down on her through the window. The power of the elements surged into her body and steeped her with energy until she hummed with power, both floating and heavy at the same time. It flowed through her veins and poured into her soul.

Her vision flashed white and orange like a lightning strike.

Then, the crushing force softened, weakening, but not leaving her empty. It flowed out of her body and into Lon. Light flooded his skin, making it glow with a surrounding halo of blue, white and silver.

His ink-black hair framed his face and emphasized his pale skin and “otherness.” He was the most beautiful thing she’d ever laid eyes on.

Every cell of her body vibrated with energy, and she knew Lon’s vibrated in unison. Intense heat radiated from every contact between her skin and his.

“Is it done?” she asked.

Lon’s smile turned wicked. “Almost.”

****

God, she was magnificent. Her purple and gold aura intensified, shimmering with potency. Her skin sparked against his, a magical nudge to complete the bond.

Lon grinned. This would be the best part, and the part he’d enjoy doing again and again until they were too old to move.

He smoothed her crazy chestnut hair, now frizzy from the elements, away from her face. He loved the wild look of her. Natural and radiant. Her body pressed against his with each breath. Her hands caressed his back. Did she mind the weight? He hoped not, but he propped himself up on his forearms to look at her and follow the smooth line of her body from breast to hip. His. All his.

He wanted to take things slow, but the sweet smell of her skin and fast beating heart drowned his senses. His gaze sought hers again. “Our lives are bound together.”

She bit her lip and nodded.

Her aura flashed with intensity and he reached back to take her hands in his.

****

Willa’s heart swelled as Lon’s full lips met hers. He kissed her while he swept her hands above her head, pinning them there lightly. Her breasts pressed against his chest. So good! His every gesture soft, as though he asked permission.

Heat raced through her body, zinging from each touch and contact. Warmth rushed from her core and wetness pooled between her legs.

His gentle hands trailed up her arms to cradle her face. He studied her mouth as if she held all the answers. She didn’t. But god! This was more right than anything in her life! Alive. Her body had awakened, as if in slumber until Lon.

His lips pressed against hers again, deepening the kiss. His tongue caressed, flicking and laving like a teasing wave. Her body throbbed with need, for him to explore more than just her mouth. She ran her hands down the slick coolness of his skin. His energy flowed into her body like an ocean lapping at the shore. She moaned and squirmed under the exquisite weight of his body.

Lon chuckled against her mouth and shifted his weight so he lay beside her. His hand slowly traveled from her shoulder to waist, skimming her breast, but his gaze remained fixated on her chest. He licked his lips, clutched her waist and leaned in to give her another dizzying kiss.

****

She was killing him. Lon would never last if she kept moaning and rubbing against him. He wanted to show her how much he loved her with his body, but if things kept going this way, he might spend himself before they truly started. His erection throbbed with need, demanding he take her right away. The rough material of his jeans chaffed against his sensitive skin, but he didn’t care. All he saw and felt was Willa.

He reached up to cradle her face again, gripping her hair to bring her in for another kiss. She squeaked and he softened the pressure. He needed to be gentle. George had almost broken this beautiful woman.

Lon would never treat her that way. Ever.

****

Lon would be the death of her. His fingers dug into her side. His kiss hardened with a lashing tongue and scraping teeth. She answered with equal ferocity. Then, he pulled back, and delivered fluttering butterfly kisses across her face as he eased his grip into a soft caress.

Fierce and firm, then soft and gentle, like he couldn’t decide whether to ravage her or treat her like a porcelain doll. She wanted him to take her. For goodness sake, take her!

“More!” she demanded.

His hand drifted from her face and this time, he didn’t pass her breasts. He cupped the weight of one and trailed kisses down her neck until his mouth reached the other. Warm and wet through her shirt, her nerve endings sang as his lips clamped around her nipple.

Not enough. She wanted more. He sucked her perky nipple through her thin shirt and bra, but she wanted him to taste the salt of her skin, not the cotton of her clothing. With a groan, he reached down and yanked at her shirt, no longer capable of the slow movements needed for seduction. She sat up and helped him slip the garment over her head. He threw it in the corner and refocused. She flicked off her bra and tossed it alongside her shirt.

His pale alabaster skin shone under the flat bedroom lights, the silver, silver and blue of his aura swirled around like a drug haze and twined around her. He ran his hand down the center of her body and watched as she shuddered.

She arched her back when his devilish mouth moved away from her breast and travelled farther down. Goosebumps pebbled where he left her skin wet and exposed. Lon stirred a storm within her far more potent than the gale-force winds gusting into the room. The elements flowed around them, cocooning them in their primal embrace.

She pushed him back and sat up to tug at his shirt. He whipped it off in one motion. She ran her hands up his chiseled abs, then her tongue. He tasted of the sea. He shuddered and his head dipped back as she explored the dips and valleys of his muscles. When her fingers gripped the waist of his jeans to pull them down, his hands quickly engulfed her own and pried them away. “You’ll end this too soon, love.”

“I can’t wait any longer.” Her voice sounded deep and husky to her ears, as if some inner animal spoke for her. She lay back and unclasped her jeans in open invitation. Lon nodded and knelt between her legs. The thunderclouds of his eyes swirled and danced with the raging storm outside. His muscles tensed and body braced with anticipation.

She quickly shimmied out of her jeans and thong and he helped tug them off her legs before settling between her thighs. He smoothed his hand along the flat of her stomach before dipping down between her legs. She gasped. Lon leaned forward and captured her mouth with his and his energy flowed through her, warm and circular, like the roll of waves crashing into the rocks again, and again. She could drown in his essence and not care.

His fingers delved inside, where she waited for the rest of him. With each plunge of his digits, the inferno inside of her burned with need. “Please,” she whimpered. She couldn’t wait anymore.

****

Dammit. He wasn’t going to make it. He needed to be inside her. Now. Hot and wet, she was ready, but he’d planned to take his time, taste her, relish each twitch, shudder and moan. He’d already drunk from her mouth and skin and his body throbbed with a sweet agony.

Willa whispered, “More.”

He nearly lost control. He unzipped his jeans and without any underwear, his heavy erection sprang out. He captured Willa’s wide-eyed gaze, and she finally drew her attention away from his cock. Those fierce amber eyes met his and her gold and purple aura surrounded him with warmth and love.

“No regrets?” he asked, still not believing his good fortune. “No looking back?”

“None.” She smiled and reached down to grip his butt and guide him to her slick entrance. First the head, then the shaft, until he slowly pushed all the way in and buried himself in her tight warmth.

Willa sighed and relaxed under his body, opening her legs wider for him as he started to move; in and out; softer, then harder; slower, then faster; until they found a rhythm that belonged only to them.

The pressure built and built. The force of their mutual power flowed back and forth between them, in and out, like the ebb and flow of the tide. As he reached climax, she approached her own. They were in this together. He looked down at the beautiful woman beneath him, panting, gasping and moaning with each thrust of his hips, and smiled.

His.

For now and always.

****

She looked up and met the fierce stormy gaze. Her body burned with each movement, singing to Lon as if only he could hear. Her climax spiralled quickly up with Lon’s. The gray of his irises swirled and danced with intensity. He was so beautiful.

Hers.

For now and always.

****

The thunder outside rumbled as they came together and shouted into the stormy night. Bands of on-shore wind and pellets of rain howled into the room through the open window, drenching their entangled bodies. The lovers clung to each other, existing in their own world, the lightning flashing to illuminate the sheen of their skin.

The bond complete, they were now one.

Epilogue

The smell of cooked lobster, melted butter, and garlic drifted through the soft on-shore breeze as the heat of the summer’s day bore down on Willa’s covered head. She strolled with Lon, hand in hand through the busy street vendors lining Main Street. Her bond with Lon allowed her to see auras, and she relished watching the vibrant colours of her neighbours and the tourists dance around.

They’d spent the day sampling food at the August Lobster Crawl, the annual community event that celebrated all things crustacean. With bellies full of seafood delicacies, they ambled to the bookstore they now ran together.

Willa pressed her spare hand to her over-stuffed stomach. “I’m so full. You might have to carry me the rest of the distance.”

Lon smiled and bent to kiss her temple. “I’m sure we can think of ways to work off all this food. Which dish was your favorite?”

“The spicy one with the rice. Aroz a la tumbler, or whatever.”

Lon laughed and shook his head.

“What?”

“Arroz a la tumbada,” he prattled off in perfect Spanish.

“Exactly how many languages do you speak?”

“All the ones spoken on the sea.” He squeezed her hand with his own and they continued down the boardwalk. A gust of ocean air breezed across Willa’s face and blew her hair in all directions. She leaned into Lon and watched the soft rolling sea. Holding hands never carried this much joy for Willa, until now.

“So I don’t have to splash around in the ocean?” she asked. Lon had already told her about their bond and life with his brethren, but every time she saw the ocean, she felt like she’d missed something. But maybe, just maybe, good things really did come true.

“No.” Lon laughed. “Nothing like that. It’s me who changed, remember? Instead of being a sprite, I’ll stay human and will only take my incorporeal form to join my brothers during storms.”

She saw them now; thin as reeds; wisp-like as smoke; playful as leaves in a light breeze; a streak of blue, silver and white, vaguely human in miniature form, but bending, elongating and curling with each roll and wave of the ocean. They existed in simplicity without malice, entirely filled with joy.

Lon gave that up for her.

“Will you miss them?” she asked. “Your brothers?”

He nodded. “Yes, but I would’ve missed you more. Losing you wasn’t an option.”

She followed his gaze to the ocean and squeezed his hand. He squeezed back and they continued down the street to the booktique.

“You don’t mind?” Lon asked.

“Mind?” Her brows furrowed together. “The bond?”

He nodded.

“Absolutely not. I love you.”

“You don’t feel like I trapped you? Or how did you say it earlier? Enthrall you with some crazy supernatural voodoo?” His lips twitched.

“No, and don’t you dare think otherwise.”

“Good,” he said. “Good.”

How could he even think it? After they’d formed the bond on that stormy night, and Lon’s energy returned, He’d taken his time with her, tasting her, loving her, holding her. She’d moaned, begged, and screamed his name, and had almost every night since then. But her contentment didn’t stop at the physical connection. For the first time in her life, Willa felt whole and loved. Lewiston became a distant memory. Lon was her home now.

They reached the bookstore, and Lon hesitated at the door. “There’s something else I’ve wanted to tell you,” Lon said. “Something the wind sprites said to me.”

“Oh?” Willa asked, looking up as she unlocked the front door.

“They told me the dryads liked you…and your mother.”

Willa’s brows pinched together. “My mother? I don’t think my mom ever visited Aunt Jenny.” And who in their right mind would like that crazy woman?

They walked inside and Lon closed the door before swooping her up in a bear hug. “I’ve been thinking about it. That’s why I didn’t mention it before. What if…”

“What if?” Willa prompted. She tried to push away to see his face, but Lon’s arms tightened and she melted into his warmth.

“What if your mother isn’t your mother? I’ve been thinking about it since the wind sprites spoke to me. If you change your hair and eye colour, you’re a younger replica of Jenny. Even your auras are the same—purple and gold, with a little twinkle.”

Willa sighed. “As much as I’d love that to be true, my aunt and I are blood related. Of course there are similarities between us.”

“That explain the wind sprites comment?”

“Well, no.”

“That explain why your ‘mother’ is so mean and unloving toward you?”

“Aunt Jenny would’ve been fifteen if she’d had me. Besides, my whole family remembers the year they spent abroad when my mom was pregnant and had me. My sisters were old enough to recall my birth. They would’ve relished telling me the truth to hurt me at some point during my childhood.”

“I thought about that, too. Gold auras…gold auras are sometimes associated with witches, although it’s not exclusively their colour. I think you have a witch in the family that hid the teenage pregnancy. From everyone. It would explain your mom’s natural hatred toward you and Jenny’s reluctance to speak of you. A mother knows her own.”

Sprites, witches…what next? Willa opened her mouth to reply when a knock on the door interrupted her. Lon released her and they both turned toward the front entrance. As the door swung open, Lon took a step forward and placed his body slightly in front of hers.

A woman stood in the doorway. Short and petite with a lean body that defied her age of forty-five, the woman’s thick blonde hair blew forward with the gust of ocean air and covered her flushed, radiant skin and piercing blue eyes. Gold and purple swirled around her like a cape, reaching forward to tangle with her own. It sparkled as if containing millions of diamond dust particles. Willa couldn’t see her own aura, only sense it, but if it looked anything like this, no wonder Lon kept staring at her and smiling.

With one hand resting on the handle of a purple flowered carry-on case, Aunt Jenny beamed at Willa.

Answers could wait. Her aunt was home! Willa squealed like a sprite and stepped around Lon to embrace her aunt.

And stopped.

A dark silhouette moved in behind Jenny and placed a large protective hand on her hip. The air sucked out of the room, taking all the sound with it. Willa tensed at the large foreboding figure in front of her.

Aunt Jenny had come home, all right. And she wasn’t alone.

A word about the author...

Born and raised on the Haida Gwaii, off the West Coast of Canada, J.C. McKenzie grew up in a pristine wilderness that inspired her to dream. She writes Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance.

You can visit her website at:

www.jcmckenzie.ca

Thank you for purchasing
this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.