3 Reasons To Not Kiss A Warlock: Beware, Bewitched, Bewarlocked (Mystic Keep Universe Book 2) Read online

  "I named him Jack.” I said. “But Cassie nicknamed him Plums, and it stuck."

  Donavan squeezed the top of his nose. “Witches! They always have stories. I’m afraid to ask,” he said.

  A mischievous grin lit in Cassie’s eyes. “You don’t have to ask, just take a look.”

  Donovan’s right brow rose as his eyes followed where she pointed—directly at the familiars private parts. “Oh. Those plums.” He laughed. “That’s why he walks funny.”

  As Donovan laughed his handsome features morphed from severe warrior to something more human, more engaging. I really didn't want to like this guy.

  I licked my lips. “Sheriff, I’m not sorry about what happened yesterday, but …”

  He rounded on me, and I thought my knees might meet the floor. I'd met many mages with personal magnetism, but his energy was more than charismatic; it was lethal. My witch senses went on high alert. Clearly adept at sorcery, this warrior was dangerous.

  He made a guttural sound at the back of his throat the way warlocks do, a warning grumble. "I get it. You realize how stupid you were to put your witch-nose where it didn't belong, so you've called me over to apologize," he said.

  “No. No way. I’m not going to say I’m sorry for something I have no reason to be sorry for,” I said.

  “Look, it’s okay. No harm was done. I accept your apology. Now can I get on with taking care of the town?”

  I took a deep breath and readied myself to stand my ground, but Cassie shot me dagger eyes. There were more important things than my ego to consider. Apologize? Who the hex did he think he was. I muttered the serenity prayer and considered counting to ten, but I knew neither would be enough to deal with him.

  “Excuse me,” he said. “Are you talking to me?”

  "The first time I met you," I said, ignoring the fact he heard me mumbling a prayer. "I was intrigued. Clearly, you are a powerful mage." That was seven months ago. His good looks attracted me, but I wisely avoided him.

  Donovan folded his arms and leaned back. So much for buttering him up.

  "The second time I met you was at Cassie's wedding, three months ago. I was charmed." Of course, he might have used magic on me. That's the thing with warlocks. You never quite knew if your feelings about them were your own or the result of one of their spells.

  He frowned. “Get to your point.”

  “I don’t trust you.”

  “Excuse me? You called me over here to tell me you don’t trust me?” He shook his head. “Why the hell should I care? Witches make no sense.”

  Cassie spoke up. “Tell him, Melina.”

  I gritted my teeth.

  “Merlina, you trust me. I trust him. Just tell him.” Cassie looked directly at Donovan. “I think you should sit down for this.”

  Grimacing, the warlock perched on the chair nearest her footstool. He pulled her right leg onto his lap, took her slipper off, and began massaging her foot.

  He glanced up at me. “Spit it out.”

  “I came here to save the town,” I said.

  He made another throat sound.

  “I’m serious. Trouble is brewing on the borders.”

  His eyes shot up and locked with mine. “How do you know this?” I felt his magic probing inside me for the truth.

  “Stop with your mind-melding crap,” I said. “I’m telling you the truth. I saw it in a vision.”

  “Well then,” he said in a voice that all but said he thought I was full of elephant poop. “It must be true.”

  I sat on a chair opposite him. “Look, I’m here to help.”

  “You realize we have a team of seasoned, supernatural warriors watching over Mystic Keep, shifters, witches, and wizards. We don’t need your help.”

  “I would be impressed if it wasn’t for one thing.”

  He looked over at me. “And what would that be?”

  “I was called here. The vision called me to be here, and that means that I must be a part of the solution.”

  Six

  The moon will guide you through the night with her brightness, but she will always dwell in the darkness, in order to be seen." – Shannon L. Alder.

  Donovan gently placed Cassie's foot back on the ottoman, moved to her other side, and took her second foot on his lap. Cassie sighed.

  He looked over at me. “You say, you’ve been called?”

  I nodded.

  “Fine. Tell me what you know.” His whisky-over-the-rocks, voice raked embers of desire burning in my nether regions. It wasn’t fair that he had such an effect on me. No matter how brisk his manner may have been, the damn mage had serious mojo. Keeping my words straight became difficult.

  Holding tightly onto the medicine bag hidden in my jeans pocket, I wondered where to start, or at least that’s what part of my mind did. The other part was too mesmerized by the warlock to conjure a thought. Why couldn’t I just hate him? At least then I could think straight. Did he feel the zing between us? Or was it just me? It felt kind of like being zapped with an elastic band. Good grief, I thought. I’m way too old for these girly feelings.

  Cassie read me like a grimoire and gave me a sympathetic smile. She turned to the warlock. "Donavan, are you familiar with the prophecies of the Blood Moon?"

  “From the bible?” he said as he dug his fingers into the bottom of her swollen foot..

  “Yes. There are …”

  He cut her off. "Three prophecies that refer to a blood moon, heralding the end of life as we know it. Is this what this is about?" he said.

  “There’s a Blood Moon in three days,” I said.

  He nodded. "You know, the moon turns a coppery-red color during every lunar eclipse. Right? When the earth shadows the moon, most of the sun's light is blocked, but not all of it. Red light passes through our atmosphere and is bent towards the moon, creating the color associated with the Blood Moon."

  “So, you don’t believe in the prophecies,” I said.

  "In my experience, most myths are based on fear and old witch tales. I prefer to rely on science," he said. "But …" He glanced towards the windows. "The significance of a powerful enchantress being called is something." His eyes locked with mine. "Something concerning."

  “Trust me, I didn’t ask for this,” I said.

  “Do you believe in prophecies?” he asked.

  "Hex no," I said. "For prophecies to be true, our lives would have to be predetermined, and we would have no free will. We would act out roles assigned to us." I shook my head. "I can't believe in such a closed system. Don't get me wrong, I respect the powers-that-be in the universe, and I understand that some things are meant to be. But not all." I swept my arm in the air. "I don't believe I'm controlled by a grand plan set in stone before I was born. I've lived long enough to know my actions have consequences. I have free will."

  Was that a smile threatening to take over his mouth? He looked away.

  “But,” I said. “That doesn’t mean someone isn’t using the prophecies for their own benefit.”

  Donovan tilted his head. “What are you thinking?”

  I scrunched my mouth. As a fellow mage, he should know better than to ask me that. When I get a vision of the future, it funnels through all my senses. My mind plays no part in it. I cleared my throat. “I’m not prepared to share the details of my vision in front of Cassie, given her condition. They were gruesome. What I will say is that when the Blood Moon rises, everyone in this town will be in great danger.”

  After a couple seconds, Donovan responded. "It wouldn't be the first time the Blood Moon changed people's lives."

  “It’s happened before?” asked Cassie.

  Donovan released her second foot and leaned back into the sofa. “Christopher Columbus used his knowledge of the Blood Moon to free his men.”

  Cassie’s eyes widened.

  "It's true," he continued. "Columbus and his men were held captive by a group of native Americans. The explorer knew a lunar eclipse was coming up, so he told the chief of the tribe that the C
hristian God was angry with him for not providing food for Columbus's crew. Columbus predicted that God would show his displeasure in three nights by making the moon turn the color of blood. When the eclipse happened, and the moon turned red, the natives were terrified. After that, Columbus and his crew were well fed and released."

  “My visions don’t mislead me,” I said. “They warn me of things to come.”

  "And that medicine pouch is stopping you from telling me the details." He nodded towards my hand, hiding in my jean's pocket, clutching the talisman.

  A smile broke on his face. “Don’t worry, I didn’t invade your mind. I read your body language and made a guess.”

  “More Sherlock than Merlin,” I said.

  “Whatever works,” he said.

  I stifled an eye-roll. "So tell me, will Sherlock or Merlin act on the information I've given you?"

  His smile froze. "I'm thinking, Yoda. I will wait and see what happens." He folded his arms.

  Anger rose in my throat. “Wait?” I spoke louder than I had intended to. “All you’re going to do is wait?”

  Donovan stood. “Virtue, patience is,” he said, and he laughed at his own Yoda joke.

  I opened my mouth to tell him exactly where he could stuff his virtue, but Plums nudged my leg. He was right, of course. Damn, I hate it when my cat is right. It wouldn't be wise to slight this arrogant son of a warlock. When the danger arrived, I would need his support.

  I stood and faced him, a million snide responses battled in my mind. “Let me know how Yoda works for you,” I said.

  He bowed to us and vanished in grey mist.

  Seven

  “The power of the moon cannot be underestimated.” ~ Merlina Black

  After he left I stared at Cassie. “That warlock sheriff of yours is useless,” I said.

  “I wouldn’t say useless,” she said. A coy smile played on her lips. “I’ve known him for a year and in that time he’s proven himself to be a hard-working, dedicated, and skilled sheriff. Everyone, other than you, admires him.”

  “He doesn’t listen,” I said.

  “Oh, you’re wrong there. He listens with more than his ears, and I’m guessing he’s going to take a good look around town for signs of vulnerability. He’ll set up patrols and ask his leaders to use all their powers to look for trouble. I trust him.”

  “Hah. I bet he’s gone back to his lair to smoke a joint. Warlocks are like that you know. Fun-seeking, selfish, hedonistic boys who never grow up.”

  Cassie laughed. “Donovan doesn’t indulge.”

  I felt my eyes widen. “What do you mean, he doesn’t indulge. Warlocks are notorious for their love of substances.”

  “And sex. You left out wanton sex.” Cassie snickered.

  Sex? Did she have to bring that up. I was trying so hard not to imagine straddling the imbecile, that my teeth hurt. “Yeah, that sums up their kind.”

  Cassie shook her head. “Maybe some, but not my Sanjay, and not Donovan. He’s a devoted single-dad, and he lives like a monk.”

  “A warlock-monk? Hah.”

  “That’s what the witches tell me. Women and men hit on him all the time, and he doesn’t respond.”

  “We need to focus on the moon,” I said.

  Cassie laughed. “He’s gotten under your thick skin.”

  I could have denied it, but there really was no point, her being my sister. “Okay, maybe. But I can’t deal with that right now. And it’s silly really. Isn’t it? Having gushy feelings at my age. And for a warlock, no less.”

  “Oh, Merlina. I wish you would stop listening to your mind and listen to your heart. There is more than one kind of wisdom.”

  “The power of three,” I said. The thought came to me in a flash. “The power of three will protect me.”

  Cassie leaned forward. “Three what?”

  “Kisses,” I said.

  She laughed. “Are you going to kiss a frog three times, or a handsome warlock?”

  “No, I’m not going to kiss the drop-dead-sexy warlock. That’s the clincher. No matter how wobbly my knees get, how frenzied the butterflies in my gut fly, or how fast my heart sputters, I will not kiss the brute.”

  “The brute? He’s a brute now?”

  “You know the rules, Cassie. The power of three rules magic. If I come up with three reasons not to kiss the freakingly-perfect, monk-like, drop-dead-delicious warlock with the voice of a naked Romeo, and built like a Michelangelo statue, I will free myself from his charms.”

  Cassie didn’t say a word, but I could see her struggling with a grin.

  “For the sake of saving the town,” I added.

  Cassie lifted a mug of steaming tea in a toast. “For the town.”

  I pulled out my phone, opened my note-taking app, and created a new page for my project titled, ‘Power of 3 will set you free.’

  I licked my lips thinking of what he would taste like, and shook my head. Cassie watched intently, sipping her morning brew.

  “Okay,” I said. “My day is planned. First, I’ll come up with one solid reason to not kiss him, then I’ll drive around town and see if I can sniff out trouble. I’m not leaving the safety of the town to that warlock.”

  Cassie looked at my phone and then back at me. “Let me get this straight. You’re making kissing notes?”

  “Oh, yeah, and I’ll bullet journal it as well. The older I get, the more I rely on writing down plans. Nothing seems to stay in my head anymore.”

  “How efficient,” she said. One corner of her mouth turned up, the other down, while the middle trembled, as if she had more to say, but was holding back.

  “Okay then,” I said. “Reason Number One. What shall it be? Help me out here.”

  Cassie sat up. “I can think of lots of reasons to kiss Donovan O’Reilly,” she said in a swoony-voice fit for a sleepover of thirteen-year-old virgins.

  I was about to say that wouldn’t help, but I hesitated. Maybe, it would help. I could invert, whatever she said into a negative. Plums groaned and put a paw over his eyes.

  I was in deep trouble. My body, mind, and soul—my whole being—wanted that warlock, more than I had wanted any other man in my life—well, except for one, but that was another story. What was wrong with me? I didn’t understand why I wanted him so much, and I certainly couldn’t figure out why my sudden craving for a mage hit me now, when we faced danger. I squeezed my medicine bag, but it didn’t help. Why did my life never make sense?

  “Okay, Cass, tell me one good reason I should kiss Donovan.”

  “He turns you on. Don’t tell me he doesn’t. You blush every time he’s in the room.”

  “That’s because I’m angry.” I groaned. But she was right. He did turn me on, every damn part of me. She nailed it.

  But I was not new to this game. I loved sex. I loved everything about sex, the primal beating of two hearts, the passion of lust, the finishing of pleasure. I sighed. The touch of a lover. I had had many men in my time, and without shame.

  That thought flipped my mind to a one-night stand that I will never forget. I didn’t know his name or his area of magical expertise, but I learned a good many other things that night. We had the kind of sex most women only dream of. We played rough and, tender, sensing each other’s wants, and fulfilling them beyond limits. He played my body like a fiddle. That had happened fifteen years ago, and no man had taken me to the same pinnacle of pleasure since. No man had even interested me, since.

  “Earth to Merlina,” said Cassie. “Earth to Merlina.”

  I closed my eyes and slowed my breathing, which had sped out of control. “Sorry, I …”

  “Uh-huh. You can’t think of even one reason to not kiss him. Just as I thought.”

  Think. Think. Reverse her statement. Think! “Reason number one—I won’t kiss Donovan O’Reilly because he doesn’t attract me, more than any other man I’ve met. It’s not worth the risk. Warlocks are dangerous after all.”

  “Uh-Huh.”

  “Well he doesn
’t. He just doesn’t. I’ve felt more excited about kissing a million other men. At this point in my life, I’m picky. He’s not for me.”

  Cassie laughed. “Whatever you say, Merlina, but I would bet you a new shiny cauldron that you couldn’t spend an evening with him, without jumping him.”

  “I don’t jump monks.” I figured that would get her off my back, but she only snickered.

  My phone beeped, and I checked the message.

  Recognizing my discomfort, Cassie stood. “What does it say? Who sent it?” she asked.

  “It’s from Donovan. He wants to meet tonight.”

  Eight

  "Don't worry if you're making waves just by being yourself. The moon does it all the time." —Scott Stabile.

  As the almost-full moon rose, I drove up the winding road to The Keep, perched high above the harbor on a rocky cliff.

  After spending the day looking around the town for trouble, I felt as if I’d done a hundred pushups. Getting “together” with Donovan O’Reilly was the last thing I wanted to do. Plums looked out the van window, thinking he could hide his twitching whiskers.

  It didn’t take me long to get there. Basically, it doesn’t take long to drive anywhere in Mystic Keep. I could have teleported us, but I wanted my van with me. It made me feel secure.

  Plums squinted at me. "So, you're like a turtle, and this beat-up, metal vehicle is your shell?"

  “You can sleep on the floor tonight,” I said.

  “In your dreams,” he murmured beneath his breath. But I heard him, and he knew I heard him. Living with Plums had its cobwebs.

  I pulled up beside the Keep, a tall stone tower, which resembled strongholds built inside European castles during the middle ages. That's how it got its name. No one seemed to know who actually made this one, though rumors abounded. The Europeans Keeps were stone sanctuaries used to hide in when enemies stormed the castle walls. This Keep had been taken over by Donovan O'Reilly and his supernatural police force, and they used it as their headquarters.