Page 1 of Twisted Desires

Chapter One

“Wow,” I breathe as I paddle through the ancient sea caves of Devil’s Island. The timeless red and gold rock formations are breathtakingly beautiful. Eroded by the intense surf of Lake Superior over millions of years, the caves are popular with kayakers and tourists from all over the world. I’m Wisconsin born and bred, yet I’ve never seen this stunning and dramatic spot for myself—until now. After falling out with my college friends, it seems the perfect place to explore, get drunk, and nurse my sorrows on Halloween.

Local legends say an evil spirit dwells here. The natives claim to have heard it howling and roaring on stormy nights. The thought has gooseflesh prickling up my arms as darkness descends and the winds pick up. The waters of Lake Superior start to get choppy. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, I muse as my head buzzes with warmth. But a part of me loves fear. I revel in it. I always have.

The thrill of danger pumps me full of adrenaline, and I find myself squinting into the gloom, surreptitiously glancing about as if something might just rise from depths to fulfill my most twisted All Hallows’ Eve fantasies.

Resting my double-ended paddle over my lap, I adjust my bright orange life vest and reach for my bottle of bourbon. I shudder after taking a deep slug of the amber alcohol as it burns down my throat. Doesn’t taste great, but it gets the job done. After screwing the lid back on, I slide it back down alongside my legs and dip my paddle back into the water. Do I have a death wish? I wonder. What kind of sane person drunkenly kayaks through caves at night—alone?

“Well,” I say aloud to no one in particular, emboldened by the relaxing hum in my veins. “If my fuckwit friends weren’t such jerks, I wouldn’t be here, now, would I?” No. I don’t have a death wish. I just need an escape. Time to rage. Time to be reckless. Time to get the frustration out of my system. “I didn’t fucking kiss Jett! He’s just a friend.” I inform the darkness. But it doesn’t matter. Jessica believes what she heard from some tart on campus, instead … even after ten stinking years of friendship. She didn’t even give me the benefit of the doubt! She didn’t even confront me or speak to me. She just turned everyone against me on a whim like a butt-hurt little bitch. Ugh!

We were supposed to go out tonight. We were going to trick-or-treat together, then kayak out to Devil’s Island to get smashed and camp the night away. There was going to be a bonfire and everything. I’ve been looking forward to it for months. I love Halloween. It’s my favorite holiday, so spending it with friends and getting wasted was going to be next level. I needed this. It was going to be epic.

Scowling, I slap the paddle down across my lap, again. My so-called friends obviously changed their plans at the very last minute—without notifying me—which means they really are done with me. I’ve been cut out of my own damn social circle like a bruise on an apple. And here I am bobbing about in the dark like an idiot out of pure spite.

There’s no one in sight, not at this hour, in these conditions. Though I know a volunteer ranger mans the Devil’s Island lighthouse. But whoever they are, they can’t possibly see me—not down here. And they wouldn’t expect anyone to be out on the water at Halloween, anyway. It’s just me, the lake, and my misery. I sigh.

A strange, mournful sound echoes around me—sudden and unexpected. I stiffen, frozen in place, eyes wide. What the actual fuck? That doesn’t sound like the surf and wind howling through sea caves… It sounds too poignant. The lamentation itself is rife with emotion. I can tangibly feel it. There is no way that it’s just the elements of nature bouncing and echoing off each other. It’s almost like someone or something is calling out. It sounds lonely, I realize. And somewhere deep down inside of me, the call resonates. The sound could have come from my own damn soul.

I take a steadying breath and try to remain calm, though my rational and educated mind races for an explanation. It’s just nature, Bethany, I tell myself. Just like the scientists say. There are no such things as evil spirits or creatures from the depths. You’ve let the ancient stories get to your head like a kid afraid of the monsters under the bed. Despite my feeble efforts to rationalize the strange sound, my gut isn’t fooled, not by a long shot. I know what I heard. It wasn’t the bloody wind, and it certainly wasn’t fucking human.

Swallowing my fear like a bitter pill, I make the only decision that makes any sense. I’m going to get out of here. This was a stupid idea. But I’ve lost my way, and I can’t remember which direction I entered the cave system from. As quietly as I’m able I scrounge around my legs for a flashlight. Raising it at eye level, up by my shoulder, I press the button, illuminating the sea caves around me. Gold and red sediment glitters in the light’s beam. It’s breathtaking. Then something splashes nearby, painfully distinct from the sloshing of the surf against the smooth rock walls.

Lowering the beam to the water’s surface, I nearly drop the flashlight altogether when I see something move, made visible by the light penetrating the rippling depths. Any precious shred of calm I had remaining evaporates, and I begin to hyperventilate, my heart racing for a finish line that doesn’t exist. My arm trembles and I reach for my throat with my free hand. Panic begins to overwhelm me and suddenly I can’t breathe. I try to draw breath, but it’s like my throat has closed, restricting my airway almost entirely. My chest tightens and burns like fire. The darkness begins to close in all around me.

I feel the flashlight slip from my fingers, lost to the turbulent waters of Lake Superior forever. I can’t breathe! I cry out in my mind. Oh, God. I’m going to die. The devastating realization slams into my chest with the weight of a sledgehammer, and I swoon, gasping in vain as my kayak topples over and oblivion claims me.

A heartbeat later and the shocking cold of Lake Superior embraces me from all sides, jolting me back to consciousness. Inverted, I can’t get free. My legs are firmly stuck. Fuck! My curvy girl ass and chunky thighs are going to be the death of me. For fuck’s sake, you’ve got to be kidding me! I wiggle and squirm, leveraging my weight against the sides of the kayak, all the while upside down. I pull and push, but it’s no use.

This is it. Fear floods me all over again with a fresh wave of equilibrium destroying devastation. I’m going to drown! Someone’s going to find my cold, fat, bloated, and lifeless corpse stuck in my kayak. My parents will be alerted, and I’ll be just another drunken Halloween fatality on the news. My ex-friends will probably laugh when they hear it.

Just as I’m ready to give up and kiss my bombastic ass goodbye, I feel movement in the water around me. Something slick snakes its way around my waist, and in the chaotic darkness of the world below the surface, I make out two glowing yellow eyes. They stare back at me, unblinking and curious. Pure terror takes a dump on my fucking soul, and I open my mouth to scream. The lake rushes in, eager to quench the fire in my burning lungs.

Chapter Two

Like the unexpected suddenness of a balloon bursting, reality returns in an explosion of confronting awareness. My eyes fly wide as powerful blows strike me with pinpoint accuracy between the shoulder blades. My body convulses in response, and my lungs instinctively purge themselves of the lake. Water burbles and splutters from me in heaving gushes as I gasp for breath. There’s rock beneath me and I’m out of the water. How? Mind racing, I try to raise myself up, to see where I am. The strength holding me up suddenly vanishes, retreating in a slither of tentacles and back into the murky depths.

I scoot backward until my spine is pressed flat against the wall of the small, smooth ledge. With my gaze trained firmly on the swirling waters, I shiver from head to toe, unable to control it. Several minutes pass as I sit on the precipice of indecision. Whatever it was … it saved me. It pulled me from my kayak, got me to this ledge safely, and then struck me on the back to expel the water so that I wouldn’t drown. If it wanted to eat me, it fucking would have, I reason.

Once my breathing steadies to a degree, I lick my chapped lips and decide on my next move. And it’s positively batshit insane. “Hello?” I call out, my voice trembling as my teeth chatter. I can’t believe I’m doing this… “If you can understand me, thank you for saving me.”

The water stirs several feet away and I squint, with only a shaft of moonlight pouring in through a crack above to see by. Long, wet black hair rises slowly from the water, followed by those glowing yellow eyes, and then the rest of a surprisingly handsome and chiseled human-looking face. Aside from the fact that the monster’s skin is a deep shade of mottled orange, he’d almost pass for a man, features-wise at least.

I hold my breath, and we stare at one another for a handful of anxious heartbeats. “Can you speak?” I venture, when the silence hanging between us becomes unbearable.

The monster blinks two sets of eyelids, eliciting a gasp from me, before answering. “I can.”

My mind reels as I run a hand through my tangled bleach-blonde hair. “What are you?” The monster rises higher, his entire torso—that of a man—breaks the surface. His muscles gleam as water cascades over his rippled form. Then tentacles appear. There’s fucking eight of them! Some snake along the surface provocatively while others walk him along the cave floor.

“I am what I am,” he says succinctly. “No more and no less.”

His deep baritone washes over me, and to my shame I feel warmth blossom within me. It’s the voice of a seasoned rock star, the type with that natural gravel that can make a girl lose her panties in a New York minute. I’ve officially lost my mind. Hot for a monster? Seriously?

“You look like a…” I pause, considering my words, but there really is no polite way of putting it. “Like a monster.”

The monster smiles then, revealing sinister fangs. “Yes. I’ve heard that word before. Your kind lacks my beautiful appendages, so I suppose they might appear rather shocking to the unappreciative eye.”

“Your tentacles?” I ask, dumbfounded. “Yeah, we humans don’t have those.”

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