Page 1 of Knotted
Chapter
One
There was something fundamentally wrong with me.
It was the only reason I could think of for finding myself at home on a Friday night cuddling a two-foot-tall crochet werewolf and wondering why it hadn’t been possessed by a demon.
Not that I actually wanted it to be possessed by a demon. It was just I was ten months into a deal with the devil and I was supposed to be assigned a demon by now.
It definitely had nothing to do with my three closest friends happily paired up and off the dating scene. Or my most recent attempt at dating, finding the love ofhislife at my cousin’s wedding last month.
I was happy for them. I really, really was. It was great for all of them and frankly, every one of them deserved happiness. But a large part of me was sad for myself.
Ten months ago, I had talked my friends into doing a love spell. It had mostly been a joke as I entered my twenty-ninth year of life. I felt cosmic intervention was the only way I was going to find a goodrelationship.
It was ridiculous and silly. None of us had taken it seriously. Fern, Jasmine, and Clover had humored me. A true love spell? It was a joke. A lark.
Except, it wasn’t.
It wasn’t a normal spell either. It was signing a blood deal with the devil. He would help us find true love, but if we couldn’t find our soul mates within a year, he got our souls.
One by one, my friends had been given a demon guardian. The demon was there to keep them safe and whole while they searched for their soul mates. And one by one, my friends fell in love with the demons they had been given.
I was certain it was part of the devil’s game. Instead of unwilling souls, he was given three women willing to follow their demon lovers into Hell. Honestly, you had to hand it to the guy. Especially because my friends had never been happier.
I was totally prepared to fall in love with whatever demon arrived at my door. Or, inside my crochet werewolf, rather. Except, it had been ten months since we’d done the spell, and the first demon arrived. And I still hadn’t seen so much of a hint of demon.
My friends insisted it would be okay, but I knew better. There were fewer than two months until my birthday and the anniversary of our deal. In two months I would go to Hell. And there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to stop it.
Oh, I’d tried. I’d reached out to every witch, pagan, druid, mythology scholar, and occultist I could find, but none of them had heard of such a thing. Most of them had assumed I was some kind of crazy. Apparently, they didn’t appreciate their spiritual beliefs being mocked by my wild tales of real demons.
Funny that.
“I wonder if I’ll be able to take you to Hell with me.” I told the stuffed werewolf. The thing was silly. A grey, white, and black wolf with blue “jeans” it’s ragged hems and his button down red shirt was raggedy and ripped. It was hysterical, and I was blown away by Clover’s skill with a hook.
“Good night, buddy.” I turned off the light and snuggled under my duvet with my arm around the wolf.
Just a few weeks to go before my chit came due. It was fine. There was still time.
“It would help if you’d get possessed already. If nothing else, I really, really need to get laid.”
Chapter
Two
The first thing I noticed was the heat. It was mid-June and summer had sprung, so waking up warm wasn’t abnormal. But this wasn’t June warm. This was late-July heat wave at high noon-hot. I kicked the blanket, but it didn’t move. Something wrapped around my waist, keeping it, and me, in place.
My eyes flew open as I turned toward the furnace. Where my stuffed werewolf had lain last night was a giant black beast.
I slapped a hand to my mouth to keep the scream in. The beast appeared to be sleeping. The last thing I wanted to do was startle it awake. The claws that rested on my hip were long and sharp. My stomach clenched, imagining the damage they could do to me.
Taking a deep breath, I took my hand off my mouth and began scooting slowly toward the edge of my queen-sized bed. The beast’s breathing stayed steady as I slowly slid out from under its large, furry limb.
I had one foot on the floor and had nearly freedmyself when the beast let out a snuffling-snort sound and his claws tensed over my stomach.
“Where are you going, love?” The voice was a grumbling-growl. A deep vibration in the chest of the beast. The claws I’d nearly escaped flexed, and I froze, praying this wasn’t it. This wasn’t the way I died.
Instead of ripping my insides out, the large paw wrapped around my center and yanked me back onto the bed and up against the furry furnace. It pulled me until I was flush against it, my back to its front. Those long claws rested on my stomach. It’s snout snuffled into my hair and brushed against my neck. I shuddered at the feeling.
