Original Witch (Dreamshifters Book 1) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Turn the page for an excerpt of DreamShifters Book Two

  Original Witch

  Dreamshifters Book One

  Cameron Drake

  Kara Sevda

  Contents

  Original Witch

  A Note About Original Witch

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Sneak Peek Of Vampire Princess

  Vampire Princess

  Turn the page for an excerpt of DreamShifters Book Two

  Moon Bound

  Second Sight

  Excerpt of Second Sight

  Acknowledgments

  About the authors

  Also by Cameron Drake

  Also By Kara Sevda

  Copyright © 2017 by Cameron Drake and Kara Sevda

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  For our families

  Sign up for Cameron Drake’s mailing list here.

  Original Witch

  I just met the boy of my dreams— literally. But there’s a catch. He’s turning into a werewolf. And I think I might be a witch.

  In the small town where I grew up, I was a little odd, but who wasn’t? I never told anyone about my dreams, where I went in them, or who I met; no one told me about their weird problems either.

  But when I left for college, the dreams followed me… and now they’re real.

  The startlingly handsome boy I’ve been dreaming about for years? He’s in my freshman lit class. I try to avoid him but he doesn’t take the hint.

  And then things start getting really weird.

  The boy from my dreams? The one I see all over campus? Turns out he’s dreamed about me, too.

  I just want to be a normal college student, with a normal life and a normal boyfriend. But I’m not. Lights blow out when I’m angry. I know certain things before they happen. Butterflies follow me when I’m in a good mood.

  If I’m going to save myself and the boy of my literal dreams, I need to figure out what is happening to us and why.

  And I need to do it fast.

  A Note About Original Witch

  This book was originally released under another title. It has been completely reimagined and rewritten, though some elements of the story remain the same.

  Prologue

  The little girl giggled, pushing backwards on her tiptoes. She kicked her legs out as she sped forward on the swing. She was waiting for the real fun to start.

  Her mama was supposed to come out and push her before dinner. She couldn’t get very high without someone strong behind her. They had made a habit of coming out here each night to watch the apple blossoms fall.

  With each swing, the tree gave up some of its fading petals. She leaned backwards, letting the pale pink blossoms shower over her face.

  She could smell them, sweet and rare and slightly rotten. Like an apple that had been left out in the sun. A bird peered down at her from the gnarled branches, chirping loudly.

  Then the butterflies came.

  “Mama!”

  Tiny purple butterflies swirled around her as her mother came out to the yard to watch. Her mother’s beautiful face was tired, almost faded. But she still smiled kindly for her daughter.

  Her mother had been having bad dreams, Krista knew.

  They shared a room in the tiny, sun-washed house. The yellow paint was faded to almost white, the shutters hanging on by a thread. But it was home. Three generations of the women in their family had laid their heads there, and the little girl loved the old house.

  The girl tried to hide her yawn from her mother. She had played in the sun all afternoon, the birds and butterflies performing acrobatics just for her. Her Grandmother sat outside with her, watching the child so her daughter could sleep.

  Something was wrong, but they did their best to get along.

  It was later when the little girl curled up in the tiny twin bed with her mother, her belly full and a sense of right in the world. That night her mother didn’t cry out in fear. That night her mother barely stirred an inch. Not until she crept out in the pale dawn night.

  In the morning, she was gone.

  Chapter 1

  Dean

  “Come on champ, one last kegger.”

  I stared out at the water. My friends were digging a pit for a bonfire, dragging out beach chairs and blankets and less wholesome supplies for the party.

  A box full of half empty bottles of alcohol, and a garbage can full of ice for the first of many kegs.

  “You can’t leave man. It’s our last chance to be together.”

  “Yeah. Okay.”

  I was tired. I was having trouble sleeping. The sad part was, I was desperate to fall asleep.

  I just wanted to see her.

  The girl with the dark hair and the sad, but hauntingly beautiful eyes.

  I spent most nights staring at the ceiling, waiting for her. But if I didn’t sleep, I didn’t see her. I debated about sneaking one of my mom’s sleeping pills.

  If I did that — if I went under long enough — maybe she would come.

  It had been weeks since she visited me.

  “Here, have some of the good stuff before all the kiddies show up.”

  I accepted the cold bottle of beer from my buddy Jason and drank deep. I’d have a couple, and hope it wound me down. Just a few and then I’d go home.

  I didn’t care if this was the last time I would be with all my teammates and high school friends before I left for college.

  I didn’t care that things would never be the same again.

  I only wanted one thing.
<
br />   I wanted her.

  Chapter 2

  Krista

  That night I knew I would go to him.

  I slipped into the covers, knowing that I would be sleeping somewhere new soon. I looked at the old tree out the window, wishing I could bring the sight and smell of it with me.

  The branches waved slightly in the wind.

  Almost like they were saying goodbye.

  I was excited for tomorrow, but I dreaded sleep. Dreaded it, as much as I longed to see him.

  The dreams were getting worse. Each night it began the same way. I would rise from my bed and stand, still wearing my worn-in old nightgown. It was soft and threadbare from being washed more times than I could count. There was a little bit of lace around the neckline that was starting to tear.

  Like me, it was perfectly ordinary and familiar for the first few moments of the dream. My bedroom looked the same, my house, my street outside the window. My long, dark hair waved behind me, moving as if it had a mind of its own.

  But in my dreams, everything else was different.

  I would take a step, and then another, my feet never quite touching the ground. I climbed out of the window, barely feeling the curtains as they brushed my shoulders. I would stand on the pitched roof, feeling the cool night air on my face.

  And then I’d step off into nothingness.

  And fly.

  I did not fly like a bird. It was more like floating on air, like gliding. But that wasn’t it exactly either.

  It was as if I had springs in my legs and a loose tether to this world. Gravity had little sway over me. In the night, I did not bow to its rules. Each step would take me ten to twelve feet. Sometimes I would rise twenty feet or higher, fingers scraping against the streetlights.

  In the dreams, I was not afraid of the strange magic of it all. It made sense to me. It did not make me feel like a freak.

  It the dreams, I belonged.

  And sometimes, I would blink and be in another place.

  Of course, you couldn't really blink in dreams.

  I knew that. I was a rational human being. Even in the dreams I knew that.

  The world followed certain rules and you had to obey them. Red meant stop. Green meant go. Girls didn't fly or leap or travel hundreds of miles to visit a beautiful boy that made their heart flutter and their breath catch.

  You didn't actually breathe in dreams. Your pulse didn't really race. You didn't fall in love.

  Only that wasn't entirely true. I knew because I had felt all those things. And more.

  On certain nights, I would find myself going to the same familiar house in the same sleepy town. I didn't know where it was, or what the town was called.

  I knew it was near the sea, with a sandy coast and the tang of salt in the air. I’d never been there in my waking life, but I often found myself staring up at his window in my dreams.

  The boy I visited. I’d never met him before in real life. He wasn't an actor or someone I’d seen on TV.

  I knew because I’d tried to find him.

  I had been searching for him for years. It wasn't easy with so little to go on. But every now and then, I’d go online and down the rabbit hole all the same.

  Just to figure out if I was crazy.

  Some nights I would blink and find myself on his roof, like some sort of cat burglar. Or more accurately, a stalker.

  Yeah, I was starting to feel a little bit creepy about my nocturnal visits.

  He was rich. The boy lived in a big house with large white columns, set in the middle of vast manicured lawns. I would look around for a minute or two. Then I’d be in his bedroom, staring down at him, with no idea of how I’d gotten there.

  He was a restless sleeper, often tangled up in the sheets, his hair falling over his eyes.

  Some nights I would reach out, my hand pressing his chest. His eyes would open and like me, he would rise from the bed.

  I didn't know his name or how old he was. I didn't know if he was real. All I knew was that he was beautiful.

  That the stormy dark blue of his eyes reminded me of the sea.

  The sea… I’d never seen in it person. But I knew it well from the dreams. The cool sand beneath my bare feet. The salty smell. The vastness of the ocean.

  The feeling that it could swallow me up and make me disappear.

  The boy loved the ocean too.

  We'd often go there together and watch the night sky. I would take his hand and we would be there, just like that, listening to the waves crash on a deserted beach.

  He was always startled by the sudden leaps to a new location. I was used to it and could control it sometimes, though it was never an entirely conscious decision. I knew on some level that I was dreaming so I never panicked when I found myself someplace new.

  I was different in the dreams.

  I would never have talked to a handsome boy in real life, let alone visited him in his house uninvited. But I was sure of myself in the dreams. Confident in a way I never was when I was awake.

  Or at least I was until he kissed me.

  Last night had changed everything. I could still feel his hands where they had pressed my cheeks, guiding me towards him. His lips had felt so real, so hot that they almost scalded me.

  The dream had stuck with me even longer than usual, the vivid memory of the kiss keeping me distracted and tense while I packed and cleaned.

  Most people forgot their dreams. But I never did.

  Especially not this one.

  How many girls could say that their first kiss happened in a dream?

  Chapter 3

  Dean

  Here we go.

  I stood in the doorway to my new room. It was spacious, with a full-sized bed, dark wood desk, and dresser. A window overlooked the woods that bordered the school.

  As a member of the University football team, I was rooming on a separate part of the campus. The townhouses were reserved just for athletes. We were given special housing, just for being on the team.

  Really nice housing.

  Of course, I was used to really nice housing. Our family home was a two hundred-year-old mansion, even if my parents refused to call it that. The three of us rattled around the estate, hardly ever bumping into each other except for meal times.

  This would be different.

  For the first time in my life, I’d be living in close proximity with other people my own age. It would be loud. And messy. But hopefully less boring and lonely.

  Yeah, the giant old house kind of felt like a museum. It was not really that exciting for a boy growing up. The only people under thirty in my parent's house were servants.

  But here, I had roommates.

  Right next door, knock on the wall if you need something, probably going to be annoying as hell roommates.

  Still, I couldn't lie. I was more than a little excited to be here. For once in my life, I wouldn't be just the heir to the richest family in the state. No one knew who I was, or who my family was.

  Here I was just another student. An athlete, but still. I was practically normal.

  Each player was in a suite with three other teammates. We had private rooms with a central living room and a large kitchen on one side of the room. We even had our own en suite bathrooms, along with a half bath in the main living area.

  I was aware that the rest of the student population did not live like this. Especially not the Freshman. After Sophomore year, you could move off campus, but only the richest students could afford anything like the townhouses the athletes got.

  Well, not all the athletes.

  The best housing was reserved for the football team.

  It was a football school and the players were treated like kings. And I was their prize catch for the year. I’d been told I was going to get field time in almost every game, to prep me to take over as lead quarterback next year as a Sophomore.

  My future was neatly mapped out for me. I was at a top tier school. I had a bright career in either sports or business ahead
of me. Maybe both.

  Everything was being handed to me on a silver platter.

  I should be ecstatic.

  But as usual, I felt like something was missing. And not something I could tell anyone else about. Nobody would understand. Even worse, they would think I was crazy.

  I’d never told anyone about it. Any of it. I’d never even considered mentioning the gaping hole I felt inside me. The hole that only one, impossible thing could fill.

  Her.

  The girl from my dreams.

  The beautiful girl with the big gray eyes that seemed to stare right through me. The touch of her hand when she woke me. She came at least once a month for the past several years. And her lips… I’d been dreaming about kissing her for years but only last week had I dared to actually do it.

  And the kiss had been epic.

  I had girlfriends in real life. I wasn’t vain but I knew what people saw when they looked at me. A rich, tall, built guy with good looks who was by far the best athlete my hometown had seen in a decade. Girls fell into my lap with an almost annoying frequency. But I’d never been too invested in anything romantic.

  Not while I was awake anyway.

  On some level, I knew it wasn't fair to compare the girls from my high school to her delicate, ethereal beauty. But I couldn't help but notice these real, flesh and blood girls seemed silly and superficial next to her.

  The sad-eyed beauty from my sleeping life was somehow more real than any of those girls could ever be. And to me, it really was a whole other life.

  A life I wished I could escape to more often than not.

  I knew that other people didn't dream like I did. Nowhere near as extensively and nowhere near as vividly. My dreams were almost brighter than real life somehow.

  More substantial.

  I didn’t get to go there every night though. Only when she was there. She was the key to the kingdom.