The b.u.t.terfly Effect.

Renea Porter.

This is dedicated to those still waiting on their true love and those that believe in it.

PROLOGUE.

RILEY.

As she was tucking me in for the night, my mom told me I was old enough to hear a story about the women in our family. She said I had to pay special attention to all the details in the story, because the story would only be told once by her.

Mom tucked me tightly beneath the sheets. "Riley, you are part of a special line of women called Monarchs. This is nothing to be scared of as I tell you this. But there are dire consequences if you don't make the right choice. Most that know this story believe it is a fairytale, but in your instance, it's true. There are very few of your kind walking this earth. You see, when you turn the age of eighteen it's your responsibility to find the right man for you, who will be your partner in life. You could find him right away, or you may never find him. In the best case, you find him before you turn twenty-two. The only way you will know if he is the one is by kissing him."

"Ewww, kissing is gross." I crossed my arms over my chest and scrunched up my nose.

"Riley, you have to listen. Remember the details. You don't have to kiss anyone anytime soon." Mom laughed before continuing the story. "The only way you'll be able to tell, is if you kiss him. You'll get dizzy, almost feeling like you are going to pa.s.s out. That is key, Riley. It's very important to pay attention to your body when you kiss a boy. There are two things you need to remember; the boy could be as many as ten years older than you, so it's important to keep an open mind. The second thing is, if you don't find him by the time you're twenty two then you will die. Some women in our family have met that fate. Those were the ones who didn't care who their equal was; they just lived life to the fullest without a care, and they were reckless and met that fate."

I hung on every word Mom was saying. I had to make sure to listen to her as she told the story. Even if I did not understand it, or its significance, I knew it was important.

"You're a smart girl, Riley. It's important that you don't meet the fate like some have. I know you'll do the right thing. No matter how much you like a guy, if you don't get that feeling I described then you could be sealing your fate. It's important you know at the first kiss, because if he isn't the one, you need to move on. When you turn eighteen you will get a tattoo anywhere you want it, of a 3D b.u.t.terfly. In addition to feeling everything you do during the kiss, the b.u.t.terfly will get more and more vivid as the relationship progresses. It will be so lifelike in the end that you will feel its wings flutter. It is a kind of insurance; in case you meet the one, but do not feel connection for any number of reasons. This, this magnificent b.u.t.terfly that will grace your body, is a sure thing."

"What happens if I feel it, but then he doesn't?"

"In most cases he will feel the attraction to you, like a magnet to metal. However, there is another catch. Once you find him, you have to stay together. You cannot break up ever. If you do, that is just as bad as not finding the right one. Or if you break up, you have to hope to get back together with him before your twenty second birthday. Mostly, he'll feel possessive of you, like he has to have you with him all the time, like he's your protector. Do you understand all of this?"

I nodded my head.

"One last thing, you have to remain a virgin until you meet the one. This is so important, Riley. I know all of this can be confusing and you might even think this is all weird. But you're old enough to understand what I'm telling you. Especially this next bit."

"There's more?" I asked stunned by all the information I needed to keep track of.

"Your great grandmother was a psychic witch, and she saw that you find your true love at the age of twenty-one. I know that it sounds strange to your young ears, but it's important that you know what she saw. You'll be best friends with another girl who is like you. But, she seemed reckless like she didn't care what happened to her. You need to try your best to steer her into the proper path, or she'll die. It won't be your fault either way, but you need to try. Okay?"

"I understand, Mommy. Are you a witch?"

"I am, and you will be one, too, when you turn eighteen. As long as you don't have hate in your heart, you'll be a good witch. One that helps others. You'll have special powers. You might even meet the most powerful witch, whom we call The Wizard."

"The Wizard?"

"Yes. I've never met him, but he's supposed to be very powerful. Maybe one day I'll meet him. There are two kinds of Wizards, the good and the bad. And you don't want to encounter the bad one."

"Maybe I'll meet the good one, one day, Mommy."

She nodded, leaned down, and kissed my forehead. "Goodnight, pumpkin."

"Goodnight, Mommy."

Mom left the room, and I was left with my thoughts. It was a lot for one to process, but one thing was for certain. There was a lot of responsibility in my future, and I wasn't sure I wanted to grow up and find out if I could handle everything.

Chapter One.

Eleven Years Later.

RILEY.

My best friend Bea and I are just settling into our two bedroom apartment as we get ready to start college tomorrow. We worked all day getting the apartment together. It's small, but perfect for us.

Bea comes bounding down the stairs, her bouncy blonde curls bouncing off her shoulders, finding me in the kitchen. "It's someone's birthday today," she says, happily.

My eyes dart to her. "I really don't want to make it into a big deal." I shrug.

"But, it's your twenty first birthday. What if tonight you meet the one?" she questions, her eyebrows arching up.

"I highly doubt it. I'm sure I'll have to kiss more than one guy to get to the one," I tell her. Kissing one person would make it far too easy. My great grandmother never mentioned me meeting the one on my birthday. She simply stated I'd be twenty-one when I met him.

"Fine, but we are definitely going out tonight. There's a bonfire that the students do every year before cla.s.ses start. It'll be low key s'mores, beer, and boys," she says as her eyes twinkle.

I'm all for those three things, but I'm not sure beer and s'mores go together. Whatever. I just throw caution to the wind. It is my birthday after all. "Okay, sounds like a plan."

She smiles bright. "Great, we should go get ready."

I head upstairs to my room to change. I take a quick shower and pull on a pair of jean capris and a white tank top. I slip my feet into flip flops and put my hair into a ponytail and brush my face with some light makeup. Hopefully, this bonfire is nearby so I can make a fast getaway if need be. Bea is famous for ditching me for a boy. I can't say I blame her, though. She's what I refer to as the Eclectic Witch. Her kind studies various traditions, and they use what best works for them. I am what you call a Monarch Witch, and my kind originates from the old Irish traditions. We are more nature based healers. I work mostly with plants, animals, stones, flowers, and trees. I'm a nature protector. I'm still unsure about all the capabilities of my magic, actually.

We arrive at the bonfire right as the sun is setting, and surprisingly, the college fraternity is the one hosting the bonfire on White Rock Hills beach. White Rock Hills is a small town in Washington State; in fact it's so small that if you blink you'll miss it. I'm from Iowa, so this isn't much of a change in scenery. There's a lot of forest and nature around here, as well though.

Looking around, I notice the beer is being smuggled by other students. Thankfully, the college is a short walk from where we live. Arriving at the beach, just off campus, Bea and I mingle with some other students and two guys come over to meet us. Once we find a spot to sit, they introduce themselves as Ace and Trent. Ace sits on my right, and Trent sits on Bea's left. Ace offers me a drink from his red cup and I decline.

A few hours later, Ace and I are deep in conversation about everyday things. It feels easy talking to him. His deep green eyes are so exotic, the kind of green you only see in exotic places. He's very fit, and his almost black hair looks perfect.

"I think I'm going to head back home for the night. It was nice talking to you, Ace." I stand to start walking, brushing the sand off me first.

Bea is busy being wrapped up in Trent to notice; I just shake my head at her and give her a slight wave. Then she finally looks my way.

"Let me walk you. It's dark out and you just don't know what's lurking out there," he says.

I think for a moment and hesitantly agree. "Okay, sure."

We walk side by side, and I can feel the heat emanating off him as it caresses my skin like a soft glow to a flame. It's almost calming in some way.

"So you play football then?" I ask, trying to recall our conversation from a few moments ago.

"I do. I'm the quarterback, and no one gets past me. You should come watch sometime," he suggests.

"Why, so you can show off your mad skills?" I ask playfully.

He smirks. "Definitely."

We make it to my apartment safe and sound. "Well, no lurkers jumped out from the woodwork. Thanks for walking me home. It was nice talking to you."

"Anytime. I'm around if you ever want to hang out or talk." He waves.

"See ya around," I say, heading inside.

NATHAN.

Rushing around the house to grab my bag, I curse myself for running late on the first day of school. I bend down to put food in the cat's bowl and then I'm out the door. With my bag strapped over my shoulder I arrive on campus. It's alive with students, some walking alone, some catching up with their friends. I saunter to the cla.s.sroom where I'll be teaching Sociology; thankfully, no one else is here before me. I hate being late, so I have only a few moments to gather my thoughts.

Taking the white chalk, I write my name Professor Murphy on the board. Flipping my briefcase open, I pull out the papers and my lesson plan I have planned as the students flood in. They look at the layout I have on my desk, so they can find their a.s.signed seat.

Once everyone arrives, I take my gla.s.ses off and scan the students before I start. "Welcome to Sociology 100, everyone. My name is Professor Murphy. I know a lot of cla.s.ses are filled with introducing yourselves and going over a syllabus, but I think I'll just jump right into it as we have a lot to cover. This cla.s.s is not easy, so pay attention, do the work, and you should be fine."

The young brunette sitting in the center of the front row immediately grabs my attention, as she slowly crosses her legs while holding my gaze as she does so. Her brown doe eyes make her look innocent and possibly pure. I try not to make any more contact with her, but she is intentionally making it difficult for me to look the way. She props her head in her hand, as if she is hanging on my every word. Then, shockingly, the girl pulls her phone out of her pocket and looks through it.

I look at the seating chart to find her name. "Am I boring you Miss Warren? Put the phone away, unless it's something you want to share with the cla.s.s," I state. She shakes her head and puts the phone away. "Maybe you should just stay after cla.s.s," I tell her with a stern voice.

I have no idea what I'd do with her, but she needs to be taught a lesson. After cla.s.s, the students filter out and Riley remains in her seat with a smirk on her face. I sit on my desk, letting my legs dangle over.

"Well, Miss Warren, what are we to do about your phone situation? I won't tolerate such a disturbance in my cla.s.s. I'm sure the fellow students have warned you about me." I'm known for being a hard a.s.s most of the time. I put my hand out toward her. "Give me your phone, Riley. You can come back at the end of the day to retrieve it." I have a feeling that was my lame excuse to see her again, but I wouldn't take it back.

She stands, and there's not much s.p.a.ce between us. She plops the phone in the palm of my hand and I immediately feel the electrical current from her fingers as they graze my skin.

"I'm sorry, Professor Murphy. It won't happen again," she says under her long lashes. She knows full well what she is doing. She smiles sweetly, and walks out of the room, before I even dismiss her.

I huff. If this is how the year is going to go, I'm in a world of trouble. I have never crossed the professor/student relationship, but f.u.c.k if she isn't in the danger zone already. Maybe my lack of a s.e.x life is catching up to me. Being alone most of my life is lonely sometimes. I moved here four years ago to try out a new environment and maybe less stressful living. But it seems life hasn't changed much from before work, home, dinner, and sleep has become the normal schedule. Nothing spontaneous ever happens. Except Riley Warren.

I won't pretend I've never had l.u.s.tful thoughts for my female students, because I have, on more than one occasion. But I always kept things professional. And now I have Riley Warren tantalizing me with her big brown innocent eyes. I'm not familiar with any professor carrying on a relationship with a student, at least not here. I surely don't want to be the talk of the town. White Rock Hills is a really small town, and word spreads fast.

Fraternizing with the students is frowned upon, but the school doesn't really enforce it, especially with the students being consenting young adults. But it's far more complicated when you cross that line the line where you can't take anything back, the line where it's strictly forbidden while the fruit is being dangled right in front of your face. You just want that one bite.

After cla.s.ses, I organize the desk in my office that is off to the side of the cla.s.sroom. I take off my gla.s.ses and pinch the bridge of my nose, thinking I can't wait to get home to have a drink. Riley continues to haunt my brain, the image of her crossing and uncrossing her legs sending instant arousal to my groin. I bet if I looked good enough I could've seen her panties. Now all I can think of is bending her a.s.s over and f.u.c.king her senseless. Maybe that would satisfy my craving for her. Maybe that is what she needs, to teach her a lesson. A knock on the door brings me out of my thoughts.

"Oh, come in Miss Warren," I say, straightening up.

"I just came to retrieve my phone." Her hair sways over her shoulder, and her skirt is just short enough to tease. It is a magnificent sight that begs for my attention, it seduces me.

"Of course," I respond, pulling her phone out of my desk drawer and handing it to her.

The electrical currents buzz between us again when she picks it out of my hand. I watch as she walks away. Just as she reaches the threshold, she turns and smiles and then leaves. Realizing that I am not getting anywhere with my desk situation, I throw my papers in my briefcase and head home, that's within walking distance of campus. No one pays attention to me as I walk toward my house.

Trying to shake her from my brain, I set my briefcase down on the table, heading straight for the shower. A cold one ought to settle this tiger down. But before doing that, I stop by my bar that separates the kitchen and the living room, and pour myself a scotch. Carrying my drink to the shower, something tells me not even a cold shower will help.

This is a typical Friday night; h.e.l.l, it's like most nights of the week. Except sometimes Desmond Lee, my best friend, might meet me for a drink at a bar. He's also a professor at the college. Once I'm out of the shower, I pull on my gray drawstring pants and a white T-shirt, then settle in a chair with my refilled drink and look over the papers from the week. But no matter what I read, or how much I drink, the image of Riley is still there like an erotic image.

RILEY.

The week flies by too fast. It's Friday already. d.a.m.n it! A few days in Professor Murphy's cla.s.s and I feel like I might come undone already. He is intense and all I can think about are l.u.s.tful things I want him to do to me. I don't know what came over me, uncrossing my legs the way I did, holding his brown eyes with mine while I did so. I'm still a virgin. I just don't know what came over me. Every time I entered his cla.s.s, something just took over my body, because I never act like that.

"Riley, did you hear what I said?" Bea asks.

"I'm sorry, what were you saying?" I shake my head. Why am I l.u.s.ting after my professor? This is so wrong on so many levels. I shake the thoughts from my head. I'm sure all the girls in the cla.s.s l.u.s.t after him. He's just too gorgeous. Though he's older than me, he can't be older than early thirties at the most. His brown hair is tousled and unruly, but in a way that beckons for my fingers to run through the strands. I love his eyes the most, though. The way they look at me. It's as if they are undressing me right there in front of the entire cla.s.s.

Bea is my best friend, has been since soph.o.m.ore year of high school, and we were lucky enough to get into the same college when we applied. Of course, we were at the top of our cla.s.s. She's the one my psychic great grandmother saw in her visions. Bea doesn't know that, though. We were just lucky enough to be drawn to each other. The words Mom told me when I was ten have never left my brain. I know I can help guide Bea. I recited everything Mom said for days, months, and years. Just so I don't forget any details.

"Where were you a minute ago?" she asks.

Just l.u.s.ting over Professor Murphy. "I'm sorry. I'm already thinking about my a.s.signments, and when I need to study," I lie.

Chapter Two.

RILEY.

Sitting in the kitchen of our apartment, eating dinner, we are discussing plans for the weekend.

"As I was saying, there is a frat party tonight if you want to come. We are away from home, where we can do what we want. No parental supervision. Tell me you're in," she states.

"You know, I'm in! Bea, you should be more careful now that we are twenty-one. You should take who you are more serious." She brushes me off.

"You are really s.p.a.cing out there, Riley. But whatever. I'm going to go get ready for tonight," she says, leaving me to my thoughts and ignoring my plea to be careful.

We just moved in right off campus, and I like the privacy of having our own s.p.a.ce. Even though my room is extremely small, it's my own s.p.a.ce away from home, and I like the red painted walls. The room is only big enough for a bed, a big dresser, and two bedside tables.

Digging through my closet I pick out a pair of skinny jeans and a tank top, and then complete the outfit with a pair of heels. I leave my brown hair hanging loosely on my shoulders and just add a tad of makeup. Grabbing my phone and my I.D case, I put them in my pocket and meet Bea back downstairs.

Bea is no stranger with men; she lost her virginity during soph.o.m.ore year. She doesn't mind sleeping around the way she does. I don't judge her, and she doesn't say much about me and my virginity. I seriously don't even know how we are friends sometimes. We are total opposites; even our taste in men is different, but maybe that's a good thing. Apparently, her line of heritage is allowed to have s.e.x before finding the one. However, it is strongly encouraged she not do it.