A Warlock's Kiss: The Order of the Black Oak - Warlocks, #1

Chapter 1

Pawtuxet Beach, Rhode Island

Present time

The stretch of sand sprawled ahead of Kerala Clarke, the beach deserted on this cold November day. Empty, except for the five men striding toward her.

Tall, dark, powerful, they were apparently unaware of the icy wind which forced their black dusters to billow in the clear marine air.

Kera couldn’t make out their faces yet, but she knew them well.

Knew every single one of them.

Yet as they closed in, their aura hit her full force and she swallowed with dread. Even that far, they were still lethal.

Her brother Sinclair hadn’t mentioned he was bringing company to the meeting. For a moment, she thought of running away. But it would be pointless. They wouldn’t let her get far.

No, better to face them. Her people, the Order. See what they wanted.

The five warlocks neared and she remained motionless, waiting, her shoulders purposely set rigidly back.

Her gaze narrowed and angst seized her throat.

Diesel. Damn.

Why had he come?

After all this time, why would Diesel Stanford, now leader of the Warlocks of the Black Oak, want to see her? She’d made it clear she wanted nothing to do with his family. Or with him.

He looked different than the last time she’d seen him.

Six months ago.

And minutes after the tragedy.

When blind with tears, she had looked up from her mom’s bloody and lifeless body, hoping he would do something to bring her back. Anything.

As she’d gripped the inert black fur of the dead panther that had been her mother, she had prayed for his magic, waited for him to do something.

For a brief moment, she’d seen pain in Diesel’s eyes, a deep empathy for her loss. But it had been too late.

Kera, overcome with both grief and anger, had shifted and lunged. Straight at his throat.

When she’d returned to reality, all she’d seen in Diesel’s expression was disgust.

And fear.

Now staring at him, she bit down on her lip, tasted the sea breeze, then let out a slow breath. All had changed that day. The event, and its consequences, remained branded in her mind.

Barely half a year now since they’d shared everything.

They had been so carefree. He hadn’t yet inherited the leadership of the Order. Hadn’t cared one bit for responsibilities.

He’d spent his days surfing across the bay instead of sailing in the races with his father. Or had disappear for days to ride his motorcycle up and down the coast. And she’d been right there with him, always. Two perfectly connected souls.

In love.

Those days were long gone. Kera’s mind was now consumed with one thing.

Revenge.

And the only way she could exact her revenge was on her own terms.

Away from their rituals, from the magic that had gotten her mother killed.

Away from their rules that would blur her focus.

Her heels dug into the sand as she eyed her ex-boyfriend, her insides frozen with apprehension.

She inhaled deeply to settle her pounding heart as the five warlocks stopped at a respectable distance and watched her without a word, their expressions unreadable.

Forcing herself to ignore Diesel, she first glanced at her brother who, along with the other sorcerers, stood beside his leader.

Sinclair. She lifted an eyebrow at him. Why this meeting?

His discomfort was palpable but to her only. As always, he stood cool and collected. One of her kind, of their mother’s kind. With his dark exotic features, her brother looked elegant and deadly as usual, his lean muscular body covered with an expensive full-length black cashmere coat to fend away the cold.

Sin always liked his luxury.

If he was here with the warlocks, it had to be something serious. He knew how she swore she’d never go back.

Sin tilted his head toward Diesel. Someone here wants to talk to you, Sis.

Gnawing her bottom lip, she continued to avert her eyes from her ex-boyfriend. Her emotions in check, she studied the small band of deadly sorcerers facing her.

Thornwood, as menacing as ever in all black—jeans, shirt, faded coat.

Knightley and Duke, the Morgan brothers, still deadly handsome but with haunting green eyes, their dark curls flying in the blistery wind.

The three of them had the distinctive air of Ivy League bred men, but with that undercurrent of danger always present. That hint of menace brought by the powerful arcane knowledge passed on to them by their elders, the power of sorcery, the control of the life force itself.

A power that Kera, by a strike of genetics, had never been able to harness.

They’d all grown a long way since their carefree prep school days.

Her mother’s murder had changed all that.

Kera tensed with contempt as she inhaled the cold air. She had no place in their elite community of Cliffstone Avenue, Seaport. In a way, they had failed her.

She glanced at the ocean surf and pondered why Diesel would want to see her after she’d ignored him for so long.

After she nearly killed him.

Returning her gaze to Sinclair, she refused to acknowledge Diesel, while still fully aware of his authority.

He’s so scared to talk to me, she spat, he needs you all to come with him.

Her hands fidgeted in her coat pocket. Had Diesel been affected by her not returning his calls? He’d been gone for six months. Had he even tried to find her on his return?

Or did he remember her only as the beast lunging at him, teeth bare, ready to rip out his throat? Unable to control her rage?

Diesel still hadn’t uttered a word. Yet his silence showed he wasn’t troubled by her presence. In fact, his quiet bearing betrayed the weight he now held over them all. His steel blue gaze rested steadily on her, his wide shoulders squared with calm strength.

The feline DNA of her body bristled at feeling him so close. His strong masculinity was indisputably too potent for her to resist and she felt herself wanting to both recoil and lean into his broad chest.

"Come back to The Crest, bahan, Sinclair said. Dad doesn’t have many more years left."

She shot her brother a dead stare, frustration rushing through her. I don’t have a father.

Kera. Grief tainted her brother’s tone.

Her jaw clenched. This wasn’t new. They had this conversation each time they saw each other.

Every weekend when he tagged along on the hunt for their mother’s murderer.

He should have defended her. Her careful guards slipped away. A surge of raw emotions bubbled up inside her. Anger, sorrow, a mix of both. For all his magic, she said, a Warlock of the Black Oak couldn’t even protect his own wife.

She had shifted, Sinclair said, his tone defeated. There was nothing he could do. His spells couldn’t protect her. She wasn’t human when Burton attacked her.

How could Sinclair explain their mother’s death so casually?

As Kera pushed away the haunting memories of her mom’s last breath, she became painfully aware