He considered striking up a conversation, but dropped the idea as quickly as it had formed. Idle talking wasn’t his thing. Besides, his companion was clearly not in the mood for small talk. Instead he took out his phone to check if there was a message from Cain about Lupien’s whereabouts. Cain had promised to keep him in the loop. Their understanding was that Joss would cut short his sabbatical and return to the team should they pick up the pyromancist’s trace.
Clelia fiddled with her napkin until the food arrived. It was a simple meal of onion soup and cassoulet, but the hearty food was filling. She needed some flesh on her bones.
While she ate, he studied her heart-shaped faced framed by long, midnight black hair. She wore her hair loose tonight. It was so thick and straight it fell like a curtain of silk to the small of her back. The cut of her fringe was a harsh, solid line, no feathery bangs or soft wisps falling around her face. The style was bold, hard, but it only enhanced her pretty features and delicate bone structure. Short and slender, she could easily be mistaken for one of the legendary fairies the forest near their hometown was famous for. Sometimes, he forgot she wasn’t weak. She was strong, all right, strong enough to have escaped him and survive. Yet there were forces in the world for which no man was a match, let alone a little woman. He preferred to, where she was concerned, avoid danger rather than going for a head-on collision. Unfortunately the collision was unavoidable, and that chilled him to the bone.
They finished dinner early. She needed rest. She was going to need her strength for what waited in Brittany. Walking Clelia back upstairs with his hand on her back, he suddenly had the weird notion that he was courting her. He’d never courted a woman in his life. His strategy was to go for the kill quickly without a hidden agenda, and the reward he offered was satisfaction guaranteed. This possessiveness however, this indescribable joy at finding her together with the paralyzing fear of losing her, were new.
Back inside the apartment, he locked the door and activated the alarm.
Chewing her bottom lip, Clelia glanced down the hallway. “Which room shall I use?”
“You mean which room are we going to use.”
She gave him a narrowed look meant to be demeaning, but her eyelashes fluttered in a nervous way. “We don’t need to share a bed.”
“Yes, we do,” he said widening his stance and crossing his arms. He might be enjoying her obvious discomfort a bit too much. Served her right for everything she’d put him through.
She planted her fists on her hips. “Why?”
“To make sure you don’t try anything as foolish as running again.” That wasn’t the whole truth. She was locked in with nowhere to go. He liked the idea of being that close to her, of sharing a bed. They’d done it once and he wanted to hear and feel her breath in the dark again. He liked her reaction, liked that he made her nervous. It showed he had an effect on her. Any effect, even her loathing, was better than nothing.
Untangling his arms, he walked closer. “Nothing is going to happen.” He added in a low voice, “Unless you want it to.”
As he expected, she fled. She turned and walked away with a stiff back and square shoulders. He grinned. The act didn’t fool him. She might walk like she owned this place, but it was still running.
“I’ll maintain control for both of us,” he called after her with a grin.
She entered the bathroom and slammed the door.
When the water in the shower came on, he brought their luggage to the room and fetched two bottles of water from the fridge, which he left on the nightstands. Stretching out on the bed with his back against the headboard, he checked his phone again. There was a message from Cain about pending notes on a mission report and an apology for interrupting Joss’s holiday.
He’d just logged into the report file on his tablet when the bathroom door opened. Clelia stood in the frame, dressed in the white nightdress he’d bought in Vannes. His finger paused above the keys as he took her in. The silk clung to her body, accentuating her curves. His gaze roamed over her, from the hard points of her breasts to the dip of her navel, finally stopping on the small mound in the center of her legs.
He swallowed. The nightdress was the only sleepwear he’d packed. Unless she was going to sleep naked, he’d given her no choice of what to wear to bed. At the time, it had seemed like a good idea. He wanted to see her in the white negligée. Maybe he also wanted to punish her a little for throwing everything back in his face. Now it seemed like the worst idea ever. Lowering the tablet, he hid the hard-on that strained against the zipper of his pants.
She flittered into the room like he didn’t exist. When she dumped the dress she’d worn in the overnight bag on the floor, she flashed him with a view of her naked back and perfectly rounded ass. Wanting had never been the burning, sweet, agonizing pain punishing him now.
“It’s late,” he said in a clipped tone, masking his lust with anger. “Come to bed.”
She turned slowly. Tracing the lace trimming on the V of the neck with a finger, she sauntered to the bed. “I thought you’d be into something more provocative.”
“More provocative?” There was nothing more provocative than her tight little body in that innocent white silk.
“You seem more like the black leather and red lace kind.” She stopped at the side of the bed.
His voice dropped an octave. “Are you teasing me?” With the seductive act, he was going to add, but she was slithering next to him onto the mattress.
She smiled, all smugness. “You’re the one who said you have control.”
The pretty witch was getting her own back. He all but growled. If this was a test, he was going to fail it miserably.
“Is this how you saw me?” She rolled onto her stomach and rested her chin in her hands. “Virginal innocence?”
More or less. Was he that transparent? He clenched his jaw.
“What do you prefer?” she asked. “In normal circumstances, I mean.”
The way the silk draped over her peachy ass left little to the imagination. Resisting the urge to throw a blanket over her as-good-as-naked body, he got up and put away the tablet. Gruffly, he said, “I like what you’re wearing.” Then he added with more snide than needed, “I bought it, didn’t I?”
“Yes, but what turns you on? Good girls or bad ones?”
You. He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “Get under the fucking covers, Cle.”
Surprisingly, she obeyed, wiggling and ironing out the sheets until she was comfortable in her nest.
He pulled his T-shirt over his head and threw it on the chair before unzipping his pants. She watched him undress, following his actions with her eyes until he stood only in his briefs. He shouldn’t have made that promise about keeping his control. It was a dumb move that gave her too much power. She was testing that power, taking him to the limit.
“What now, Joss?” she challenged, pushing up on one elbow. “Do you still want to sleep in the same bed?”
Ah. If this was a ploy of getting him to sleep in a different room, she had another think coming.
He walked to the bed and stared down at her. “The day will come that you won’t be my little virgin any longer, and then you won’t lie in my bed and act so bravely.”
The seductive smile dropped as her cheeks paled. “I’m not yours, and I’m no longer a virgin.”
Leaning over her, he placed his palms on either side of her face. “To me, you are, and you will be until I remember taking it. As for being mine, you’ve signed that fate in blood.”
Anger sparked in her eyes as she clenched her hand into a fist.
He predicted the move before she could strike, grabbing her wrist and pinning it above her head. “Hit me, and you’ll sit in a train tomorrow with a smarting ass.”
She hissed like an angry kitten. “Let me go.”
When she yanked on his hold, he loosened his fingers. Keeping one eye on her, he went around the bed, got in, and turned off the light.
She rolled onto her side and
shifted to the edge of the mattress, as far away from him as possible. She was angry now, just like he was, but when her breath finally evened out and he closed his eyes, he got a glimpse of how a normal life could be—a life with a woman.
Chapter 27
The dream returned, but this time it wasn’t Joss who climbed from the helicopter. Clelia couldn’t see the man’s face. However his clothes were familiar. She knew him. His identity was like a word on the tip of her tongue she just couldn’t grasp.
She stood on the jetty as the man walked toward her. Instinct screamed at her to run, but she was frozen to the spot. The distance between them shrunk. Flames leapt in the air, the smoke burning her nostrils and filling her lungs. Closer still. She willed her body to move, but she could only stand there and watch in horror as the man extended a hand, reaching for her.
She shot upright with a gasp. There was no smoke, no fire. No recognition of where she was. Only darkness and her ragged breathing. She jumped when a hand fell on her shoulder.
“Hey.” Joss’s voice penetrated the fog of sleep that lingered. Soft, cajoling. “It’s me.”
Then it all came back to her—where she was and with who. The question remained, why? She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms.
“The dream?” he asked, pulling her hands away from her face.
“It’s started again.”
He wrapped his arms around her. “You’re safe.”
Even as he said it, she recognized the lie. “What if I sleepwalk like before?”
“You’re not going anywhere,” he said, stroking her hair. A tinge of darkness invaded his voice. “I won’t let you.”
The depth of the promise scared her. She pushed away and threw the covers aside.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“What time is it?”
“Just after four.”
“I can’t sleep anymore.” She swung her legs over the bed. “It’s the shifts at the bar. I got used to sleeping in the day and working at night.”
His voice was sympathetic. “Do you want to watch a movie or read something?”
“I may as well get up,” she said, getting to her feet.
She walked to the closet and grabbed the first dress her hand fell on. Taking it to the bathroom, she switched on the light and closed the door behind her. Dropping the dress on the vanity, she stared at her face in the mirror. Dark eyes set against a pale skin stared back at her. From the photos she’d seen, she looked a lot like her mother. Perspiration beaded on her forehead. She didn’t want to be her mother. She didn’t want to set objects on fire and earn the wrath of every other human on Earth. She didn’t want to be that lonely. She gripped the edges of the counter. She didn’t want to be the evil Joss hunted.
The door opened and darkness from the room spilled into the light. Joss stood in the frame. Their eyes clashed in the mirror. There were questions in his for which she didn’t have answers.
“I knocked,” he said. “You didn’t answer.”
“I didn’t hear.”
Frowning, he crossed the floor and stopped behind her. “Was it the same?”
“Except that it wasn’t you.”
He couldn’t hide the concern showing on his face, not so early in the morning when masks and lies weren’t in place. “Who?”
She opened the tap and splashed water on her face. “I don’t know.”
He took a towel from the shelf and handed it to her.
Taking it with a, “Thank you,” she dragged it over her face before turning and leaning on the counter. “When this Lupien finds us—”
He crossed his arms. “I said you don’t have to worry about that now.”
“Do you hear yourself?” She dumped the towel on the counter. “This is my life.”
“Both our lives.”
The blood dropped from her head to her toes when a realization hit her. “You’re using me as bait.” She stared at him with parted lips. “That’s why you’re taking me back.”
This wasn’t about her and Joss or what he believed she owed him. This wasn’t only about his revenge. This was about his job, about completing his mission. He was using her.
“You’re unbelievable,” she said with a smile that froze her heart.
He only watched her with a bunching jaw, his silence as good an answer as if he’d admitted it out loud.
She said in a flat voice, “I’d like to get ready.”
He gave a resigned nod. “I’ll order breakfast.”
Leaving her to the bright, judging light of the bathroom, he quietly closed the door. She turned back to the mirror. She couldn’t help but hate herself even more. How foolish. Deep down, she’d hoped Joss had come for something else. Something different. She should’ve known better. It wasn’t a mistake she’d make again. This time, she wouldn’t bury her feelings so deep that the hurt was only a dull but persistent ache. This time, she’d rip them out of her chest, roots and thorns, even if she had to sacrifice the tree. She’d rather live without a heart than be a slave to the pain.
Chapter 28
Four hours later, after a breakfast of croissants and coffee, the same driver from the day before drove them to the station. Clelia didn’t miss how Joss scanned the crowd, looking for danger. Only a few months ago, she’d went about her life freely and without fear. Her biggest concern was getting to work on time. She’d had no other responsibilities than taking care of her animals and preparing Erwan’s dinner. Going back was no longer a choice, just as she couldn’t get back her innocence. The only way was forward.
She’d had time to think in the shower. She had a plan. Joss was taking her back to Lamor, back to Erwan. At the first opportunity that came along, she’d get away, find Erwan, and go on the run. Indefinitely. Together with Erwan, they could hop the islands together. If they were careful, no one would find them. If she removed herself from society, her art wouldn’t pose a threat. It was the perfect solution to the dilemma she found herself in. She only had to bide her time and be patient.
They got into a first-class carriage. Joss made her sit against the window, placing his body like a barrier in the aisle seat.
“I’m sorry we can’t fly,” he said. “I’ve given Bono leave for the time I took my sabbatical. All the commercial flights were full.”
She shrugged. “I don’t mind.”
“Can I get you anything? Coffee?”
Turning her back on him, she snuggled into the corner and closed her eyes. “I’m good, thanks.”
It didn’t take her long to doze off. Joss woke her when the train stopped in Vannes. He rented a car at the station. Nostalgia overwhelmed her at being so close to home. She glanced at Joss when he bundled her into the car. Lines of worry hardened his eyes and mouth.
It would’ve taken them fifteen minutes to drive to Larmor-Baden, but instead he took the turn-off to Josselin, the village named after his ancestor, the first Viscount Josselin de Arradon.
Clelia shot him a questioning look. “We’re not going home?”
“We are.” His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Just not the one where you grew up.”
Because it wasn’t safe.
They drove in silence until a lake came into view. Fog hung over the water. The treetops of the surrounding forest protruded above the bank of mist, painting a green brushstroke across the gray landscape.
Joss’s eyes looked just like the metallic sky—cloudy and cold. His hair was tied back with a leather string, highlighting his high cheekbones and square jaw. A strand that had escaped brushed his cheek. Under the fabric of his coat that stretched over his upper arms, his muscles flexed. He was wary.
Near the lake, a dirt track cut from the main road into the forest. When he slowed and took the exit, she understood his preoccupation. They were heading toward the Arradon castle, the heritage Joss so fiercely denied.
The road became bumpy as they rounded the lake and drove deeper into the forest. A pothole jostled her body.
He
covered her hand with his. “Sorry about the uncomfortable ride. The road isn’t maintained.”
He gripped the wheel again to navigate the unkempt road. Around the bend, the towers of the castle came into view. A cluster of dense trees sheltered the stone structure. The property stretched to the shore where water washed up on an ash-colored beach. Except for the evergreen forest, everything was gunmetal gray.
When they cleared the trees, Clelia leaned forward for a better view. The slate-colored castle stood against a bleak sky. Square towers framed either end, and a steep A-line roof covered the central part. All that was left of its once glorious garden was a dry fountain overgrown with weeds, a gazebo that had become a pigeon shelter, and a dilapidated jetty.
She imagined the former inhabitants lounging on the beach while a symphony orchestra played in the garden. Champagne would’ve flowed from a fountain in the gazebo. In her mind’s eye, she saw ladies in ballroom gowns playing croquet on the lawn and gentlemen galloping on their purebred horses in the woods. What lay in front of them was only the skeleton of former glamor and glory.
Most of the windows were shuttered, except for some on the ground and first floors in which lights were shining. She stole another glance at Joss.
He brought the car to a stop in front of the double doors. “I haven’t been back since I was a child, and the place has been standing empty ever since, so don’t expect too much.”
He unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned over. When he unclipped hers, his hand brushed against her breast. Despite herself, a spark lit under her skin. She may have ripped out her heart to kill her feelings, but her body didn’t know how to react differently. Her body knew only Joss.
“I’ve tried to make it as comfortable as possible.” The words sounded like an apology, a strange sentiment for Joss.
“Have you heard anything about Erwan?” she asked carefully, unable to hold in the question.
“You may not see him before we leave.”
“Before we leave?”
Pyromancist SECOND EDITION: Art of Fire (7 Forbidden Arts Book 1) Page 22
