Until My Last Breath

Some souls never stay buried.

In 1692, they burned Mercy alive.

She let them.

With her last breath she placed a curse on the man who named her. The man who wanted her, feared what that wanting meant, and chose fire over his own conscience. The curse was simple. Elegant. Eternal.

He would find her in every life. He would love her in every one. And she would be there when he did.

Three hundred years later, Mercy owns half of Salem. She rents her properties to tourists who think the witch trials are history. She knows better. She has always known better.

When he books one of her rentals for an October getaway, him and his girlfriend in tow, a ring burning a hole in his pocket, Mercy doesn't feel triumph. She stopped feeling triumph somewhere around the fifth lifetime.

She feels nothing at all.

That's what three centuries of this does to a person.

He doesn't know her. He never does, not at first. But the memories always come. Bleeding in at the edges, arriving in pieces, building toward the moment everything floods back and he understands exactly what she is and what is coming.

The only question is whether she moves first.

She always moves first.

Until My Last Breath is a dark psychological romance spanning lifetimes. A story about rage, corruption, collateral damage, and what happens to a woman when the revenge that was supposed to set her free becomes the only thing keeping her alive.

**Warning:** This story contains psychological manipulation, infidelity, violence, and morally complex characters with no guarantee of redemption. Read at your own risk.