A Warlock’s Storm
Meet Rey…. (Her POV)
Reynolds Stanford was a tall strapping man. His shoulders were wide under the fitted white t-shirt now sullied from the slayed monster’s blood, his posture solid with the harpoon planted at his side.
Saira’s insides, still bristling from the shifting hormones, rumbled with lust. Her niece Kerala had forgotten to mention how hot the recluse warlock was.
“What the hell is this?” Rey glanced at the sea then back at her, his brows knitted in confusion. “Where did you come from?”
She shrugged, her lips still curled in gentle amusement at recalling his earlier shock of seeing her appear out of nowhere. “Your cousin Diesel sent me.”
“Diesel, huh?” His tone lightened as he shook his head and stored his harpoon by the hatch leading below. “I should have known, the boy likes his magic.”
“He thought you might need help.” Barely five minutes ago, she’d been standing inside a magical circle at Breaker Hall in Seaport while Diesel and his mother, both extremely powerful sorcerers, had performed the ritual that had sent her here.
When her niece Kerala—who also happened to be Diesel Stanford’s wife—had learned through her fishermen connections that their cousin Rey had decided to sit out the tropical storm in a haunted cove, Diesel had been worried for his safety. Saira had volunteered to help. She’d been visiting with the couple for a fortnight and getting bored.
From her perch on the top deck, she surveyed the perfect circle of bay in the last light of the ending day. The mounting surf crashed at the shore on high cliffs dotted with tall pines. The one narrow pebble beach was littered with small, broken derelict boats, their mismatched planks oddly jutted upwards in their final journey.
She shuddered and her smile vanished. “Devil Eye Cove. Doesn’t look like the friendliest place.”