“How is drugging me protecting me?” she bit out.
“It’s best you don’t know where we are.” He crossed the floor and extended a hand.
She leaned back. “Don’t touch me.”
“I only want to make sure you don’t fall and hurt yourself.”
“I’ll be fine.”
Disapproval settled over his features as he dropped his hand. Her head was spinning, but after a second, her balance stabilized. Keeping one hand on the wall, she made her way to the bathroom, aware of Joss following within grabbing distance. Her legs were stiff from not moving for too long and her back aching from being tackled by a man three times her size, but she wasn’t going to show or admit any weakness.
She entered the bathroom, keeping an eye on him in the reflection of the mirror.
He crossed his arms and leaned in the frame. “Need help?”
The question was clinical, no double nuance evident in his tone, yet more angry heat erupted under the skin of her neck and spread to her face. The damn cheek. Did he think she’d let him help her undress? Glancing at him from over her shoulder, she said through thin lips, “No, thanks.”
A spark of humor glinted in his silver eyes. “You have been naked with a man before, haven’t you?”
She scowled at his misjudgment of the color of her face. “Again, none of your business.” Inwardly, she cringed. Yes, she’d been naked with a man. She may regret it now, but she couldn’t bring herself to hate what had happened.
“I see,” he said with a tinge of surprise.
“You see nothing.” She jutted her chin at the door. “Shut it behind you.”
He straightened, taking his time to do so, and strode past her. His T-shirt stretched over his broad shoulders as he leaned over the bath. He’d always been tall and strong, but now he filled out his clothes with more muscle, like a man who worked out. After testing the water, he closed the tap.
“For how long are you going to keep me here?” she asked.
“As long as it takes.” He dried his hand on a towel hanging on a hook next to the basin and motioned at the bath. “Take your time.” Without sparing her another glance, he left the room and closed the door as she’d demanded.
She stared at the door for a moment, trying to gather herself. She got the feeling he wasn’t always going to respect her demands.
Turning her attention back to the room, she looked around. Unlike the bedroom, the bathroom was brightly lit. It was clean but neglected. The black and white tiles on the floor were cracked and a yellowed mirror on the wall was split in two. The clawfoot bathtub would once have been pretty, but now it looked sad with rusted metal showing through the chipped enamel. The basin was broken too. The window was shuttered from the outside, although slivers of light slipped through, telling her it was still day.
Shivering, she undressed quickly, leaving her clothes in a heap on the floor before lowering herself into the water. The burn between her legs made her suck in a breath, another reminder of last night she preferred to ignore. The warmth seeped into her cold body and loosened her stiff muscles, but she didn’t linger to enjoy it. She washed her rain-soaked hair and body in record time, not wanting to stay naked for longer than necessary. Her nakedness made her feel vulnerable.
Just as she stretched an arm over the side of the bath to reach for the towel, the door opened. Gasping, she ducked under the water, making sure it covered her up to her chin.
“I brought you dry clothes,” Joss said, dropping a pile of folded garments on the closed lid of the toilet.
She gave him an icy look. “What happened to knocking?”
To her irritation, he only chuckled. When he scooped up her wet clothes from the floor, her heart jerked to a standstill. The necklace was still in her pocket.
“Leave those,” she said louder than necessary.
His eyebrows pulled together.
“That’s mine,” she added in a breathless voice.
His gaze sharpened with disturbing attention. “I’m aware of that.”
Water sloshed over the floor as she reached out with an open palm. “Give them to me.”
“Calm down.” His frown deepened. “I’m not going to steal your clothes. I’m going to clean them.”
“You’re going to wash them?” she cried out.
“I’m not going to throw them away, so yeah.”
“I can do it,” she said quickly. “I’ll do my own laundry.”
“Cle.” He gave a chastising click of his tongue. “I’ve seen a woman’s underwear before.”
“I don’t want you to—”
Before she could finish her sentence, he was gone.
Her body turned cold in the warm water. Shit. How was she going to explain the necklace in her pocket?
She jumped out of the bath, making more water splash over the side, and barely dried herself before yanking the oversized T-shirt he’d left over her head. There was no underwear. She got her feet tangled in the legs of the large sweatpants in her hurry to fit them. A vague corner of her mind registered the clean smell of washing detergent that didn’t mask the muskier and manlier scent of Joss that clung to the clothes.
She rushed for the door and stopped dead when Joss entered with a hairdryer in his hand and a look so dark on his face it made her want to shrivel up and hide. In his other hand, he carried the necklace.
Chapter 8
Holding the necklace up to her face, Joss said through clenched teeth, “Care to explain this?”
Clelia stared at the chain dangling from his fingers as water dripped from her hair and soaked the back of the T-shirt.
He dumped the hairdryer on the bench, gripped her nape, and yanked her so close that when he lowered his head, only a hairbreadth of air separated their lips. “You better start talking.”
She didn’t say anything. What was there to say? The evidence that dangled from the fisted knot of his fingers said it all.
“I thought I’d lost this,” he gritted out, clutching the chain so hard his knuckles turned white. “Meanwhile you’d stolen it?”
Resentment burned in her chest. “I didn’t steal it. It broke when we struggled.”
“Struggled?” His fingers tightened on her nape. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“I don’t know, Joss. Why don’t you tell me?” Bitterness laced her words. “Maybe it had something to do with trying to kidnap me.” The incredulous anger building like gray storm clouds in his eyes made her add, “The chain broke off in my hand. You frightened me and I ran.”
“Back up a step,” he said, dropping the chain on the counter like the argument had nothing to do with the necklace any longer. “Before we struggled, what had happened?”
She strained in his hold, but he didn’t allow her to escape. He didn’t allow her an inch of space. The heat of his body burned through the layers of their clothes as he regarded her with a wildness that reflected disbelief, shock, and anger.
“It was you, wasn’t it?” he asked in a low voice.
“I—” She swallowed, searching for words.
His jaw set into a hard line. “Finish your sentence, and don’t even think about fucking lying.” His gaze skimmed to the hickey on her neck. “I put that mark on you. Admit it.”
She reeled at the challenge. “Let’s just forget about it. It was an impulsive mistake. You have your necklace back, so we can just—”
“A mistake?” He dropped his hand from her neck so suddenly she stumbled. “Just how big, you can’t even begin to fathom.” He advanced on her, backing her up against the basin. “What we can’t do, is fucking forget about it. You, little witch, have no idea what you’ve done.”
“What I’ve done?” She braced her hands on the counter behind her and lifted her chin. “The last time I checked, it took two to tango.”
“I was out of my mind drunk. You shouldn’t have let me lay a finger on you.” His voice dropped another octave. “But we both know why you’d do something so irresponsible
. That was what you’ve always wanted.” His gaze pierced hers. “Isn’t that the truth?”
Anger surged through her and erupted like flames over her cheeks. He was referring to her stupid crush on him. “I got lost in the moment.” She added with a condescending smile, “You’re good. Convincing. I’ll give you that much.”
In turn, his smile was mocking. “I aim to please.” Dragging that dissecting gaze over her, he asked, “Did you come?”
Her cheeks burned hotter.
His smile grew wider. “Good.”
“Get out of my space,” she said, shoving him with her palms on his chest. “I never make the same mistake twice.”
He caught her wrists. “You forced me into a dire situation. When you fucked me, you forced me to take responsibility for you.”
“You owe me nothing,” she said, yanking free from his hold.
Gripping the basin on either side of her body, he caged her in. “Listen to me, little girl, and listen well. Nobody in my team can find out about this. If anyone gets as much as a sniff in the nose, I’ll be kicked off the case for conflict of interest with no way of protecting you.”
“Did I ask for your protection?”
“You forced my hand when you—”
“Fucked you,” she finished in a heated tone. “You can stop harping on it. You’ve been very clear about your feelings on the subject.”
He laughed, the sound cold. “You have no idea.”
“Oh, I have an idea all right.” She poked him on the chest. “You can wash your hands clean of what we did, but last night you wanted it too.”
“I never said I didn’t want you.”
She huffed. “Look, it happened. We can’t take it back.”
“Damn right,” he growled.
“If you’re asking for my silence, you’ve got it.”
“If this gets out…” Straightening, he dragged a hand over his head. “Fuck. I don’t even want to think about it.”
“Then don’t.” Callously, she pushed him aside, pretending the conversation didn’t hurt as she plugged in the hairdryer.
Instead of leaving like she wanted him to, Joss stared at her reflection in the cracked mirror. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She pursed her lips.
“You were embarrassed,” he said.
“Yes.”
His face darkened. “That you did it with me?”
“That you didn’t remember,” she exclaimed.
He looked angry all over again. “That was a hell of way to give away your virginity, Cle.”
“I didn’t mean for it to happen! When I saw you entering the site I thought you were just another youngster trespassing to go and get drunk, but then I recognized you.”
“And you thought you could help.” His voice softened as he swept his gaze over her body. “Did I hurt you?”
“No,” she said through parched lips.
A pained expression troubled his face. The words he pushed out sounded like they strangled him. “Did I force you?”
She couldn’t look away from his silver eyes. They shone with a feverish light, as if cold flames were burning inside him. “No.”
The tense set of his body didn’t ease. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. Still, you shouldn’t have let me take it that far. I’m a bastard at best. Don’t you know that by now?”
She squeezed the hairdryer so hard her fingers ached. “I told you I got carried away. Can we just please move on?”
“From this?” His gaze hardened. “Never.”
She wanted to ask what that was supposed to mean, but he was already stalking from the room. Her shoulders sagged. She regarded her reflection in the mirror. She looked pale and haggard. Her body was drowning in his clothes. She needed hers. She didn’t want a damn thing from him. Sighing, she switched on the hairdryer and dried her hair.
When she stepped out a short while later, he stood with his back to the window. A bare overhead light cast a hollow shine with long shadows over the space where the lamp hadn’t reached earlier. The room was circular with bare walls. A bed and nightstand were pushed against one side. A dresser, desk, and chair stood on the opposite end. The furniture seemed old, but the mattress appeared new.
“It’s not very nice, but it’s clean,” he said.
She looked up to catch him studying her with an unnervingly perceptive gaze. An awkward silence stretched as they stood facing each other on opposite sides of the room.
When she couldn’t stand the tension any longer, she said, “I need my clothes.” Wearing his felt too personal.
His voice was flat. “They’ll be dry soon.”
“My backpack,” she said, suddenly remembering she’d left it in the house where they’d been attacked.
“Maya’s got it.”
“Thoroughly searched, no doubt.”
“Of course.”
The thought that Maya had gone through her things maddened her. She resented the invasion of her privacy.
He shrugged before adding with the same, emotionless tone, “As were you.”
Her stomach flipped. She hoped to God Joss hadn’t body-searched her when she’d been passed out. She wouldn’t forgive him crossing that line. They might’ve fucked in the field, but she’d been present and willing. Being drugged and unconscious wasn’t the same.
“Don’t worry.” He dragged his cold eyes over her. “Maya patted you down in the van.”
He did want her to worry. He was toying with her. That was his strategy, to keep her uncomfortable and on edge. If he was hoping he’d break her, he had another think coming. She wasn’t going to stick around like a sitting duck playing bait to draw out her grandfather.
He pointed at the bed. “Sit.”
“Why?”
His eyes tightened. “You’re still my hostage or do you need a reminder?”
Glaring at him, she walked to the bed.
He waited until she was balanced on the edge before he walked over and crouched down in front of her. After rolling up the sweatpants, he inspected her knees and feet. “I don’t have a first aid kit here, but I’ll treat those later.”
“It’s nothing.”
He rolled down the pants and straightened to stare down at her with steel-gray eyes. “It’s not nothing. It happened last night. That makes those injuries my responsibility.”
“They’re hardly injuries.”
“Stay.”
The command made her back snap straight. She wasn’t a pet he could command to fetch and roll over. If he noticed her irritation, he didn’t acknowledge it. He simply disappeared into the bathroom with the confidence of a jailor who knew his prisoner would stay. It wasn’t as if she had a choice.
He returned with disinfectant. “This is the best I can do for now.”
Guilt ate at her conscience as she watched him pour some disinfectant on a cotton swab. When he dabbed a cut with the swab, she asked, “Is Maya your girlfriend?”
He stilled. “If I had a girlfriend, I wouldn’t have had sex with you.”
At least that was one guilt less to carry.
“What made you think that?” he asked, continuing with his task.
“What people said.”
“You shouldn’t listen to what people say.”
“Don’t patronize me.” She hissed at the sting. “I’m not a child any longer.”
“Don’t I know that,” he mumbled.
She pulled her leg from his touch. “I’m sorry you’re so freaked out about having sex with me, but can we just let it go?”
“No.” His tone was brusque. “It may not be important to you, but I take sex very seriously.”
“I didn’t say it wasn’t important— You know what? Forget it. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
Clenching his jaw, he straightened and threw the swab in the trashcan. He took a shopping bag from the chair and held it out at her. “Make the bed.”
She stared at the bag. “You want me to make the bed?”
; “That’s what I said.”
“Why?”
Another one of those cat-and-mouse smiles played on his lips. “I don’t want you to lie on a bare mattress.”
“What if I refuse?”
He shrugged. “Suit yourself.” When she didn’t say anything, he grinned. “Thought so.”
He threw the bag at her. She caught it in a reflex reaction, staring daggers at him before extracting linen that smelled of laundry detergent.
“I washed and dried them while you were knocked out,” he said.
The act seemed oddly out of character for Joss. He opened another bag and handed her a new pillow. While she moved around the bed to pull the sheets straight, he watched her with crossed arms and an unreadable expression.
When she’d finished, he said, “Thank you. Lie down.”
She sucked in a breath, her heart doing a summersault in her chest. “Why?”
“Don’t get your hopes up, sweetness,” he said with sarcasm. “I’m not going to repeat last night.”
She balled her hands into fists, feeling like punching him. “You’re such an asshole.”
“Yeah.” He closed the short distance between them. “That shouldn’t be news to you. You’ve known me for long enough.”
“You make me regret knowing you at all,” she said through the knot tying in her throat.
He grinned, a cold and heartless gesture. “That’s nothing new either. At least you’re finally seeing me without the rose-colored glasses.”
“Yes,” she said, gritting her teeth. “Thanks for that.”
His grin turned flat. “You’re welcome. Now do as I say and lie down.”
Was he going to drug her again? Her bravado slipped a little. “I need to go home.”
He took a step toward her. “Lie down, Cle.”
She backed away, stumbling and flopping down on the bed in her haste to put distance between them.
“Look,” he said with a sigh, his tone turning placating. “I don’t want to hurt you. We have to talk, but there are things I need to take care of first.”
Grabbing her shoulders, he pushed her down onto her back. She stared at him with her heart thundering in her chest as he dragged his palms over her arms to her wrists, intertwining their fingers before lifting her arms above her head.
Pyromancist SECOND EDITION: Art of Fire (7 Forbidden Arts Book 1) Page 8
