For those of you who haven’t downloaded my Whispers boxed set, it’s on sale today for just .99 as part of Ereader News Today’s Book of the Day promotion. I’d like to give a shout out to Greg from ENT for going out of his way to feature my book. Thanks so much! Please download your copy now if you haven’t picked it up yet. That’s three YA paranormal books for one low price. 🙂
Go to Ereader News Today to see the promo and get your Kindle, Nook or iTunes copy now.
Divine and Dateless by Tara West
Releasing July 21, 2014
Good girls go to heaven. Bad girls go all the way…
What can be worse than electrocuting yourself while getting ready for your internet date? Realizing the hot stud you’ve been fondling is the grim reaper? Being chased by a sex-crazed bloated, naked corpse?
How about an eternity of more bad hair days and horrific dates? Or lusting after the one guy in all of the afterlife whose hydrophobia rivals his fear of commitment?
Yeah, that’s a whole lot worse.
Chapter One
Damn that hurt.
I grabbed onto the bathroom counter and slowly pulled myself up, stumbling around a bit before I steadied myself against the wall. That’s when I got a good look at my reflection in the mirror.
Omigod!
Despite the fact that my reflection was a bit blurry, probably due to the fact I’d hit my head pretty hard on that fall, my hair looked like an electrified mop. I couldn’t go on a date like that. Roger would take one look at me, accuse me of faking my profile picture, and make a dash for the elevator. As if I wouldn’t have a hard enough time explaining why I was five years older and five (okay ten) pounds heavier than that Bahama bikini photo.
I sighed when I thought back to the girl getaways I used to take with Jodi and Sheri. Those were amazing times: margarita binges, detox shakes, size five bikinis, one-night stands and ribbed condoms. I took that photo after an amazing night with the Swede, Rolf or Ven, or something like that. His name didn’t matter. What did matter was his size thirteen shoe and big hands, very big hands. Speaking of that beach fling, we could have made a long distance relationship work, if only he’d spoken English, or at least hadn’t pretended he couldn’t understand me.
I wondered the size of Roger’s hands. Did he have a strong grip like my surly Swede? Or were they perfectly manicured like my last date, Craig the hair stylist, who was one wax and peel away from escaping the closet of denial and giving his very religious grandma a heart attack. If only Craig had listened to me when I suggested he come out to his granny and then smooth things over by offering her a free pluck and color.
I tried to slick my hair back in place, but the strands felt as unmanageable as a wire brush. What the hell? I hoped that shock hadn’t done any permanent damage to my follicles. I had just spent a small fortune at the salon for auburn highlights and a deep conditioning treatment. No more putting it off. Next paycheck I would go to the drugstore and get another blow dryer. This wasn’t the first time it had zapped me, but it was definitely the worst.
I whirled at the sound of a knock on the door. Was Roger here early? I stumbled out of the bathroom and checked the microwave clock in my cramped studio kitchen. Six thirty-six. He was twenty-four minutes early! What was I going to do about my hair?
I rushed to the kitchen sink and splashed some water on it and tried again to push it down, but it must have been spring-loaded because it popped right back up.
More knocking. This time it was louder and more persistent.
What the heck, Roger?
The guy wasn’t exactly making a good first impression.
“Okay, okay,” I groaned as I grabbed a hair band from the gym bag I kept by the front door.
I read somewhere if you kept a packed gym bag in a convenient location, it was good motivation to keep on a steady workout schedule. So far, it was working, because I’d been steadily going to the gym once every two or three months.
I did my best to tie my hair back while trying to tamp down my aggravation as the incessant knocking grew ever louder. I grabbed the door handle and let out a slow exhale. I was so tempted to tell Roger the date was off, but I was haunted by the echo of my mom’s familiar nagging voice.
“You’re too picky, Ash. Mr. Tall, Dark, and Perfect is a fairytale. Settle down before all the decent ones are taken.”
I laughed as I recalled being in my early twenties and my mom had encouraged me to be pickier about whom I brought home. But that was ten (okay fifteen) pounds ago, and that was way before Travis dumped me for his forty-two-year-old law school professor. Lately, as long as the guy had all his teeth and a functioning penis, Mom was trying to rush me to the altar.
The incessant knocking turned into all-out banging.
Damn, Roger! As if I don’t have enough problems with my neighbors.
I was so aggravated I didn’t even bother to check the peephole when I jerked open the door.
“Is that really necessary?” I growled, before I got a good look at Roger. But then I did get a good look at my date, and my jaw practically hit the floor. Wow, he looked nothing like his profile picture.
Tall. Check.
Wavy, dark hair and a strong jawline. Check.
Impossibly blue eyes. Check.
Broad shoulders and rippling, tanned muscles. Double check.
I did my best to strike a casual pose as I leaned against the doorframe, but I feared I would melt all over the floor in a puddle of lust instead.
Mister, you can bang down my door any time.
He arched a dark brow while eyeing me with a smirk. “Ashley MacLeod?”
“Everyone calls me Ash, but yeah. So sorry. I wasn’t expecting you for another half hour. I had a bit of a blow dryer accident.” I smoothed an errant lock of frizz behind my ear. “I’m not ready.”
“They never are.” He laughed.
And just like that, a bubble burst in my chest. I should have figured him for a Casanova. I was sure he went out with a different girl every weekend. Then again, judging by the confident tilt of his chin and the way those stone-washed jeans clung to his thick legs (and that bulge beneath his zipper), I was fairly certain each of his dates ended in mind-blowing sex. I was also thinking I wanted to end our date the same way, because Casanova or not, I was getting tired of buying batteries.
“Right.” I pushed back another strand of hair that immediately popped out of place. “Maybe you should wait in the downstairs lobby. There’s a soda machine. Don’t drink the coffee. It’s usually a few days old.” I took a step back and prepared to close the door.
“I’ve got a schedule to keep.”
I wasn’t sure, but I thought I heard the slight hint of a southern drawl, which didn’t make a lot of sense because I was almost positive Roger’s profile said he’d lived in Seattle his whole life. Casanova blocked the door with his foot, stepped forward and practically filled the entire doorway with his large frame.
That’s when it hit me. Roger’s profile said five-foot-ten, one hundred and eighty-five pounds, brown eyes, and pale skin. A dentist, he spent most of his days indoors and his past-times included going to the movies and playing fantasy football. But this guy hogging my doorway could have played real football as a linebacker.
I pointed at him with an accusatory finger. “You look nothing like your profile.”
He pushed past me, frowning as he surveyed my cramped apartment. “What were you expecting? Hood and cape and a giant scythe?”
“A what?” I was suddenly feeling very self-conscious as he eyed my small kitchen table and even smaller fridge. Like Roger, I might have lied on my profile, too. I might have put that I was a defense attorney and not a law school dropout barely making a livable wage as a legal secretary.
He shrugged. “It was a joke.”
“Can I fix you a drink?” I asked as I did a mental count of how many diet sodas I had left in my fridge. Probably not enough to last until payday. Luckily, Roger looked more like a water guy, and I had plenty of free tap on hand.
“No, ma’am, I told you, I’ve got a schedule to keep.”
Oh, yeah, the southern drawl came across much thicker now, coating my senses like warm butter and sending a jolt of hormonal lust straight to my lady parts. I crossed one leg over the other, silently chastising myself for getting all hot and bothered by this guy when I didn’t even know who he was. Of one thing I was certain, he was a far cry from a meek, pale-faced dentist.
I narrowed my eyes and tilted my chin, trying to force myself to stop thinking about those tight, stone washed jeans. “You’re not a dentist.”
He laughed. “No, ma’am.”
I wasn’t fluent in southern speak, but I was fairly certain ma’am was a term reserved for older women. As if my frizzy hair wasn’t making me self-conscious enough, now he was calling me an old lady. That’s when I realized I still hadn’t applied fine line minimizer and foundation. I really wished Roger, or whoever he was, hadn’t showed up so soon. And I really wished he’d go downstairs and wait in the lobby while I made myself look more presentable, and hopefully younger.
“And you’re not from here, are you?”
He crossed one beefy arm over the other. “Born and raised in Houston.”
“That explains the sexy accent.” I mentally smacked myself upside the head. This was what happened when I got nervous. I said the first thing on my mind without wondering if I should have said it.
“Are you flirting with me, Ashley MacLeod?” I loved the way my name rolled off his tongue like warm chocolate sauce melting all over vanilla ice cream. Mmm. I was suddenly in the mood for a hot fudge sundae. I had the vision of me lapping ice cream and chocolate sauce off his abs, which I suspected were as rock hard as the rest of him.
I shook my head, trying to clear it of this lust-induced fog. It had been a while since I’d gotten laid by something that didn’t run on batteries. A long while. That had to be why my slut sonar was stuck in overdrive. What was with me getting all hot and bothered over this guy who’d clearly lied on his profile? Disregard the fact that I’d lied on my profile. I was actually looking forward to flirting my way into free teeth whitenings and cleanings (since my cheap health insurance had a five hundred dollar deductible) but this stud could have been a serial killer for all I knew.
Oh, please, God, don’t let him be a serial killer. He’s too sexy to be crazy.
I got a good long look at Fake Roger, and much to my embarrassment, I noticed he was sizing me up, too. But not in the way I wanted him to be looking at me. No, he had this impatient look in his eyes as his heavy boot tapped loudly on my linoleum floor. “We need to get going, ma’am.”
Crud. Another old lady reference. This will not do.
I didn’t give a damn about his schedule. I was not stepping foot out of the apartment until I (A) fixed this mop on my head and applied a generous amount of anti-ma’am foundation and (B) made sure Fake Roger was not a serial killer, or at the very least, that he had a job somewhat related to dentistry.
I took a step back, and then another, needing to put some distance between me and Mr. Hot Fudge Stud. “Give me a minute to fix my hair,” I said. And double-check Roger’s profile, I wanted to add, but decided to leave that part out.
“Relax,” Fake Roger said with perhaps too much ease in his deep southern drawl. “You’re going to The Penthouse. You can have any hairstyle you want there.”
“The Penthouse? I haven’t heard of it.” Instinctively, my hand went to my stomach at the thought of trying someplace new. I had been very clear with Roger that I could only dine at certain restaurants. I’d even sent him a list of safe places to eat. “Do they have a gluten-free menu?”
Little fun fact about me. If I so much as ate a crumb of wheat, barley or rye, I turned into a cross between Godzilla (only the flames came out the other end), a gremlin (not the sweet, cuddly kind) and a rabid dog. To put it mildly, me and gluten did not get along, which is why I had to be very, very careful where I ate. Because just in case Fake Roger turned out not to be a serial killer, and I decided to let him get past third base (who was I kidding? I was so desperate for a real penis, I would have slept with anything with a heartbeat) it would have really, really sucked if I was forced to trade in an explosive night of passion for an explosive night on the toilet.
“You can eat whatever you want,” Fake Roger said with a touch of annoyance. He motioned toward the front door. “Come on, let’s go. I’ve got a heart attack victim waiting.”
“Heart attack?” I gasped. “So you’re a doctor?” Maybe his profile said oncologist and I’d read it wrong. Even so, if he did have heart attack patient, what was he doing going on a date when he should have been saving this person’s life?
“A doctor?” He chuckled. “No, I’m a Grim.”
“Excuse me?”
“Angel of Death, Grim Reaper, Gabriel, Yama, Azrael, depending on your religion.”
Shit! Fake Roger is a weirdo.
I should have known. Despite being raised in a very religious household, I’d started to question if there even was a god. Because if there was a god, surely he wouldn’t have deprived me of sex with a real person for almost a year, only to have set me up with the world’s hottest psychopath. “This is a joke, right?”
Fake Roger, or Grim, or whoever the hell he was, scrunched up those handsome features of his and looked at me as if I’d just sprouted an arm out of the top of my head. “Have you seen yourself?”
“I know.” I groaned as I pushed back a wiry strand of hair that had slipped out of its headband. “I think I can fix this with a little conditioner and mousse. Excuse me.”
I turned on my heel and ran straight for the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. I forced myself to let out a shaky breath as I stared at the warped wooden door. I didn’t know why I was expecting Fake Roger to bang it down with a machete, but the guy was creeping me out. What the hell had that been about? Where had this guy come from and where was Roger?
The Angel of Death? Really?
Then it hit me. This guy might have actually been a genuine serial killer. One thing for sure, he was delusional if he thought he was the Grim Reaper.
I stood at the door for several seconds. When my arms and legs got this tingly, weightless feeling, I realized it must have been from fear. Then I remembered my cellphone. I had set it on the counter right before I got shocked.
I backed away from the door and spun around. That’s when I nearly tripped over my head.
My head!
My body was on the floor, my hair was fanned out in a wild mess, and my lifeless eyes were staring up at the ceiling. But wait. What was I doing down there when I was also up here?
I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror, or what was left of my reflection. The woman looking back at me was so pale, she was translucent. Why hadn’t I noticed that before?
Oh-my-freaking-god!
Panic seized me, and the only thing I knew to do was scream. I screamed at the woman in the mirror. I screamed at the corpse on the floor. I screamed and screamed until I thought my throat would turn raw. And though my brain was barely functioning, I knew Fake Roger was the Grim, and I was dead.
Hey, friends. I’m giving away some book swag over at YAlicious. Thanks to Melissa Pearl for hosting me and Jodi from Dazzling Creations for designing some of the swag. 
As always, members of my street team earn swag as well. If you’d like to know more about it, please message me at tara@tarawest.com . Membership is open to 18 and older.
Also, please don’t forget that Say Please is out now for only .99 on Kindle, iTunes, and Nook.
Andrés
I meant every word when I told my wife how much I appreciate the way she cares for our son, but no husband should have to fight for attention like a dog begging for table scraps. It’s about time I get some action.
Christina
I’m determined to show Andrés how much he means to me, and a romantic getaway is just what we need to rekindle our passion. But after neglecting him for so long, I hope he doesn’t make me beg for it.
🙂 Tara
For my Something More fans, Say Please is live! You can download my novella today for just .99 on Kindle, Kindle UK and Nook. Sony and iTunes links coming soon. Also included is a sneak peak at my new paranormal romantic comedy, Divine and Dateless, projected to release in June 2014.
Andrés
I meant every word when I told my wife how much I appreciate the way she cares for our son, but no husband should have to fight for attention like a dog begging for table scraps. It’s about time I get some action.
Christina
I’m determined to show Andrés how much he means to me, and a romantic getaway is just what we need to rekindle our passion. But after neglecting him for so long, I hope he doesn’t make me beg for it.
That’s right, my boxed set is just .99 until March 3. Get all books for one low price before it goes back to 4.99. 🙂
Download on Amazon, Amazon EU, B and N, iTunes.
Buy the Boxed set and save money!
The Whispers Boxed Set includes the first three books in the Whispers Series, Sophie’s Secret, Don’t Tell Mother, and Krysta’s Curse.
Sophie’s Secret, Book One
Sophie Sinora and her BFFs struggle to keep their strengthening paranormal powers secret while trying to fit in at school. Her teacher’s suicidal thoughts, a threatening locker bully, a teasing school flirt, her hormonal pregnant sister, and the tension between Sophie and her friends, only add to her problems. Hopefully, she can fix them in time to save her teacher’s life and her social life.
Don’t Tell Mother, Book Two
AJ’s mounting frustrations at home and school could turn her into a ticking time bomb. She knows the first step to solving her problems is to gain acceptance from her mother. Then AJ’s green-haired boyfriend knocks on the door. AJ’s ability to foretell the future is driving her and her mom further apart, and if she doesn’t tell her mom about her horrible vision soon, her brother will die.
Krysta’s Curse, Book Three
Krysta Richard’s ability to talk to spirits is getting in the way of her social life. Just as the chemistry between her and her lab partner, Bryon, is about to ignite, a homicide detective asks her to summon a murder victim, her drunk father suddenly takes an interest in her life and her dead friends enlist her in a crusade to save their decrepit cemetery.
* * *
Books four, five and six: Visions of the Witch, Sophie’s Secret Crush, and Witch Blood are not included in this collection.
Well, what do you think? I think my girls have outgrown the previous covers, so the entire series has been redesigned. Have you gotten a chance to read the series? I sure hope so. Sometimes updates take a while, but I expect the new covers to be showing up within the week. Be looking for book seven this fall. 🙂 
What do you think of Sophie? This ebook is free at all major ebook sites. Check out my Amazon page HERE.
AJ’s and Krysta’s covers are also my favorites.
Because I’ve had so many requests, I’ve decided to give readers one more Christina and Andrés story. It will be a novella, or novelette, not a full length book, as I do not have time in my writing schedule for anything longer, but it will give the reader a glimpse into their life four years after they first meet. I hope you will enjoy it. ❤ Tara
Whispers book six released today! On sale for .99 for just two days. Get yours now. Don’t Tell Mother and Krysta’s Curse is also on sale for .99! For a complete list of Tara West’s Whispers series, including free and .99 downloads, go here:
Witch Blood Amazon.
Witch Blood Amazon UK.
Witch Blood Nook.
iTunes link coming soon…
Witch Blood by Tara West: If Sophie Sinora survives tonight, she’s sure to be grounded for life. But that’s the least of her problems. She’s thousands of miles from home, people are not who they seem, and she doesn’t know friend from foe. She needs to keep her hot witch boyfriend, with an even hotter temper, from losing his cool before the incubus finds them and steals their souls. And she’d thought she was having a bad week when she sprouted that ginormous pimple on her nose. If only her life was that simple.
So I know Witch Blood’s release date was scheduled for the end of February, but it’s going to be out a little early, as in tomorrow! Please remember to load your Kindles and iPads with Sophie, AJ, and Krysta’s latest story. I hope you enjoy it! 
Here’s another scene from Witch Blood:
“Ethan, I’m sorry.” I reached toward him, but he jerked away.
“Not as sorry as Sleznick’s going to be,” he growled.
“Efan, you’re too hot. Get away,” his sister whined.
When Ethan scooted toward me, I gasped. The heat radiating off his body buzzed with this strange ominous hum. Oh, this was so not good.
In all my life, I’d never been as scared as I was now. We were being hunted by a demon with powers beyond our knowledge, and my boyfriend was set on killing him. I got this sick roiling feeling in my gut that Ethan would be the one killed instead, and me and Kaylee along with him.
“You can’t go after him.” The edge of fear that punctured my words was sharper than a razor blade. “You don’t know what he’s capable of.”
Ethan kept his gaze forward, and I held my breath as his hair stood on end and his entire face turned blood red. He squeezed his hands in his lap, his arms and shoulders stiff, the veins in his neck bulging like raging rivers. “I don’t care. I’m going to kill him.”
“AJ and her family will be here in a few hours. We need to wait for them.”
Ethan just stared straight ahead, his face a mask of stone and his eyes unblinking.
Panic alarms were ringing in my ears. What was Ethan planning? He couldn’t risk exposing us to Sleznick. The incubus would kill us all. I wasn’t ready to die. I was barely a kid. Images of my family flashed through my mind. My mom and dad would be heartbroken. My nephews would grow up without their aunt. I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t let Ethan risk our lives just to get revenge. Steeling my resolve, I turned to him and squared my shoulders.
“Ethan, are you listening to me? We need to wait for AJ’s family.”
My stomach lurched into my throat when the boat tilted forward. I turned just as the other passengers collectively gasped. Holy heck!
A giant swell of water rose up behind us from out of nowhere. I didn’t remember this happening on the Dreamy World ride. This wasn’t supposed to be a roller coaster. This was a gentle ride for little kids and terrified teenagers.
The crest of water pushed us forward at an alarming pace as the boat violently banged against the railing while whizzing by the Dreamy singers of all nationalities getting tucked into bed.
Kaylee giggled and held up her hands as water droplets from the cresting wave splashed our heads. The other passengers laughed nervously while casting anxious glances at each other. They probably hadn’t expected to be catapulted by a roaring tidal wave on this ride, either.
Ethan’s face was now crimson. I did a double take, thinking maybe the flashing Dreamy World lights were casting a strange shadow over my boyfriend, but no, his face was truly crimson… and glowing!
Witch Blood (Whispers book six) is over on GoodReads now. Please add it to your TBR pile. Initial beta responses are in, and so far they love it. I sure hope you do, too. The book is scheduled to be released the end of February, but I predict it will be released a week or two early. I can’t wait to share it with you!
In the meantime, here’s another (unedited) scene…
“Ethan, I’m so sorry,” I said as soon as we pulled out of my driveway.
He shrugged a shoulder and laughed, doing his best to look casual, but I wasn’t fooled. The way he clutched the steering wheel reminded me of that time I held onto the safety bar at Dreamy World’s haunted castle ride. Again, in my defense, I thought those ghosts were real.
“Don’t be,” he said. “He’s doing what dads do.”
“You mean embarrassing the hell out of me?” I groaned.
He laughed again, but the nervous energy behind it skirted across my psyche, and I felt Ethan’s panic jumping off his skin in erratic currents.
I didn’t want to pry into his mind, even though, as a telepath, that’s what I did best. But seriously, what was up with Ethan?
I should have been the one on edge. Ethan’s heady cologne wrapped around my senses in a warm embrace, setting my hormones on high alert. And his full lips were begging to be kissed. I could practically hear them calling to me. I was sorely tempted to ask Ethan to pull over so we could make out.
Besides, I so wanted the distraction after my crazy week. Maybe a make out session was what he needed to take the edge off, too.
“So we’re really going to your parents’ party, right?” I asked.
Ethan shrugged again, clutching the wheel even tighter. “Only for a little while, and then we have to go someplace safe with my kid sister.”
His nervous energy hit me like a blast of hot air. I crossed my arms over my chest, narrowing my eyes. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”
Ethan sucked in a deep breath, and then his words fell out of his mouth in a jumbled mess on the exhale. “My parents assembled their coven. They’re going to banish Sleznick to hell.”
I blinked once, then twice, waiting for my boyfriend to break into a fit of laughter and tell me that it was all just a joke. But his features hardened like granite, and the temperature in the car dropped like twenty degrees.
Even though I was wearing a warm jacket, I shivered as the gooseflesh rose on my arms. “Excuse me?”
“They’re doing a ritual to banish the incubus, Sophie. They need us there.”
“Omigod!” I squealed, even though my teeth had started to chatter. “What are we supposed to do? I don’t know how to banish anyone.”
I swear the temperature dropped another ten degrees. Even though my limbs felt frozen, I leaned over and set Ethan’s heater to full blast.
We’d come to a stoplight, and Ethan was staring at it like he was transfixed. Finally, he turned toward me, and I watched a knot jump in his throat as he swallowed. “You don’t need to do anything. We just need your uhhh…” He turned away, his cheeks flushing as bright as the glaring red light in front of us.
“My uhhh?”
His words spilled so fast out of his mouth, I swear they were going to trip on his tongue along the way. “My dad says he needs the blood of a virgin witch to lure Sleznick to the ceremony. So he wanted to ask me if you were maybe able to do it.”
I’m pretty sure I stopped breathing at this point, and I gaped at my boyfriend like he’d grown a second head. He looked away from me and put the car in drive. I turned my head and stared out the window as cars whizzed by. At first, my brain was too numb to process what Ethan had just told me, but then his words started to filter into my brain, like coffee on a slow drip.
Virgin. Witch. Blood. Sacrifice.
Holy heck!
Ethan had pulled into the driveway of a two story house. Several cars were parked along the sidewalk, and all of the lights were on inside. Voices carried from behind the large bay window where I saw shadows moving frantically about.
O-mi-freaking-God! We were at his house!
“Are you serious?” I practically screeched.
The car suddenly warmed to the point that Ethan had to roll down the windows and let in the cool air. He turned to me with his palms out in a defensive gesture.
“They just need a drop of your blood from your finger for the sacrifice.” He cringed. “That is, if you’re eligible.”
I’m pretty sure my heart fell to the pit of my stomach. “If I’m eligible?”
His face contorted, making him look like he’d just swallowed a whole lemon. “I know you and Frankie were going out before.”
“We haven’t done anything, Ethan,” I said on a low growl. “I haven’t done any of that with anyone.”
“Whew. That’s a relief.”
Was the boy smoking some kind of magic crack? Instinctively, I reached out and punched him, which was totally out of character for me. I’m pretty sure I hadn’t punched anyone since that time Patty Ledbetter royally kicked my ass in the sixth grade, but I was so angry I was practically seeing stars. “I can’t believe you!”
Ethan jerked back and rubbed his shoulder. “Sorry, it’s just we were going to have to use my sister. She’s only four and she’d probably freak.”
“And what makes you think I won’t freak?”
Ethan pinched his fingers together. “It’s just a tiny drop of blood. I swear.”
Just take me home, I wanted to say, but I clamped my jaw shut, even though I was sorely tempted to jump out of Ethan’s car and make a dash for home. Somehow watching old crime dramas with my dad sounded far better than spilling my virgin blood for a demon. I poked a finger in his chest. The heat radiating off him was palpable. “Why can’t they use your blood?”
Ethan’s face colored before he looked away.
I clenched my fists by my sides and scooted back against the door. “I see.”
Ethan’s shoulders hunched. He looked ready to sink beneath his seat. “It was a long time ago, Sophie.”
“That’s okay.” I waved him away with a flick of the wrist. “I don’t need to know.” Truthfully, the thought of Ethan doing that stuff with another girl gnawed at my insides like a starving dog with a bone, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. He was older than me, plus he had a car, and he was cute. Really cute. I was sure he’d had more than one girl, and I was sure it wasn’t that long ago.
“Sophie, if we don’t banish him, we’ll never be safe.”
“What if something goes wrong? What if they don’t banish him?”
“My parents are powerful witches. I trust them.”
“Sure you do.” I rolled my eyes. “You’re not the one being sacrificed.”
“Okay,” he said on an exhale. “We’ll have my sister do it.”
“She’s freaking four years old!” I wagged a finger, sorely tempted to ball up my fist and punch him again.
“We need a virgin, Sophie,” Ethan pleaded, his bright blue eyes darkening and his lip turning down in a too cute pout.
“Fine. I’ll do it.” I folded my arms across my chest and flashed a pout of my own.
When Ethan leaned forward and brushed a feather soft kiss across my forehead, I felt my resistance weaken even more.
This had to be the worst first date in the history of history, and I was the craziest, stupidest girlfriend on the planet. I knew we needed to get rid of Sleznick. I shouldn’t have been a baby about a little drop of blood, but I didn’t need AJ’s gift of foresight to know that this ritual had the potential to go terribly wrong.
Tara West 