1. Camille

A sudden gust of wind forced violent raindrops to bombard my living room window, making the glass rattle ominously.

Nestled snugly on the couch, I jerked my knees tighter against my chest, and my toes curled protectively inside my thick, cozy socks before I glanced at my muted television across the room to see if any severe weather warnings had popped up yet.

When I found no dooming forecast scrolling across the bottom of the screen, I went back to reading my Kindle, where my paranormal story had reached a particularly gruesome pinnacle.

Blood and body parts were flying liberally. So many bones had been broken in the span of the last five minutes that my own were beginning to ache in sympathy. I winced and nearly ducked for the heroine when a severed arm sailed past her head.

Though, really. I couldn’t fathom why she’d followed the hero out there in the middle of the night, to begin with, when she knew exactly what he turned into during the full moon. Just because he’d told her he loved her didn’t mean he’d refrain from killing her along with everyone else once his monster was unleashed.

Silly character.

But then, I guess that would mean foolish me too because, more importantly, no one was forcing me to read this.

At night.

During a thunderstorm.

Creepy stories always kept me up, restless and alert to every creak and groan around me, especially when I’d been drinking. And yep, after a curious glance toward the coffee table, I noticed my wineglass was empty. As was the bottle sitting next to it.

Sleep would most definitely be eluding me tonight.

But I didn’t particularly care. My big vice was romance novels. I just loved them. And the cheesier and sappier and more unrealistic they got, the more I invested myself in them because, by that point, it was pretty much only the emotions they seemed to evoke that mattered. They were just so yummy and fulfilling and...and amazing. I devoured them like potato chips, damning any sleepless-night consequences that might follow.

So basically, I was pretty much determined to finish this entire book tonight.

The monster who had once been Declan, her lascivious lover—

Cue eye roll from me, but a brief one, because this shit was too intense to spend a whole lot of time making fun of right now. Maybe later, though, since finding the problems was almost as fun as reading the good parts. It made me feel like a detective, sussing out these little issue eggs that—

But yeah. Later.

—spun at her gasp. His eyes glowed red with lust and hatred as they focused on her, causing a throb of primal yearning to pulsate between her legs.

“Oh, geesh, really?” I muttered. “You just watched this dude rip out your history professor’s throat, and now you want to get freaky with him after turning him down so many times when he was being sweet and kind and generous in his human form? Unbelievable.”

Except I bet the scene that followed was going to be too hot to resist, so sign me up right alongside her because I was the one who flipped the page on my e-reader, eager to see what happened next.

Celeste stretched out a trembling hand and called his name, imploring, “I know you’re in there, my love. Stop this madness and come back to me.”

The fur-covered beast arched his neck—long snout gaping, sharp fangs flashing in the moonlight—and spread his arms wide at his sides before roaring his frustration into the night. His need to kill warred with the devotion for her blooming from his human side.

“I love you,” Celeste said simply, her damp, translucent gown fluttering against her heaving breasts. “Kill no more. I beg it.”

Right…

Melodramatic dialogue notwithstanding, I still wasn’t sure when it had started raining to even make her gown damp. Or were her clothes wet and clinging—sorry, make that fluttering—from mere sweat after her long, strenuous dash through the night to find him? And why had she gone out barefoot in her silky, white translucent nightgown?

Shoes. Socks. Long, warm pants and sweatshirts, maybe even some gloves and a stocking cap. Survival, people. It was actually a thing some considered important. And it wouldn’t have taken her long to throw them on before tracking Dec down, either. I mean, come on, Celeste. What were you thinking?

But I guess I had to give her props for being so brave. Utterly stupid, but still…brave. And all in the name of love, too.

A jealous, longing sigh hissed from my lungs. It was just so freaking romantic.

I doubted I would ever be so brave for any reason. And I definitely couldn’t imagine any man changing his natural inclinations just because he loved me above all else.

But wouldn’t that be something? A love so strong and resilient that it defied logic and reason.

Damn, I idolized these books. I’d totally be messaging the author after this to tell her how much I adored her story.

Curious to know if this all-consuming devotion they spoke of really could conquer this dude’s bloodlust, I polished off the next paragraph in record time as Declan beat his clawed fists—yes, I quote, clawed fists—against his chest, fighting an internal battle of wills before, finally—decision made—he dropped his arms, the hair on them giving way to human flesh and his fangs retracting as he focused on her and—

The screen of my Kindle went blank.

Battery dead.

“What? No!” I screeched.

No way had I gagged my way through all the heroine’s cheesiness just to be denied the hot, elemental werewolf sex that surely followed. The culmination of their everlasting love finally being unleashed into a physical manifestation would’ve been too epic to miss, too. I just knew it.

And wow, was it just me, or were my thoughts beginning to sound as tacky as the book’s? I think the supernatural power of its corniness was beginning to rub off.

Yikes.

It was probably for the best that I was taking a break from it. Except now I was going to have to freaking wait for the one scene I’d been dying to reach. Which just would not do.

So, yeah… I really had to finish it. Like, immediately.

“Damn you, catchy story,” I muttered, tossing off the fluffy, Sherpa blanket I’d been burrowed in and huffing out my aggravation as I crawled from my couch nest in order to find a charging cord.

But, huh, I couldn’t remember if I’d left the cord next to my bed or on the kitchen counter. I probably should leave it in one spot, but then I wouldn’t be able to read and charge while I was cooking supper or while I was snuggled in bed or—

Buy more charging cords; that’s what I’d do.

Yep. Adding that to my mental shopping list now.

Finally finding my cord in the bathroom from when I’d been reading while I’d blow-dried my hair for work this morning, I plugged it in there and decided to continue with the rest of the story on my phone. It’d be a smaller screen, but at least I wouldn’t have to wait another five minutes to let my reader charge enough to turn on again.

Now…

Where the heck had I left my phone?

Not in my purse. Or on my nightstand. Not on its charging portal or in the kitchen. Not with a fox or on a box.

Except wait. Maybe it was in the kitchen. It was kind of hard to tell at the moment. Grumbling about the mess on my countertops, I haphazardly tossed the cardboard container that had housed my TV dinner from supper along with an emptied packet of cocoa mix into the trash. Then I piled a few dirty plates into my arms before filing them into the dishwasher. But my phone hadn’t been hiding under the mess.

Oh well. At least I’d gotten something productive done in the search, so it hadn’t been a total lost cause.

“Oh, phone,” I called, shuffling from the kitchen to check in my room again as I pressed my hand to my head when wooziness from the wine began to hit. “Here, girl. Come to Mama. Help her finish her book, huh?”

Not in a million years did I actually expect the phone to answer, so when “Crazy” by Gnarls Barkley suddenly echoed from the living room, I let out a startled yelp and nearly jumped out of my skin, then pressed a hand against my chest to keep my leaping heart from beating right out of my rib cage.

“Uh…”

Nah, that wasn’t eerie at all, nope. So not going to wig out about the fact that my phone had actually answered my summons.

In reply, my phone merely kept blasting the song I’d assigned as the ringtone for my grandma’s calls.

Realizing she was the one trying to get a hold of me, I hissed, “Shoot,” and scampered toward the front room to retrieve my cell from the coffee table where I finally remembered I had specifically left it so it’d be nearby in case she needed me.

Because Gran always called when it stormed.

“Hey,” I answered breathlessly as I snagged the phone to answer her, wincing the whole time from the dizziness that rushing around had caused. “Everything okay? Did your electricity go out again?”

The electricity in her apartment went out basically every time the clouds gathered over her building and merely contemplated rain.

“No, dear,” she said. “I mean, yes. But only for a moment. It’s back on now.”

Which meant her cable was on the fritz, then, and needed to be reset. I had tried to talk her through the process of getting it back online over the phone enough times by now to know explaining the steps and expecting her to understand them wouldn’t work, so I held in a sigh while I said, “Okay, I’ll be right over.”

Celeste and Declan’s sexy fates were going to have to wait just a little longer to be revealed.

“Oh, thank you, baby,” Gran gushed. “But there’s no hurry. Really. I’m fine right here without my trusty weather channel and therefore any idea if the storm is going to take a turn for the worse or not. I mean, if a tornado comes along and sweeps me away, unaware, we’ll just chalk it up to being my time to go, I guess.”

I grinned even as I rolled my eyes at the overdramatized rendition of her circumstances in order to hurry me along after she’d just told me to take my time. Gran was a master at manipulating me into coming over, though I really didn’t know why. I probably spent more voluntary time at her place than I did at home. She never had to guilt-trip me into stopping by.

I’d been a hopeless grandma’s girl ever since I was seven and had moved in with her because my parents had split and didn’t really want me around anymore. They both decided to start new lives with new families, so it’d just been me and Gran from there on out. Meaning, I took my granddaughter duties very seriously. Ergo, it was plumb strange to me why she ever bothered trying to finagle bonding time together because I always had a slot in my day open for my favorite person on the planet. I would’ve gone to her whether she’d begged or not.

My gaze fell on my own television as I said, “The weather looks fine, Gran.” And it did. From the little map posted in the bottom left-hand corner, the rain seemed to be just finishing up and moving out of our area for the night.

Thank goodness, too. Because I’d be walking to Grandma’s house on foot. After a bottle of wine, driving definitely wouldn’t be on the agenda, that’s for sure. And I didn’t particularly relish the idea of dashing a dozen blocks through a downpour to reach her. I seriously doubted I’d look as appealing as Celeste with soaked clothes and streaming wet hair.

“But I’ll be over soon, anyway,” I assured.

“Honestly,” she argued in her sweet, innocent voice that was completely fake because Gran was neither sweet nor innocent. Spicy and full of mischief was way more her style. “There’s no need to—”

“I’ll be right there,” I cut her off with a laugh. Silly woman. Of course, I’d be right there, even though I was also eager to get back to my story, where werewolf sex was waiting.

I repeat, werewolf sex.

“I mean, if you’re entertaining some handsome young man, you really shouldn’t bother with your old—”

“You know I’m not,” I told her dryly, rolling my eyes as I scoured the floor for my shoes.

“Well, I’m not sure why you’re not,” she retorted tartly. “You’re a beautiful, bright, charming girl. You should have scores of men just jostling for your attention.”

Ha! I wish.

“Then, I guess I’m just trying to settle on one good enough for me,” I muttered, growing gloomy because man-talk always made me glum. “So I’ll be there soon, okay. Love you, bye.”

And I hung up before Gran could add anything else to make me feel miserable and alone.

Gritting my teeth, I growled at myself. But damn, hanging up on her probably wasn’t smart. I was going to have to bring apology presents now to make up for it.

I just hadn’t been in the mood for the usual lecture about how I needed a husband and babies. Especially not with a three-quarters finished story just waiting for me to return to.

It wasn’t like I wanted to be alone. If given the choice, I’d gladly be the type to get married and pop out a couple of kids. I was all for settling down and getting in some happily-ever-after time for myself with a nice Hallmark-movie ending. I totally dug the idea of being a woman who had it all: a family, a career, and a love that transcended storybooks. But it just hadn’t happened yet.

And now that I was closing in on the big 3-0, I was beginning to doubt it ever would happen, either. So I had resigned myself to a solitary fate.

Why didn’t Gran realize she was digging the knife in deeper and turning it in my chest every time she brought the topic up? It was as if she thought nagging me about it enough would suddenly inspire me to magically make it so. Geesh.

“If I could make it so,” I muttered, tugging on a pair of ankle boots over my fuzzy socks. “I would. Damn, Gran. My fairy godmother must be in the shop or something because this hopeless princess just ain’t getting a happily-ever-after fairy tale.”

Pausing, I blinked down at my around-the-house flannel pants I was still wearing and then shrugged, deciding I didn’t care how I looked. They were clean enough. The only people who’d see me, anyway, were Gran plus any stranger I might pass on the street. And the first wouldn’t mind, while the second didn’t matter.

Finding a hoodie draped over the back of my easy chair, I pulled it on and then grabbed my purse before returning to the kitchen to scour the cabinets for food.

I found a half-empty box of Little Debbie’s cream-filled fancy cakes in the cupboard, so I dumped them into the opening of my purse and moved to the fridge to find a full bottle of chilled wine and an unopened package of those pre-sliced cheeses.

Yep. That would appease Gran just fine. After digging around a second to fit everything nice and snug into the mammoth bag, I turned off all the lights and locked up after myself.

I wasn’t sure why my grandmother wouldn’t just move in with me. But every time I brought up the subject, she adamantly declined.

I suppose it was possible she thought I’d make a bad roommate. I wasn’t exactly a neat freak, and I rarely cooked, like, real meals. But maybe she wanted to feel independent or not like a burden.

Whatever the case, I had eventually stopped asking, and we both continued to live apart.

Apart and alone.

But I wasn’t going to let that depress me either.

Making my way outside and onto the sidewalk, I hummed “Does that make me crazy,” under my breath as I dodged fresh puddles in my path and tried not to think about all the possible dangers the night might hold.

I’d be fine, I assured myself. I had survived every other trip I’d made down this block. I’d survive this one too. And so... Drawing in a lungful of the cool, invigorating air, I started my journey.

The city was still wet from the recent rain and not many people had crawled out of the various holes they’d harbored themselves in since the storm had finished. It was actually really nice to have so much of the sidewalk to myself. Made me feel like I was tranquilly wandering through an urban forest, exploring my cement woodland however I pleased.

With a content sigh, I merrily swung my purse at my side and lifted my nose to the night, noticing that the clouds had cleared away enough to reveal some stars. I smiled and closed my eyes, relishing the chill that hit my cheeks.

I didn’t hear the approaching footsteps until it was too late when a solid mass collided with my shoulder, nearly knocking it out of joint and causing my purse to tear free of my arm and slip out of my grasp.