Scapulimancist (Seven Forbidden Arts Book 7)

by Charmaine Pauls

  He wiped a hand over his eyes, expelling the image and ignoring the house and the feelings that assaulted him as he mounted the steps and knocked.

  Thinus opened the door. His face was still swollen. He had a Botox upper lip and a cabbage rugby ear.

  “Come in,” he said smugly.

  Not good.

  Wayne pushed past without sparing him a glance. He tried not to look at the fancy paintings on the walls and the expensive carpets on the floors.

  “He wants to see you in the study,” Thinus said at his back.

  Having been in the house two or three times before, he knew his way around. Through the open kitchen door, he saw Emily Theron, Clive’s wife. The smell of lamb roast and baked potatoes filled the air.

  He lifted his hat. “Mrs. Theron.”

  “Stay for lunch, Wayne.”

  He smiled curtly, even if he had no such intention.

  Thinus overtook him in the hallway, pushing the door of the study open. “He’s here, Pa.”

  “Come in, West.” Clive sat behind a big mahogany desk, papers spread out in front of him. “Close the door, Thinus.”

  Thinus obeyed and stepped to the side, his thumbs hooked into his belt. A faint smile played on his lips. He shifted his weight as if he was getting comfortable for a show.

  “I meant shut the door with you on the other side of it, you idiot,” Clive said.

  Thinus went rigid. His shoulders pulled back. The smile disappeared, replaced by a slight flare of his nostrils and a thinning of his eyes.

  “Are you deaf and dumb?” Clive asked.

  “No, Pa.” Thinus dropped his head and left the room.

  Clive rolled his eyes up at the ceiling. He leaned back in the chair and crossed his hands on his stomach. “There’s no knowing what mischief to expect next with that one.” He rode the chair, balancing on the back legs. “Same for his cousin.”

  “Mischief?” Bella and Sara hadn’t spelled things out but they didn’t have to. Thinus’s belt had been undone, which meant only one thing. “They almost raped two women. I wouldn’t have stood by and let it happen.”

  “In all fairness, one is a whore and the other is SAN.”

  “Makes no difference. A woman is a woman.”

  “Except black women. They’re not human.”

  His vision went red. Spots popped in front of his eyes. He knew what this was—bait to lose his temper. He pushed his nails into his palms, feeling the bite on his skin.

  Clive waited. When Wayne didn’t respond, he made a face, his brow lifted and his mouth pulled down, as if to say, ‘Never mind’.

  “You wanted to see me because…?” The sooner he could get out of here, the better.

  “I thought you had the woman under control.”

  “I do. Thinus and Nelis stepped out of line. Keep your boys in check, and I’ll meet my end of the bargain.”

  “How are you proposing to do that?”

  “She’s only here to establish the status of the elephants. As soon as she’s got a headcount, she’ll leave. I’m taking her into the forest on Monday. I reckon she’ll be gone by Friday.”

  “I heard she wants to give your land to the Xhosas.” His beady eyes were perceptive, watching like a crow. “Ain’t nothing a man can do against government. Looks like your land’s all gone.”

  Not yet, you sick son of a bitch, he wanted to say, but he held his tongue.

  The door opened. It was held by a Xhosa woman in a housekeeper’s uniform while Emily entered with a tray. For a second, his eyes locked with the black woman’s. Zandi, Mariana’s sister. He stiffened. Many emotions washed over her face, but it was the bitterness in her eyes that outweighed and lasted. He should acknowledge her, should say something, but before he could utter a greeting, she was gone.

  “Coffee and rusks,” Emily said, putting the tray on the desk.

  “Leave it on the garden table,” Clive said. “West can have a cup outside before he goes.”

  Emily’s lips parted in shock. She stared at her husband with a look that bordered on embarrassment, and then she lowered her gaze. She wiped her palms on her skirt and lifted the tray. “It’s true that it’s a lovely day. Beautiful outside.” She skittered past Wayne, her cheeks red. He had to open the door for her since she had her hands full, but she avoided his eyes, keeping hers trained on the carpet.

  The blow was low. Zandi, the lowest in the hierarchy of staff, would be allowed her coffee in the kitchen. Only the migrant workers drank and ate outside. He pursed his lips. It was Clive’s way of ensuring he understood his place, who was in charge, and on whose property he stood.

  Through the open doorway, he spotted Thinus, leaning on the wall in the hallway. The coward had a smirk on his face.

  “You’ll have to cancel chasing elephants with the SAN woman,” Clive said.

  “You gave me unpaid leave for all of next week. I thought you wanted her gone.”

  “Something more urgent came up.”

  More urgent than driving the parks board away? “Like what?”

  Clive pushed back his chair and got to his feet. “A group of hunters are coming in on Monday. I need you to spoor for them.”

  He went cold. A hunter has never set foot on his farm. If culling had to be done, he’d shoot a buck or two for the pot, but only for food. Clive knew damn well he didn’t support hunting.

  “Samara Lodge is looking for Kudu bulls. The farms in the Groot Karoo have a shortage of cows. I heard they pay well.”

  “Not as well as Canadian hunters. They pay in dollars.”

  He clenched his fists. “What are they hunting?”

  “Buck and lion.”

  “Lion?” He almost swallowed the word. He hand-raised those cubs with his dad when they came to the farm as orphans. “You only have four.”

  “Now I’ll have three. They’re willing to pay fifty thousand for a lion head.”

  “It’s not worth it, Clive, not for all the money in the world.”

  Clive rounded his desk. “Are you telling me what to do with my property or how to run my farm?”

  He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t. “One lion and three lionesses. What if they take out the male?”

  “That’s why I’m hiring you. You’re going to make sure they hit a lioness.”

  “No.” His body shook. “I won’t fucking can a lion.”

  “I’m not asking, West,” Clive said, bringing their faces close. “See it as part of your job. If you don’t do it, consider yourself fired, and I won’t lay off the SAN Jezebel with the tight ass who’s got your dick twisted around her little finger.”

  There were various reasons why he could strangle Clive. First, for forcing him into driving a defenseless lion into a camp so an idiot of a hunter with a small dick syndrome could boast about killing her when she was trapped and he had a gun. Secondly, he insulted Sara by calling her a Jezebel, and thirdly, he threatened that ‘Jezebel’. It was for the third reason that he forced himself to remain calm. The last thing he needed was Clive setting his men loose on Sara.

  “Many accidents happen in the forest,” Clive said. “It’s a dangerous place for a woman alone, don’t you think?”

  “She’ll leave,” he said through clenched teeth. “I told you I’d see to it.”

  “I believe you,” Clive said. “You’ll find a way of convincing her and doing your job.” He picked up a set of keys and threw it at him. Wayne caught them in midair. “The keys for the shepherd’s hut. You can stay there next week, until the hunting’s done.”

  “I’d rather drive in.”

  “Suit yourself, but you’ll have to be up long before dawn if you’re going to set out from here at five.”

  “It’s not hunting season. Too many calves. The grass is long.”

  “I don’t have to explain myself to you. Coffee’s outside. Go before it gets cold. I’ll see you Monday afternoon. Their flight arrives in the morning, and they’ll want their first game drive after they’ve freshened up.”


  Wayne knew when he was dismissed. Walking from Clive’s office, his footsteps sounded hollow on the fancy wood of the floor. Not even Thinus’s grin was enough to tip him over to the angry side of the scale. The devastation he felt was too heavy.

  He tipped his hat as he passed the kitchen. “Thank you for the coffee, Mrs. Theron.”

  He got into his truck and took off, not stopping until he’d cleared the property gates. There he parked to gather himself. He got out and slammed the door, resting his hands on his hips. He grew up with those lion cubs, saw them grow big and strong, watched them become powerful and majestic. Canning was a lucrative and cruel business. He couldn’t pick one of the females, separate her from the pack, and lure her into a tiny fenced camp, trapped and helpless, to be shot down in the dust. He couldn’t humiliate her like that, degrade the graceful predator to nothing more than a stuffed trophy on some rich fucker’s wall. Fuck!

  He kicked a stone and sent it flying through the air. Fuck Clive to hell and back. If it weren’t for Sara, he’d strangle Clive with his bare hands, but Clive had many men on his side, men stronger and cleverer than Thinus, and he couldn’t think what they’d do to her. His hollow laugh echoed through the valley. He tended to forget how snide and intelligent Clive was. His revenge for what had happened with Thinus was perfect. It was Clive’s way of putting Wayne back in place. He’d used what Wayne loved best after Mariana’s death against him—his love for the land and the game. His woman, his land, his animals, his freedom, and his dignity—he’d lost everything. He never thought there was more to lose, until Sara. Now, because he cared, because he felt something for a woman he wasn’t supposed to, a lion had to be canned.

  Straightening, he took a breath of the air, smelling the sea and the distinct odor of the fynbos that marked the barrier between this side and the back of the mountain. This side was where he belonged. The lions, too. But life carried on. The living had to survive. Steel encompassed his heart, and ice frosted over his soul. He hung his head. God forgive him.

  A man had to do what a man had to do.

  Chapter Nine

  The knocking turned persistent. Sara draped a robe around her wet body and hurried to the door. The owl hooted once. A quick glance through the window confirmed it was Wayne breaking down her door.

  She opened it wide. “What’s going on?”

  “Your Jeep’s outside, but you didn’t open.” His eyes ran over her. “I got worried.”

  “I was in the shower.”

  “Sorry.” He walked past her. “Can I come in?”

  “You’re in, already.”

  “May I?” He motioned at the sofa.

  “Be my guest.”

  The look on his face made her feel uneasy. She sat down on the edge of the coffee table, facing him. “What’s wrong?”

  “I can’t go into the forest with you tomorrow.”

  Her spirit sunk. She’d bargained on those four days to talk sense into him. “What’s the matter?”

  “Work.” He looked away from her. “I can’t get time off.”

  “Oh.” From his reaction, she’d expected worse. “I can find my way around.”

  “Sara,” he looked back at her with a plea in his eyes, “don’t do it alone. Please. It’s too easy to get lost in there. Too vast. No cell phone reception. Wild animals. I’ve seen people venture in there and never come back. Their bodies have never been found. The forest is too dense for an aerial view.”

  “Stop worrying. I’m not the city slicker you take me for. I grew up on a farm. I know how to track and read a compass.”

  “Wait for me. I’ll come with you in another week’s time.”

  “I’m a big girl, Wayne.”

  “I know.” He rested his hands on her knees and hung his head. “I know.”

  Why was he so upset about her going alone? “Wayne, talk to me. What’s really going on?”

  His expression was closed off. “Clive is bringing in hunters. I’m tracking for them next week. They want to kill a lion.”

  Her breath caught. “No! Just say no. You don’t have to do it.”

  “I don’t have a choice.” He regarded her with a pained look, his face tense.

  “Why? What kind of hold does he have on you?”

  “Doesn’t matter.” His jaw clenched. “It has to be done. Besides, if I don’t do it, somebody else will, and I don’t trust anyone as much as I trust myself.” His gaze became forlorn. “I raised those cubs. They’re like family to me, even now, even as they belong to Clive Theron.”

  “Oh, Wayne.” It was horrible. How could Clive be so cruel?

  She drew her fingers through the thick strands of his hair, smoothing the rebellious curls at the top of his ears. He closed his eyes, tilted his head a fraction, and pressed into the touch. With gentle pressure, she ran her fingertips over his scalp, over and over, feeling the tension ease from him with every caress.

  His breathing changed. His rough, scarred hands cupped her knees, the calloused skin grating over her softer flesh. Intentions flipped like the spin of a coin, changing the beat of her heart and the rhythm of her pulse.

  His palms made a soft, grating noise as they rubbed up her legs, parting the silk robe and her thighs. Naked underneath, she was exposed to him. His eyes fixed on the triangle between her legs. It was a part he’d already seen and tasted, but he stared at it as if laying eyes on her for the first time. He watched the path of his hands with intense concentration as they moved higher, up over her thighs and stomach, slipping into the opening of the gown. His hands trailed over her ribs and the sides of her breasts, pushing the robe from her shoulders. It landed in a pool of white silk behind her on the table.

  His journey continued over her shoulders and down her arms. “Sara…”

  Fastening his fingers on her hips, he jerked her forward and went down on his knees. The look in his eyes had shifted. The pools of charcoal darkened to crackling granite. Another yank and her ass hung over the edge of the table. One hand held on to her hip while the other pushed her upper body down gently until her back hit the hard wood.

  He trailed kisses from her knee up her thigh, until his lips found their target. She arched her back, calling out his name. He took her into his mouth with a groan, like he couldn’t wait longer. She strained her neck to look down at him, to witness the erotic sight of him closing his eyes and rubbing his stubble over her sensitive folds and clit.

  “Sara. Sara. Sara.”

  He bit into her flesh gently, following it up with a kiss. His tongue teased her opening, making her wet and hot, until she couldn’t hold her head up any longer and had to lie down and simply give over.

  His hands ran over her abdomen, flattening on her stomach. They trailed over her upper body and her breasts. He held onto them possessively, catching her nipples between his fingers. There was something protective and sweet, yet primal, in the touch. She wanted to belong to him, not only in the moment, but forever. She wanted this touch to stretch beyond land and borders, beyond her job and his past.

  “I want it to be you,” she whispered.

  He groaned. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

  “Is it always like this?”

  “How?”

  “This intense?”

  “Goddammit, Sara. You know the answer.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Only with you.”

  He nipped at her clit, a gentle bite that had her arch her hips. She sat up, pushing on his shoulders.

  “What’s wrong, angel?”

  “Take off your clothes. I want to come with you.”

  She expected him to argue, but he got to his feet and stripped naked. He was perfect in every dimension. His body was lean, sharply defined, and tanned dark. Personally, she’d always liked guys with piercings and tattoos, but Wayne was uncompromisingly beautiful in his untouched masculinity.

  He sat down on the sofa and pulled her onto his lap to straddle him. With an unhurried pace, he claimed her lips, invad
ing the depths of her mouth, and tracing the outline with his tongue. She tasted herself on him, a mixture of soapy body wash and arousal. Slowly, he eased himself down on his back.

  “I want to come with you, too,” he said. “Put your thighs over my mouth.” He turned her, adjusting her legs as he laid back. “Take my cock in your mouth.”

  Her inner muscles clenched when his tongue played over her clit. She felt exposed, but it felt right. When she licked over the broad head of his erection and stretched her lips around him, his groan vibrated on her pubic bone. Pleasure. She wanted to give him so much pleasure. His tongue speared her, not deep enough to penetrate, but enough to make her desire climb and her labia pulse in need.

  Muscles rippled under her body as she dragged her breasts over his stomach, causing him to curse and groan loudly. With both hands wrapped around the base of his erection, she took what she could in her mouth and moved to a rhythm that matched her own need. Pins and needles penetrated her clit. Her muscles started coiling.

  “Wait for me,” he said, echoing his earlier words. “Wait for me, angel.”

  “Can’t… Ah, Wayne.”

  His hand shifted from her ass cheek to his cock, his fingers folding around hers around the base. He pumped a few times, pushing his hips up, making her take more. From the strangled groan he uttered she knew he was close.

  “Come now,” he said, his voice hoarse.

  She let go, coming undone in his mouth and his hands. Her orgasm tied her muscles together, an invisible fist keeping the tension in her abdomen knotted while shockwaves rippled from the center out, exploding in every nerve ending on her body.

  He came with a jerk, releasing jets of semen in her mouth. He tasted like earth and mountain and morning and everything she loved. She swallowed down his essence, willing herself to drink in his very spirit. Harsh male cries and ragged breathing filled her head. The warmth in her body was as much as from the satisfaction of pleasing him as from the afterglow of her orgasm. The feeling they shared was precious.

  She collapsed on his body; her head cushioned on his groin, and trailed her fingers over the dark triangle of hair.