Witch Way to Turn

by Karen Y. Bynum

  Cover Copy

  Can you give one guy your heart and another your soul?

  The last thing eighteen-year-old Breena Cross needs in her life is more complications. It’s all she can do to balance studying, working, trying to keep her foster-sister safe and drooling over the new guy at work. But things go from complicated to crazy when a fit of rage ignites the dark magic inside her and she finds herself fending off the supernatural underworld.

  Myles, Breena’s drool-worthy coworker and vampire convict, is carrying a load of secrets–one of which is that he’s fang-over-lip in love with Breena and in danger of violating the terms of his sentence.

  Orin is a soul-hungry assassin sent to kill Breena. However, he takes one look into her eyes and sees his own lost humanity. For once thinking of someone other than himself, he chooses not to end her life, even though it means risking his own.

  Despite a convict and an assassin fighting over her, all Breena wants is custody of her sister. But to do this, she will need help from both Myles and Orin. And if Breena doesn’t learn to control the darkness within, she could lose her sister…forever.

  WARNING: Contains strong language and some graphic content.

  Teaser

  She caught his look. Oh God, she’d been staring. Her mouth was practically watering. The heat forming in her cheeks brought her back to reality. And the way he watched her nearly brought her to her knees. Looking into those pale-green eyes with the golden rim made her weak, left her breathless. He couldn’t be more than eighteen or nineteen but there was a knowing look in his eyes that made her want to find out what, exactly, he knew.

  She took a step toward him and the knowing look turned darker, hotter. There was something raw about it. Something ravenous, and so powerful she could barely keep herself from being consumed.

  He tilted his head slightly in her direction, and it seemed almost as if he was…listening to her. As if he were trying to puzzle her out by catching the subtle beat and hum of her body.

  It finally dawned on her that they’d been standing there a good while in complete silence. She managed to shake herself out of her lust-filled stupor long enough to recover something vaguely resembling her manners. “Ah, about the other night… Thanks.”

  Witch Way to Turn

  Karen Y. Bynum

  Witch Way to Turn

  9781616503994

  Copyright © 2012, Karen Y. Bynum

  Edited by Danielle Fine

  Book design by Lyrical Press, Inc.

  Cover Art by Renee Rocco

  First Lyrical Press, Inc. electronic publication: August, 2012

  Lyrical Press, Incorporated

  http://www.lyricalpress.com

  eBooks are not transferable. All Rights Reserved. This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  PUBLISHER'S NOTE:

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

  Published in the United States of America by Lyrical Press, Incorporated

  Dedication

  For my husband, who makes my world a brighter place…

  Acknowledgements

  First, I’d like to thank God for giving me the desire and passion to write. I’m so happy to have found what it is I want to be when I grow up.

  A huge thank you to everyone at Lyrical Press, Inc. for taking a chance on me and giving my characters the gift of publication. To my amazing editor, Danielle Fine, for believing in me, always pushing me outside of my comfort zone and encouraging me the entire way. To my publisher, Renee Rocco, for creating a beautiful cover that I adore and patiently answering all my questions. To my fellow Lyrical Press authors for their support and shout outs in the social media world, y’all rock.

  To my wonderful beta-readers: Becca, Bethany, Judith, Kellie and Tina. Thank you so much for reading draft after draft after draft. Your feedback and belief has been invaluable to me, and I truly can’t say thank you enough.

  To my lovely readers, I would be nowhere without you. Thank you for taking a chance on a debut author.

  To my dear friends in the Chesapeake Romance Writers’ group, your encouragement and constant support, no matter what stage I’m going through, has been a blessing and I am thankful for each and every one of you.

  To my coworkers at city hall, thank you for supporting me, asking me questions about my stories and being so generous in spreading the word about my writing.

  To my faithful Twitter followers who are interested in what I have to say, and encourage and entertain me daily, thank you.

  To my Romance Critters group for their critiques and vast working knowledge of the industry, I have learned so much from you.

  To my parents and grandparents, family and dear friends, you have my gratitude and respect. Your support and encouragement has meant the world to me, and I hope to continue to make you proud. I love you.

  To my dearest husband, you are simply remarkable. When I saw you for the first time in eleventh grade, I remember thinking there’s something about this boy. I’m gonna make him mine. And you’ve been by my side ever since. You have been supportive through everything, not just writing. You made my world a brighter place to live in. When I was neck-deep in edits, you would bring me special treats from the grocery store…just because. And I’ll never forget when you surprised me with a bottle of champagne and we toasted my very first contract. You are truly the love of my life, and I thank God every day for you.

  Chapter 1

  Breena Cross glanced at her watch.

  Seven o’clock.

  Only two more hours until her shift at the pharmacy ended.

  Jenny’ll be fine, she reassured herself for the tenth time that day.

  Breena bit her bottom lip and pushed the hand-truck, piled high with boxes, over to the shopping cart to be unloaded.

  Why couldn’t life be as simple as stocking shelves? Open a box, take something out, put it away. But hell no. Her life swarmed with bad–a hornet’s nest of complications. Blowing out a breath, she sliced open the top of a cardboard box with a cutter and groped inside.

  “Need a hand?” Myles came out of nowhere–a habit of his.

  Breena jerked. “Shit.” The bottle of aspirin shot away from her but he plucked it out of the air before it had a chance to hit the concrete floor.

  “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “No worries.” With his lean muscular frame inches from her, fear was the farthest thing from her mind. She looked up at him, and his trademark lopsided grin made her want to swoon like an idiot. His silky black hair curled over his forehead and, despite the smooth line of his cheekbones, his steel-blue eyes made him seem older than twenty-one.

  He offered her the pills. The intensity in his eyes held her, and she groped awkwardly for the bottle. “Thanks.” She smiled and, out of habit, tilted her head to flick her brown hair forward.

  “Don’t hide them, Bree. I love your dimples.” Myles tucked the fallen strands behind her ear.

  The tip of his finger grazed her earlobe, sending a quiver racing down her spine. Her face heated up faster than a Fourth of July picnic by the dam. He’d never touched her on purpose before and the gentleness of his caress left her empty of words.

  He’d onl
y worked at the pill-pharm a few weeks and already he’d begun to pull her out of her self-imposed solitary confinement. Despite being a loner himself, he always seemed to know when she needed someone and never failed to be in the right place at the right time. Sometimes, she thought there was more between them than she understood. A weird connection.

  Like now.

  The air practically sparked with electricity, and there was a strange, hot light in his eyes. Her heart raced and she prayed he didn’t notice her chest heaving.

  He leaned forward until his body was a breath from her own.

  Finally.

  She closed her eyes. Waited. Seconds ticked by.

  Nothing.

  Omigod, my eyes are still closed.

  Quickly she opened them to find Myles gathering more bottles. Clearly, the moment had passed.

  “How’s Jenny?” Myles asked, like it was business as usual in pharmacyland.

  “Fine.” Realizing she was still clutching the aspirin bottles, she set them in the cart.

  She felt him staring and hustled to stack another row in line with the others.

  There was something about the way he looked at her. Like he knew her. Like he’d always known her. It stripped her to the soul. Made her vulnerable. Still, she wanted to trust him. As she opened her mouth to ask how he was doing, her cell rang.

  She froze. Her foster-sister was the only person who’d be calling her. Hands trembling, she yanked the cheap flip-phone from her back pocket, almost dropping it.

  “Jenny, what’s wrong?” Breena clutched the phone to her ear so hard her knuckles turned white.

  “Norma left early.”

  “You alone?” She held her breath.

  “No. He’s here,” Jenny whispered.

  Breena’s stomach knotted. “It’s gonna be all right. My shift’s almost over. Stay in your room with the door locked until I get there. Okay?” She forced herself to sound calm and reassuring, despite the burning fear in her gut.

  “Okey dokey.” Jenny’s voice lightened.

  “See ya later, terminator.”

  “After awhile, nail file.”

  She slid her cell into the butt-pocket of her jeans and terror crawled up her spine. The scumbag might be on his way to Jenny’s room right now. A seven-year-old girl shouldn’t be in a house alone with a man who could drink his body weight in whisky. Norma, the foster-mom from hell, had done this before. Just not with Stan, the new boyfriend.

  “Go. I can cover for you, Bree,” Myles said.

  A wave of relief swept over her, tinged with guilt. “You just got this job. I can’t ask you to do that.” The words slipped out on autopilot but she knew she’d take off, either way.

  “You didn’t. I offered.”

  “Thank you.” Ears ringing, Breena bolted for the tiny gray break room. She grabbed her purse from her locker and raced out the side exit. Before the door banged shut, she caught a glimpse of Myles watching her, his piercing blue eyes full of concern.

  Daylight had faded and the sweeping shadows outside mirrored something dark and seething inside her. Breena didn’t have time to explore the sensation but, as she swung into her car, the darkness in her rose and her palms tingled.

  Norma had promised to wait until Breena got off work before taking Real Daughter to Boone for the weekend. She should’ve known Norma would break her word, leaving Jenny home alone with sleazebag-of-the-week.

  Breena forced the gearshift into first, pumped the clutch and peeled out of Granite Drug’s parking lot. Her reckless driving would be tomorrow’s gossip but she didn’t care. One more reason to love the podunk town of Rhodhiss, North Carolina.

  She floored it and her 1980s Volkswagen Beetle lurched to the side of the street. She grappled it back into a straight line and, at the first road past the bridge, made a hard left onto Dogwood Drive. After a right down the short driveway in front of Norma’s paint-chipped, two-story shanty, gravel crunched under her tires and the all-too-familiar dread washed over her.

  She cut off the headlights and pulled up to the house. Scumbag Stan’s enormous I’ve-gotta-be-compensating-for-something silver truck was still here.

  Fuck.

  She’d hoped he had maybe gotten bored and left.

  The streetlamp on the far right corner of the property was on the blink and darkness surrounded the house, except for the blue TV glow coming through the porch windows. For once she actually wanted to find him passed out on the couch.

  She crept up the front steps and opened the screen door with one swift motion so it wouldn’t squeak. Inside, sweat beaded her forehead in the still, heavy heat of the house.

  F-ing cheapskate!

  Norma never turned on the air-conditioning, despite the stifling humidity of summer by the river.

  Inch by inch, Breena made her way into the foyer, praying like hell he wouldn’t hear her. If she could just get in, grab Jenny and leave without Stan being the wiser, everything would be okay. She laid her purse and keys on the table by the door, gripped the edge of the wall and peeked around the corner of the hallway. No telling what he’d be watching on TV–the dirtier the better with Stan.

  Damn redneck.

  Her sweaty palm slipped and she stumbled sideways. She managed to break her fall with her hands before doing a face plant, but she shot an anxious glance at the couch, fully expecting her clumsiness to have disturbed him.

  Surprisingly it hadn’t, because he wasn’t there.

  Shit.

  “Jenny?” she whispered.

  Her sister never followed directions, so the chances of her being upstairs were small. This time it would work to their advantage though. Breena could snatch her up and go.

  No answer.

  She raced through the dining room and into the kitchen, checking any small space where Jenny might hide.

  “Jenny?” she called out, louder this time.

  Silence.

  Breena swallowed hard and shot back the way she’d come.

  Heart racing, she clambered up the steps three at a time. She shook, afraid of what she might find.

  At the top of the stairs, she could see into Jenny’s bedroom.

  No Jenny.

  Where is she?

  As she edged down the hall and into the room, she scanned for movement. A sound. Anything.

  Then she heard it. The sharp creak of a heavy footstep on the hardwood behind her. Breena spun around to find Stan eyeing her up and down. He wore too-tight jean shorts and a white wifebeater with his chest hair sticking out.

  Breena’s stomach dropped to her feet when Stan closed the door and reached his calloused hand behind him to turn the lock.

  Trapped.

  She didn’t move. Didn’t even breathe. She couldn’t. Breena should’ve locked the door as soon as she came in, but she hadn’t found Jenny. Where was she? Was she okay?

  Breena saw something out the corner of her eye–a tiny movement. Two garments hanging in the closet parted ever so slightly and Jenny’s big brown eyes peered out, opening wider when she spotted Stan.

  Relief swept through her. At least Jenny was all right. Too bad Breena had no idea what to do now.

  Not daring to take her eyes off Stan, Breena inched backward each time he shifted his weight. Pretty soon she’d run out of room but until then she had no other options.

  Stan stroked his stubble as he watched her. Breena had seen him do the same thing right before taking Norma into the bedroom and doing God-only-knew-what to her. The difference was, Norma got off on it.

  “Little old fer my likin’, but you’ll do. Off with the shirt.” He hadn’t even moved from the door but she felt the sweaty-handed touch of his words on her skin.

  Breena wanted to throw up. “No.”

  “I weren’t askin’.” He took two steps forward, putting his back fully to the closet.

  Breena held her ground. As long as Stan was looking at her, he wasn’t looking at Jenny and that was the important thing. No matter what, she wouldn’t let that
fucker lay one finger on her sister.

  No matter what.

  Stan lumbered forward and let out a whisky belch that made her stomach churn. He had his drunk on all right. Maybe that would work to her advantage though. Before she could figure out how, he threw a fisted blow at her, hitting her with such force she fell onto the bed. He towered over her, lust in his eyes. His junk was eye-level, bulging against his shorts.

  Oh God. Omigod.

  Scrambling backward, Breena smacked into the headboard. She glimpsed her sister crawling out of the closet. Jenny would surely make it to the door before Stan noticed her. She had to. Breena couldn’t stand the thought of her having to see this.

  Stan reached down and jerked Breena across the bed. The smell of burnt tobacco assaulted her nose as he clamped his hands over her wrists, pushing her flat against the mattress. When he bent over her and let go of one of her arms to scrabble at her jeans, she clawed his face with her free hand. He caught it again before she did much damage, so she kicked out, hoping to get him in the balls. He might be stronger than her, but she wouldn’t make this easy for him. She had no illusions about getting out of this undamaged but he’d have to pay for each and every touch.

  He flopped heavily on top of her, pinning her completely with the weight of his body. She couldn’t bear the victory in his eyes so she turned her head, only to be met by a sight so much worse.

  Jenny.

  Her sister had crept across the floor and now crouched at Stan’s legs.

  “Jenny, no!” she shouted.

  Suddenly, Stan unleashed a string of profanity and reached for his leg. Jenny sat hunched on the ground next to him, her mouth covered in blood.

  She’d bitten off a chunk of his calf. A chunk!

  “Fuckin’ shit!” He swung at Jenny and the powerful blow knocked her flat on her back.

  Anger surged through her. Unable to look away from Jenny lying motionless on the floor, Breena fumbled behind her for a weapon. While Stan crouched over Jenny–hiking up her skirt–she brought it down hard on his head.