Maximum Witch - By Jodi Redford Page 0,19
above the surf, her long, silvery-blonde hair whipping frantically in the brewing tempest. Cold dark eyes flashed with hatred. “You will all die. Every last one of you.”
Behind the spectral vision, a terrifying wall of water crested into a towering peak. Its roar deafening, the tidal wave swelled, crashing into the rock.
Willa jerked into a sitting position, the frightening nightmare slowly dissolving. She stared into the darkness shrouding the bedroom, her heart galloping out of control. What the hell was that? Fingers trembling, she pushed aside a damp lock of hair sticking to her cheek.
It wasn’t the first time she’d experienced these dreams that felt all too real. But this one had seemed even more…vivid than the others.
She scooched back onto the mattress and curled onto her side. Hugging the pillow to her chest, she sucked in a series of deep, calming breaths, attempting to get her pulse under control. She hated this part of her strange episodes—the jagged-edged panic that clawed at her insides like a beast determined to escape.
“You don’t have to be afraid.” The sultry voice sprang into Willa’s head, making her jolt.
She knew that voice. Though she’d never actually heard it use audible words, it’d called to her countless times in the past week, usually moments before she blacked out.
Panting in frantic desperation, she buried her head in the pillow. A distinctly feminine laugh floated inside her mind. Willa gnashed her teeth. Freaking great, the damn voice thinks my psychosis is hilarious.
“He can help you.” The pronouncement came with a seductive ripple of heat. “He possesses what you truly need.”
“Who?” The question popped from Willa before she could smother it, and she growled. She was already a walking candidate for a padded cell. Talking to the voices in her head would only guarantee her lifetime residency.
“You already know the answer.”
Almost as if it’d been choreographed, a rumbling snore broke from Max. A responding surge of moisture dampened the crotch of her panties. Damn it. Wasn’t being nuttier than a Snickers bar enough to deal with? Was it really necessary to heap being weirdly aroused by snores on top of it?
The voice chuckled, and Willa mentally gave it the bird.
“Go to him.”
“Shut up,” Willa whispered fiercely. “I’m not listening to you anymore.”
“Oh, yes you are.”
She opened her mouth to tell the taunting voice to go find another head to harass just as an overpowering wave of lust flooded her. Gasping, she clenched her thighs together, but that only seemed to intensify the sensation. She writhed, even the slide of her skin against the sheets an agonizing torment.
“He can make it all better.”
“You’re going to pay for this.”
“You’ll thank me in the morning.”
She flung the pillow to the foot of the bed and tried rolling onto her other side, but her body refused to cooperate. Max moved restlessly in his sleep, and the blanket twisted around his hips. She stared at the intriguing shadow play along the defined ridges of his abdomen. Desire, thick and headier than anything she’d experienced, shimmered through her. “Oh Goddess.”
Shivers wracking her, she swung her legs over the edge of the mattress and stumbled toward Max. Her legs were useless as putty and she nearly fell on top of him. He grunted, instantly jerking awake. “Willa, what is it?” His hands automatically steadied her and he cursed. “You’re burning up. I better call Boone.”
“No. You have what I need.”
“You’re feverish. Let me—” He broke off with another grunt when she caught his bottom lip between her teeth. His eyes widened. “Willa?” The word came out garbled, but there was no mistaking the confused shock underlying it.
She released him and licked her way inside his mouth, her tongue curling around his. Her fingers splayed on his chest, absorbing the shaky timbre of his groan. He was delicious beyond words. Scraping her teeth along his bristly jaw, she made her way to the underside and nipped him before sucking the tender spot with enough force to leave a hickey.
“Jesus. Sweetheart, what’s going on here?”
She lapped an upward path along his neck, and he swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing beneath her exploring tongue. Continuing her journey north, she bit his chin. “I’m having you.”
“I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“You’re right. It’s a brilliant one.”
“You damn well know that isn’t what I meant.”
“And you talk too much,” she admonished before kissing him again with hungry relish. She stretched flat on top of him, and his body tensed. The T-shirt rode up, leaving nothing but