Nothing in Joss’s demeanor betrayed his feelings. He only lowered his head and lifted his iron-hard eyes to hers. Their gazes wrestled. The memory of the weight of his body as it had pressed against hers was so fresh in her mind she could still feel it. The flare of his eyes told her he knew where her mind was dwelling, but instead of acknowledging her feelings, he turned away and left her cold.
Hot, cold. Pull, push. The fight was exhausting.
She closed the door behind her and pressed her back against it, trying to digest the information Cain had shared. Maya was right. The attraction between Joss and herself was undeniable. She could never place Joss in a position of choosing between her and his mission.
As the truth dawned on her, she shuddered in the midday heat. The boat had slowed down. When it came to a halt and the noise of the engines died, Cain’s voice drifted through the open window of the lounge.
“I believe you, Joss, and what you say about her blood, but I sense something profound. When it surfaces, it will be powerful. You have to tell me now if you can remain objective enough to complete your mission. Can you eliminate her if you have to?”
“I’ll do what’s right,” Joss said.
She backed away from the door just as Maya appeared.
“I have to take you to your cabin. The boat has stopped.”
“That won’t be necessary,” a voice said behind them.
Clelia turned. Joss stood in the door of the lounge.
“I’ll take her,” he said, sounding cold and hot and everything confusing in between.
“Cain won’t like it,” Maya said, “but who am I to challenge what you’ve marked as yours?”
“I haven’t marked anything,” Joss gritted out.
Maya snorted. “Like hell. But if it makes you happy, just go on believing that.” She turned on her heel and left.
“Come,” Joss said with a tilt of his head.
Taking Clelia’s arm, he led her below deck, almost shoving her into the cabin before slamming the door behind them.
“Do you like Bono?” he asked. “He’s hard to resist. Pilot. Good looks. Women like those sorts of things. Is he what you’re looking for?”
Taken aback, she blinked.
“I saw the way he looked at you,” he continued, “and I saw the way you smiled at him.”
“How did I smile at him?”
“Like you shouldn’t,” he bit out. “A man might get the wrong idea. Men are stupid that way.”
“We didn’t look at each other in any way.”
He grabbed her to him and cupped her ass. “I didn’t like it, how he looked at you.”
“How did he look at me? Like a man who’d kill me?”
He released her so abruptly she almost stumbled.
“Or is that your job?”
He stared at her with narrowed eyes, looking like he wanted to say more, but then he left and slammed the door.
She stared at the flimsy wood, shaking with a mixture of fear, anger, and confusion. Joss found himself in a hell of a predicament. She wasn’t insensitive to his situation. From his point of view, having sex muddled everything. Like Cain had said, he wanted to do right by her, but he also wanted to do what was right for the team.
The more she thought about it, the more she knew there was only one solution.
She had to save herself.
She had to escape.
Chapter 16
The cabin was hot when Clelia woke up from her nap. It had been baking in the sun all afternoon. The orange glow shining through the tiny window told her the sun was already low. Rubbing her eyes, she sat up, and then jerked when she noticed Maya leaning against the wall in the corner.
“What the hell?” Clelia exclaimed.
“I didn’t want to wake you.” Maya pushed off the wall. “You missed dinner.”
Clelia looked around for a clock. “What time is it?” How long had she napped?
“Past eight. I saved you a plate. It’s confit de canard, Bono’s favorite.”
She felt sticky and her T-shirt stuck to her skin. A shower would be welcome. “I’m not hungry, but thanks.”
“The effect of the tranquilizer should’ve worn off by now. If you still don’t have an appetite, I may have to call a doctor to have a look at you. You should also know Joss threatened to spoon-feed you after forcing an appetite enhancer down your throat.”
Just thinking of food made her feel sick. It had more to do with her emotional state than a biological side effect, but if she was going to escape, she needed her strength.
“I’ll lead the way,” Maya said with a smirk, moving toward the door.
She followed Maya to the lounge where a place for one was set at the table. Maya went to the kitchen and returned with a plate of food she put in front of Clelia.
“Feel free to grab anything from the kitchen anytime you want,” Maya said. “I’ve got admin work to do, reports and shit. Can I leave you to it or do you prefer company?”
“I’m fine.” She definitely preferred solitude over Maya’s company.
“As you wish.” Maya sauntered to the door and left.
Clelia pulled the plate closer and cut into the duck. She ate, not tasting a thing. Maya had left a glass of milk as if she was a child. When she’d finished, she drank the milk too, taking in as many nutrients as she could.
“If you’d rather have a glass of wine, I’ll pour you one,” Joss said from the door.
The sound of his voice made her jump. Tensing, she put the empty glass on the table and tracked his movement as he crossed the floor.
“Well?” he said, stopping short of her.
“No, thanks.”
“You’re finally eating.” He crossed his arms. “Good. I was about to feed you.”
She looked at her plate, anywhere so she didn’t have to look at him.
He pulled out a chair and sat down. “There’s something I need to explain to you.”
The seriousness of his tone made her lift her eyes.
“Because of what my father did to my mother, I can’t tolerate abuse, especially not against someone weaker and smaller. What Iwig did to you that day in the forest drove me close to murder. I almost deported Maya to head office for hitting you.” His gaze dropped to her neck. “What I did to you is inexcusable. And when I saw Bono’s hands on you today, I saw you defenseless and so goddamn delicate. I saw you at any man’s mercy.”
“I’m not fragile or helpless. I can take care of myself.”
“I didn’t say you’re helpless.”
“But you think you need to save me,” she said, sadness infusing her tone, “and it’s tearing you apart.”
“I’ll do the right thing.” Even as the words left his lips, doubt clouded his eyes.
“What is the right thing?” she whispered.
His face turned into a stony mask as he gave her the only answer he could—silence.
What the fuck was he going to do? Joss rubbed a hand over the stubble on his chin, studying Clelia through hooded eyes. He couldn’t let anyone get a hint of the conflict warring in his chest. Would he kill her if Cain ordered her execution? There was no question about the answer. He’d have no choice but to betray his team and go on the run with her.
Fuck.
The chair grated over the floor when he got to his feet. “I think I need that glass of wine. You look like you can do with one too.”
“I’m fine.”
“It’s a Château Barreyres. I forgot how good French wine is.”
“I don’t blame you for wanting to forget,” she said, her voice not entirely unkind.
He wanted to forget many things, things that wouldn’t let him.
“I shouldn’t have said that.” She bit her lip. “That was insensitive.”
He couldn’t help himself from wiping a strand of hair from her face. It was a pathetic excuse to touch her. “I didn’t forget you.”
Her slanted eyes widened. Her irises were almost as dark as her pupils, creating
a stunning infinity of midnight black.
“I did notice you, even if you were only a child,” he said. “I tried not to, as God is my witness, but you were so pretty, so innocent, and so damn untouchable.”
“Joss—”
“I thought of you when I fucked her that day.” The confession was shameful, but it felt good getting if off his chest. “When I closed my eyes and came, it’s your face I saw.”
She pushed away from the table. “I don’t want to hear it.”
He grabbed her wrist before she could escape. “I shouldn’t have wanted you. Not then, and not even now that you’re a woman.” He didn’t repeat the reason. Harping on the fact that they stood on opposite sides of the fence wasn’t helpful.
She jumped up, her small breasts heaving. “Don’t.”
“Don’t say I want you, or don’t say I shouldn’t want you?” He yanked her so close her nipples brushed his chest with every breath she took. “Are you scared of the truth?”
Her regard was sober, her voice soft. “I don’t think we can afford any more truths.”
He didn’t like the look of resignation in her eyes. “I’m going to help you.” No matter the cost. If it meant losing the life he’d so painstakingly reconstructed, so be it.
She steeled her spine, trying to look brave when he knew she was scared. “I didn’t ask for your help.”
“You’re getting it anyway.” Reaching out, he traced the curve of her collarbone. His hand was steady but his breathing quickened. He didn’t touch her with more than the tip of his finger, following the strap of her top over her shoulder, yet he felt it with every fiber of his being. “We’ll find Erwan and settle this once and for all.”
Goosebumps broke out over her arm. She wasn’t unaffected. At the fluttering of her eyelashes, he reluctantly withdrew his hand. There was no point in teasing if he had no intention of taking it further. God knew, he wanted to. He had every intention of finishing what they’d started and remembering it this time, but not while she was his prisoner. Not when it would seem he didn’t give her a choice.
Staring down at her, he saw the exact moment her hazy gaze refocused and reality set back in. She could’ve walked away, but she only took a step back. An invisible force pushed and pulled between them. Need sparred with duty and honor. Summoning inhumane willpower, he let honor win.
“I needed you to know that,” he said, a lame excuse for his earlier behavior, which, if he was honest, was nothing but irrational jealousy.
One of them had to leave before he did something impulsive and unwise. One of them had to gather the strength. Instead of placing that responsibility on her shoulders, he turned for the door, but she gripped his hand. “Give me one more night.”
He allowed the sweetness of the request to seduce him before he pushed the temptation away. “Not here.” Not on a narrow cot in a cabin with paper-thin walls that served as her jail cell.
“Why not?”
He couldn’t scrounge the courage to say it to her face. “You know.”
“We may never have another chance.”
Suspicion hardened his tone. “Why are you talking like this?”
“No reason.” Taking another step back, she said, “Forget I asked.”
Fuck. Why was this so hard? Resting his hands on his hips, he hung his head. “I’ll take you back to the cabin. Maya will keep you company.”
“Maya is a poor substitute,” she said, trying hard to go for humor, but her smile didn’t fool him. “You can at least walk me back.”
Offering his arm, he led her to the deck. Walking arm in arm was pretending something that wasn’t true, and even if he hated himself for the playact, he couldn’t make himself pull away.
The sun was dipping behind the horizon. It would’ve been nice to spend a few minutes in the fresh air, but the boat wasn’t moving and he had to get her back to her cabin before someone noticed he was breaking the rules. The team was already suspicious enough where Clelia was concerned. He didn’t need to give them more reason to doubt his intentions. Luckily, they didn’t run into anyone. The team was probably still gathered in the lounge where he’d left them earlier.
He opened her cabin door and stood aside for her to enter. Obediently, she strolled inside. He was going to say goodnight and close the door, but then she lifted her arms and pulled her T-shirt over her head. He stood rooted to the spot, staring at the curves of her breasts under the black lace of her bra. The tips of her breasts were hard like candy. Had he kissed those breasts when he’d been drunk? He sure as hell hoped so. They’d be a perfect treat for his tongue. His cock grew hard, straining against the zipper of his pants. When she undid the button of her shorts, he snapped out of it.
“What are you doing?” he asked, raking his eyes over her pale, slender form.
Laying down on the bed, she said, “You started it this time. Finish it.”
Fuck. Just a kiss. He was just going to taste her lips. That’s what he told himself as he kicked the door shut and prowled to the bed. Once he’d reached his destination, he stood there like a fool, feeling like the dog that had caught the car. He could only clench and unclench his hands to prevent himself from touching her.
Taking his hand, she placed it over her heart. His fingers curled involuntarily around the soft curve of her breast. Her heartbeat spiked when he squeezed, mirroring the erratic rhythm of his own heartbeat.
“Make the need stop,” she said.
It took every ounce of his willpower, but he managed a small smile. “I can’t make it stop.”
“Then take it away.”
Fuck it. He was only a man, and she was a temptation he found near impossible to resist. He had no idea how this was going to play out. He only knew this crazy attraction wasn’t going to blow over by itself. It wouldn’t let them go until they’d fucked it out of their systems.
Only a kiss, he reminded himself with stern intention as he sat down next to her and framed her face between his palms. She’d taken something from him in that graveyard—his ability to remain objective where she was concerned. But he’d taken a hell of a lot more from her. He carried all the blame, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to fix this mess.
Lowering his head, he let her warm breath ghost over his lips. He closed his eyes so he wouldn’t see her pretty face. If he looked into the dark pools of her eyes, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop.
Gently, he kissed her eyes, nose, lips, and jaw. He kissed the column of her neck and sucked at the juncture with her shoulder, selfishly leaving a new mark on her skin. Only the fact that she kept perfectly still prevented him from stopping. He wouldn’t be able to if she laid her hands on him. He could worship her body, but wouldn’t take them to the point of no return.
When he lifted his head, she said, “More.”
It was a bad idea, but he hated denying her as much as he’d ever hated anything. Gripping her wrists in one hand, he lifted her arms over her head and pressed them to the bed to prevent her from touching him. This way, he’d maintain a measure of self-control.
“More,” she begged again, so he gave her more.
He kissed the upper curves of her breasts, not daring to let his lips wander toward the peaks that would be his undoing. Instead he imagined sucking the hard tips into his mouth and dragging his tongue around each nipple before biting down softly. He could make her come like that. He’d done that with women before, but none of them had mattered. Clelia was different. They shared enough that mattered to ignore his need for setting her on fire before dousing it with his cock.
“You’re still angry with me,” she whispered when he tore himself away from her body.
Yes, he was angry, but not with her. “The blame’s all mine.”
He’d seduced her into giving away her virginity in a field of thorns, in the fucking dirt, to a man who couldn’t even remember it. They’d both been denied because of his blind, uncontrollable lust.
Of course he wanted to be her first. He was only a
man. More than that, he wanted to be her last. A black hole in his memory or not, he’d claimed her. She was his. By her own design, she’d always been his, seeing she’d chosen him when they were only kids. A lot of shit between then and now had driven him away from his hometown, but after seeing her again, he wanted to keep her. He wanted to kill any man who looked at her. Yes, he was burning, but he’d rather burn in hell than take advantage of her again. She deserved better than a single bed in a cramped cabin on a rocking boat. She deserved better than the first time he’d given her. He wanted another chance. He wanted a remake. Come hell or high water, he’d rewrite that chapter. Their story wasn’t going to begin like this, not on his damn shift.
Giving her a last, gentle kiss, he arranged her arms at her sides and stepped away.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Stopping us from doing something I’ll regret.”
Her eyes flashed. “You use regret a lot when you talk about us.”
“You know what I mean.”
She pushed up onto her elbows. “I want this.”
“You don’t.”
A frown marred her pretty face. “Don’t tell me what I want and don’t want.”
Did she, though? Did she know what she wanted? She was only getting a taste of the real him. He was no angel or good husband material. “There’s a theory about captives developing a sexual fixation on their captors.”
“Is that the excuse you’re choosing? Don’t insult my intelligence.”
“Just making sure you know what you’re getting yourself into.” Anyway, it was too late now. They’d just have to deal. He backtracked to the door. “Good night, little witch.”
Lying back down, she covered her face with her arm. With her face concealed, the bruises on her neck drew his attention, damage he’d done in the name of love and war where everything was supposed to be fair. Only, life didn’t work like that. Nothing was fair.
“If you need anything—” he started.
“I won’t.”
With a sigh he felt to his bones, he left quietly, making sure he closed the door behind him. Never had he regretted a drunken spell more in his life. If only he could turn back time. Damn. He needed a chiromancist.
Pyromancist SECOND EDITION: Art of Fire (7 Forbidden Arts Book 1) Page 16
