That Old Black Magic, Book 3
Willa Jameson is having one whopper of an identity crisis. Odd memory flashes that aren’t hers. A sultry voice in her head that’s obsessed with sex. Even weirder, she finds herself in the jaws of a rogue leviathan, dragged to the bottom of the ocean—and rescued by a hunky…shark?
The last thing Sheriff Max Truitt expects to find on his daily, deep-Atlantic patrol is a human—especially one who breathes underwater. Compelled to take her home, he waits for the beauty to wake up and reveal her name. Instead he’s treated to a punch in the nose, then a sexy romp hot enough to boil water.
The next morning, embarrassed by the sizzling, scandalous things the voice in her head drove her to do, Willa slips away. But if there’s one thing a determined shark excels at, it’s tracking his favorite meal.
Solving the mystery that is Willa is no simple task. When they finally unlock a dangerous secret hidden deep in her subconscious, it drives a wedge between them…and puts them in a desperate race against an evil that seeks to rain down a watery Armageddon on all mankind.
What the hell? He inched closer, his focus glued to her slackened lips. Was she…breathing?
He swept his gaze lower and swore he detected the faint rise and fall of her chest. Maybe it was merely his imagination, or an optical illusion perpetuated by the constant ebb and flow of water buffeting her.
Cursing the present lack of fingers that hindered him from performing a thorough examination, he shot a glance in the direction of the leviathan’s limp body. Not giving himself time to rethink the wisdom of abandoning his shark form while a deadly predator lay less than fifty feet away, he shifted into his human skin and pressed his middle and index fingers against her carotid artery.
Sure enough, the steady drumming of her pulse verified his suspicions. He exhaled in bewildered shock, expelling his own series of oxygen-loaded bubbles.
His brain immediately snapped into investigative mode and began cycling through probabilities. Could she be a water shifter? One that didn’t require gills while in human form, like him? Possibly, but something kept him from clinging too tightly to that theory. For starters, it made no sense that she wouldn’t have shifted into her alter form when the leviathan snatched her. Even with an ability to breathe under water, a shifter remained a thousand times more vulnerable in their human skin. Unless she’d been unconscious when the beast grabbed her—and what were the odds?—she wouldn’t have left herself open to attack.
Well, whatever the hell she was, he couldn’t leave her stranded in the middle of the damn Atlantic.