Pyromancist SECOND EDITION: Art of Fire (7 Forbidden Arts Book 1)

by Charmaine Pauls

  “Then give me reason to.”

  “Fine.” He threw an arm over the back of his chair. “I deserve that.”

  “Good. I’m glad we’re on the same page for once.”

  “Cut out the sass, Cle. We don’t have time.”

  Her self-control snapped. “Cut out the bossiness. You’re behaving like an alpha asshole.”

  A grin stretched his lips, but there was no humor in the gesture. “You haven’t seen that side of me yet, and believe me, little witch, you don’t want to.”

  “Just get to the point,” she said, taking the glass and throwing back half of the champagne.

  His gaze followed the action, disapproval written on his face. “According to my research, regressed art is awakened by intense practice of the art and the presence of a master.”

  Her gut tightened at the mention of the master. “Lupien?”

  “The records are limited. Firestarting hasn’t been practiced for many centuries. From what I could find, children inherit the art from their parents and are taught to control it from a young age. In the absence of a role model, the art becomes regressed. There’s no proof that a regressed art can be awakened, but the scripts suggest one could make the art resurface by constant exposure to said art.”

  “The burning of the houses.”

  “Maybe. I can’t come up with another plausible explanation.”

  Despite her trepidation, her interest was piqued. “Where did you find these records?”

  “Lann collects antique books. His private library was a valuable source of information.”

  “If burning down fifty houses was supposed to awaken my art, the destruction was for nothing. It didn’t work.”

  Izabell entered with two steaming plates of food she placed in front of them. “Grilled sea bass in a fern and salted butter sauce, and grilled vegetables on the side. It’s the best I could do with a grill on the kitchen fire. Tomorrow I should have fresh lobster.”

  “This looks delicious, thank you,” Clelia said.

  Izabell turned to Joss. “Would you like a Sauvignon Blanc with your main course?”

  Again, Joss looked at Clelia for the answer.

  “I’m fine with the champagne.” Her head was already spinning from the half a glass she’d downed on an all but empty stomach.

  “I’ll leave your dessert in the kitchen,” Izabell said. “I’ll be on my way then, unless there’s anything else you need?”

  Joss got to his feet. “Thank you for taking care of our dinner. I didn’t expect you to come in personally.”

  “My regular chefs are all booked because of the peak season, but I enjoyed the primitive experience for a change. Leave everything as it is. My team will be in tomorrow morning to clean the kitchen.”

  After Izabell had left, Joss took his seat again and carried right on where he’d left off. “Whether it worked or not, I have no doubt Lupien will come for you.”

  “That’s why I’m here, right?”

  His fingers clenched around his fork. “It’s the only way. Lupien won’t stop until he’s found you.”

  “When he finds me, what then?”

  “Hopefully it won’t come to that, but if it does, there’s only one way to keep safe.”

  She took a sip of water to swallow away the dryness of her throat. “How?”

  “Lupien can only steal your art if he corrupts you. He’ll try anything to make you give in. He’ll kill, lie, burn, manipulate, and torture whoever he must. Whatever he does, you can never give in, do you hear me? You can never give in to the darkness he’d make you feel. If you do, he’ll take your art, and the only way for him to take it, is to kill you.”

  “Who’s to say he won’t simply come back again and again, until he can corrupt me?”

  Joss was quiet for a moment.

  She went cold as the realization hit her. “You’re going to fight him.”

  “It’s the only way,” he said again.

  Anger tightened her chest. “You should’ve told me about your intentions.”

  “Why?” His look was level. “It’s not like it would’ve changed anything.”

  She jumped to her feet. “Because of that trust you keep on asking me for.”

  He got up too. “I’m a skilled fighter and an expert on paranormal abilities. So, yeah. Trust me.”

  “This is my life. These decisions aren’t yours alone to make.”

  “There’s no other option.”

  She squared her shoulders. “There is.”

  A muscle ticked in his jaw. “If you think I’d let you fight Lupien, you’re out of your fucking mind.”

  “My life, Joss, my decision.”

  He banged a fist on the table, making the plates rattle. “My responsibility.”

  Her voice raised in volume. “Forced marriage or not, you can’t tell me what to do.”

  Dragging his hands through his hair, he pulled on the roots. “For the love of every god that ever existed.” A moment of silence passed before he dropped his arms at his sides. When he faced her again, he spoke patiently, as if he were talking to a child. “If I don’t do this, we’ll never be free of him. Can you honestly live like that, looking over your shoulder every minute of every day?”

  No, she couldn’t imagine living like that, but she also couldn’t let Joss go into a battle he had little to no chance of winning. “Why? Why are you so set on doing this? Is the team and the mission really worth it?”

  He regarded her quietly. “This one isn’t for the team.”

  “No? Then why?”

  “This one is for you.”

  She blinked. “What?”

  “I’m doing this for you,” he said, taking her hand.

  She pulled away. “Why? You don’t owe me anything.”

  His gaze was piercing. “I disagree.”

  “Because we fucked?” she cried out.

  His smile was faint. “Responsibility.”

  “Damn you, Joss.” She spun away, staring at the window so he wouldn’t see the turmoil on her face as she tried to pull herself together. Her wry laugh masked her anguish. “Marriage? You didn’t have to take it quite that far.”

  “You’re mine, Cle.”

  “For that you have to die?”

  A gentle hand fell on her shoulder. “I’ve already taken too much from you to ask for more, but just give in to me one more time. Give me your trust, Cle.”

  Her heart sank. “You’re asking for the one thing I can’t give you.”

  Gripping her shoulder harder, he turned her back to face him. “Why won’t you at least try?”

  “Trust isn’t given,” she said with sadness. “It’s earned.”

  His gray eyes hardened. Dropping his arm at his side, he turned on his heel and walked from the room.

  Chapter 34

  Even if Clelia wouldn’t trust him, he’d keep her safe. He owed her a chance at life, and more. He owed her his soul for taking away his nightmares. Since that night he’d kidnapped her, he’d never dreamt of his ghosts again. It was as if she’d somehow absolved him.

  Now new dreams invaded his mind, glimpses of a future with things he’d never thought he’d have, like waking up with her face the first thing he saw every morning, and a house filled with the furniture and warmth that would make it a home. Maybe even the cry of a baby. Those dreams had stolen into his spirit when he’d been too busy to notice and rooted there, giving him hope. He wanted that hope more than his old life, even more than his team, and he’d kill to have and hold it. He’d kill for her.

  Marching up the stairs, he flung open the bedroom door and stripped on his way to the shower. Dinner be damned. He needed to cool down. The water was gas-heated, but he turned on the cold tap only and got under the icy spray, letting the freezing cold drops from the high-pressure nozzle needle his skin. After soaping his body and washing his hair, he turned off the water and toweled himself dry. As per habit, he cleaned the bathroom and wiped up the water on the floor with a rag. He was a neat f
reak, but he also didn’t believe in leaving his dirty bathroom for someone else to clean.

  When he stepped back into the room with a towel wrapped around his body, he froze. Clelia lay in the middle of the bed, gloriously naked, the flames of the fires dancing over her pale skin.

  His cock came to attention, tenting the towel. “What are you doing?” he asked in a gruff voice.

  She pushed up on one arm. “If you think only you get to decide when and how we have sex, you better think again.”

  Motherfucking… He couldn’t form a strong enough word for the thought that went off in his head. The things he wanted to do to her… Advancing, he said, “You’re a temptress, know that?”

  “We’re married now.” She shrugged like it didn’t matter. “We may as well enjoy the benefits.”

  Stopping short of the bed, he dragged his greedy gaze over the length of her. So tiny. So tight. So perfect. “You’re too brave for your own good.”

  The vixen had the nerve to taunt him. “I guess you’ll have to swallow your words.”

  He knew exactly which words she referred to. He’d said when she wasn’t his little virgin any longer, she wouldn’t lie in his bed and act brave. Fucking hell.

  He dragged a hand over his wet hair. “It’s too soon.”

  “Are you being a bad loser again?”

  That did it. Dropping the towel, he climbed over her onto the bed. “Want to say that to my face?”

  She sat up, letting her breasts brush his chest. “Are you scared, big, bad Joss de Arradon?”

  He striked out fast, gripping her slender neck in a gentle but firm hold before she could take her next breath. “I guess there’s one way to find out.”

  The words had barely left his lips before she arched closer and pressed their mouths together. The initiative caught him off guard. It wasn’t what he’d expected from his shy little stalker, but fuck him if he was going to be a gentleman about it. If she was sore tomorrow, it would only serve her right. At least she’d think about him every time she took a step.

  Her kiss turned deeper, her tongue seeking his. He groaned when she sucked his lower lip into her mouth. So aggressive. When she slipped her hand down his body and gripped his cock, he lost whatever reason he had left.

  Cupping her fingers to keep them in that hot, hard place, he pushed her down with his hand still folded around her throat. “Fine, witch.” The challenge was on. “Show me what you’ve got.”

  He went for her mouth again, but she pushed him away with her hands on his chest. “No.”

  He stilled. “What?” If she was toying with him—

  “Roll over.”

  “What?” he said, sounding stupid, like a parrot.

  “Roll over, Joss.”

  Roll over. It wasn’t going to be that easy, but he played along just to see what she’d do. Giving her a lazy smile, he lay down on his back and folded his hands behind his head.

  She straddled him on her knees. The sight of her naked body, legs spread over him, wiped the grin clean off his face. He was going to taste every inch of that creamy skin. He was going to grope her everywhere, starting—

  “Uh-uh.” She grabbed his wandering hands and placed them above his head. “Keep them there.”

  Hot, fucking hell. He barely managed. She lowered herself over him. The feeling of her skin against his drove him insane. He gritted his teeth as she kissed his neck and then his chest, sliding her body over his as she moved down. His cock jerked at every touch. It took all the control he could muster and then some not to move.

  Lifting his head, he watched as she licked the skin around his navel, tracing a path down to his balls. A sharp jab of pleasure launched into his spine as she sucked them into her mouth. The groan that tore from his throat sounded primitive. She dragged her warm tongue up his shaft until he was ready to explode.

  “Damn you, Cle,” he said when she scraped her teeth over the crest of his cock.

  He grabbed her hair to stop her lest he come before he’d even penetrated her, but she slid her body back up over his like a supple little snake and cushioned his painfully hard cock between her breasts. He was slick from her tongue, and she easily stroked his shaft between those pretty curves. His mouth went dry at the sight. He clenched his jaw so hard his teeth made a crunching sound.

  “Go slow,” he said, surprisingly managing to utter words.

  Giving him a sultry look, she lifted onto her knees. When she ran a finger through her folds, he nearly choked. This was her show, but his control hung by a thin thread. His eyes flared as she took his cock and pushed the head against her slickness.

  Fuck keeping still. He grabbed her hips, fingers digging into her skin, but she cupped his hands and guided them to her breasts.

  “Slowly, remember?” she said.

  Her nipples hardened under his palms as she lowered herself over his cock, her small body stretching to take him. He tightened his grip on her breasts, sweat beading on his brow as he told himself not to slam up into her. With great effort, he focused on her face. The pleasure etched on her features grounded him. It took inhuman self-control to ignore his body’s demand to take her hard and fast. The only movement he allowed himself was rotating his hips.

  Her lips parted and her head fell back as she moved, taking more of him. Tremors squeezed his cock. He circled her waist to aid her movement until he was buried to the hilt.

  She moaned, arching her back and pushing out her perfect breasts. Air hissed through his teeth when she picked up her pace. The sexy sounds she uttered made him wilder. She panted, moving faster, her breasts bouncing every time their groins slammed together.

  He saw it in her eyes. She was close. She’d kept those pretty dark pools open for him, and they turned hazy now. He pressed his thumb on her clit and anchored her with a hand on her waist while flexing his hips to chase his own release.

  Her moan shattered the room. When she clenched around him, he broke. Hot needles of pleasure pierced his skin as his seed spurted inside her. He clutched her to him with the primal instinct of making her take every last drop. Only when he was dry did he loosen his death grip to let her limp body collapse onto his chest.

  Gripping her hair in a ponytail, he moved it out of her face. “Hey.” He felt uncharacteristically gentle. A need to be tender softened his voice. “How are you doing?”

  Her lips curled around a soft sigh.

  He pulled his semi-hard cock free, inviting a moan when he rolled her onto her back. “Sore?”

  She blinked at him, her eyes still out of focus.

  He crawled down her body. She was glistening with their arousals. His seed was running down her legs. Damn him if it wasn’t the hottest thing he’d seen.

  He licked his finger before carefully slipping it inside. “Tell me if this burns or hurts.”

  Her thighs quivered at the intrusion. “It doesn’t. What are you doing?”

  “Checking that I haven’t torn you.”

  Her cheeks flushed a little. “I can take it.”

  He loved that color on her as much as he loved the huskiness of her voice that said she’d been thoroughly loved. What she’d done was as hot as fuck, but they should’ve waited. “Are you set on proving that?”

  Her tone was all sass. “Haven’t I already?” She added with a saucy smile, “Oh, I’m sorry. Are you bragging about your size?”

  He gripped her ass, squeezing like it belonged to him. “I should bend you over this bed and let you tell me how my size feels.”

  She widened her eyes, mocking him. “Want to do it that position?”

  “Maybe. And then I’ll fuck you on my lap, and in every position imaginable.”

  She closed her eyes, throwing an arm over her forehead, and said in a dry tone, “I can hardly wait.”

  After planting a soft kiss between her legs, he moved back up, switched positions, and draped her over his chest. “Sleep.”

  Intertwining her fingers, she rested her chin on her hands. “I should clean up.�
��

  “I like knowing my cum is running down your legs.”

  She blushed scarlet red.

  He gripped her chin, brushing a thumb over her lips. “It reminds me who you belong to.”

  “You,” she said, her tease gone and her demeanor bitter again, before resting her cheek on his chest.

  He stilled. Bitter or not, that little word was the most perfect thing he’d heard in just about ever. It was a damn sad pity she couldn’t mean it. It sliced a little too deep.

  Chapter 35

  Sometime in the middle of the night, Clelia woke up thirsty. As always, the minute she moved, Joss sat up.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “I’m going to get some water.”

  He uncapped the bottle on his nightstand and handed it to her, kissing her shoulder as she took a sip. He let her finish half of it before he put the water aside, stood, and lifted her in his arms.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “To run us a bath.”

  “Now?”

  He looked at the juncture of her thighs. “You won’t sleep well if you feel sticky, and I’m not cruel enough to deprive you of your sleep all night.”

  The mention of that again made blood rush to her neck. She wasn’t shy about what they’d done, only about how he saw it, like a mark of possession.

  He chuckled and kissed her. “Get used to it. I like the evidence of our fucking between your legs.”

  Instead of angering her, the crude words heated her stomach.

  He lowered her onto the bench and opened the tap.

  Watching his back, she said carefully, “We haven’t used a condom.”

  He looked at her from over his shoulder, his face pulled into an expression of surprise. “No, we haven’t.”

  Surprise that she’d brought it up or that, consumed with heat, they’d forgotten something so fundamental? She brushed her foot over the bath rug, avoiding his intense gaze. “My periods aren’t regular.”

  He turned away from her to pour bath salt under the running water. A smell of lavender infused the room. “Will it bother you if you fall pregnant?”

  He said it like the words carried no weight. Taken aback, she stared at the broad expanse of his shoulders and the tapered masculine waist. After the way his father had made him suffer, she’d assumed Joss would be skeptical about children.