Chiromancist (Seven Forbidden Arts Book 8)

by Charmaine Pauls

  Bono snatched up the brochure, scrunching the paper up in his fist. “What’s the meaning of this?”

  “The government is busy with a cover-up operation, hiding the existence of paranormals. They’re keeping us in the dark, just like the church did in the first Dark Age. This is the beginning of the second age of darkness. Join Medusa now if you want to be part of the enlightened generation.”

  Three men came rushing up to them, two in black suits and a third sporting a fashionable velvet jacket. The men with the suits grabbed the woman’s arms. She struggled for all she was worth, screaming at the top of her lungs.

  “Get her out of here,” the man with the velvet jacket said under his breath.

  “Join us to be saved,” the woman shouted from over her shoulder as they dragged her toward the exit. “Look for our symbol outside and you’ll find your way.”

  Guests turned in their seats to watch the commotion as the woman kicked in her heels and tried to break free. At the door, she managed to step on the foot of one of the men, who let go as he momentarily lost his balance. Using the opportunity of having her arm free, the woman dug a handful of leaflets from her bag and scattered them into the crowd. By that time, more help had arrived, and the Medusa woman was once more restrained and marched outside.

  The man who’d bossed the guards around offered Bono a hand in greeting. “Bono, I’m sorry. I tried to catch her before she made it over to you. The city is crawling with damn lunatic evangelists who believe it’s their life mission to convert my clientele.”

  “No worries.” Bono shook the other man’s hand. “Has it happened before?”

  “More often than I like. Anyway, un-pleasantries aside, how are you? I hope you’re happy with your table.”

  “I’m good, and thanks for giving us a prime spot on short notice. It was an impulsive decision, or I would’ve booked.” He turned to Sky. “This is Miss Val.”

  “Clinton Melk.” He took her hand and kissed her fingers. “An absolute pleasure.” His eyes were friendly until they fell on the tattoo showing from under the neckline of her top. For the briefest of seconds, his hand tightened around hers, but then he put a mask in place and dropped her fingers. “Champagne on the house to apologize for the dreadful disruption?”

  “Thanks,” Bono said, “but we’re good.” He got to his feet. “Would you mind keeping Miss Val company while I visit the gents?”

  “Of course not.”

  “I don’t need babysitting,” Sky retorted.

  Bono only kissed the top of her head and said, “I’ll be right back.”

  When he disappeared in the direction of the rest rooms, Clinton sat down next to her on the bench. His eyes assessed her. “How did you and Bono meet?”

  Clinton was obviously a clever guy who knew this town. There was no point in running circles around the truth. “Do you mean how or where?”

  “Oh, I know where. I’m just wondering what Doumar’s girl is doing with my friend.”

  “I’m not Doumar’s girl.”

  He motioned at her tattoo. “Aren’t you?”

  “I’m his slave. There’s a difference.”

  “I don’t want trouble. I think you should go.”

  “Fine.” She left her glass on the table and pushed to her feet. “I won’t overstay my welcome.”

  He gave her a level look. “Bono is a good friend.”

  “You’re lucky. Tell him I say goodbye.”

  As she scooted past him, he grabbed her wrist. “Can I get you a cab or call someone from the club to get you?”

  “No, thanks. I know my way home.”

  About to turn, she spotted Bono making his way over to them. His eye landed on Clinton’s fingers still wrapped around her wrist, and his expression turned thunderous.

  “What’s going on?” he asked, stopping next to them. “Why is your hand on her, Clinton?”

  Clinton let go of her. “We were just saying goodbye.”

  Bono narrowed his eyes at her. “Where are you going?”

  “Home,” Sky said. “It’s been a long day.”

  “Clinton,” Bono said without taking his eyes off her, “can you please give us a moment?”

  “Sure.” He got to his feet and patted Bono on the shoulder. “Stick around. The DJ’s good.” Without another glance in her direction, he went upstairs and disappeared into one of the private rooms.

  “Don’t ever run out on me,” Bono said. “It’s pointless. I will always come after you. Now, tell me why you’re running.”

  “I’m not running.” It was too exhausting to explain. A girl like her would never be welcome in his world. People will always know where she belonged. The tattoo had branded her for what she was, with a destiny she couldn’t escape.

  He lowered his head to put their eyes on level. “Sky.”

  “Let it go.”

  “What did Clinton say to you?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It does to me.”

  “Let’s just go. Please.”

  “Come.” He took her hand and dragged her behind him up the stairs.

  “Where are you going?”

  He opened the first office door without knocking and walked inside. Clinton, who sat on a sofa facing a flat screen with what looked like a security broadcast, looked up in surprise.

  “She’s with me,” Bono said. “If she’s not welcome, neither am I.”

  “The point is,” Clinton said calmly, “she’s not with you. She’s with Doumar.”

  “Not now, she’s not.” He turned on his heel, pulling her along.

  “Don’t be a fool, Bono,” Clinton called after them.

  Bono stopped in the door to face Clinton again. “I took you for a friend.”

  “I am your friend, but it’s not you who concerns me.” He nodded at Sky. “It’s her I’m worried about.”

  Bono’s fingers squeezed around hers. “Explain yourself.”

  “Doumar isn’t the kind of man who gives up his property. He’d destroy it before he’d see it go to another man.” He gave Bono a hard look. “You’re going to get her hurt or killed.”

  “Thanks for the VIP table.” Bono didn’t wait for Clinton to reply. He led her outside and requested that his bike be brought around.

  “Is it true?” he asked while they waited.

  “Is what true?”

  “That Doumar will rather see you dead before he’d let you go.”

  “Doumar will never give up the money. He earns too much with me.”

  “What if I give him the money you’d earn?”

  She gaped at him. “That’s a lot of cash.”

  “I know.”

  “Then you’ll be no better than him. You’ll buy me just like Doumar did. The only difference will be the price.”

  He gripped her shoulders. “Yes, there will be a difference, and it’s not in the price. It’s your freedom I’ll buy, not your talent or body.”

  “You’ll really set me free?”

  “Of course. It doesn’t mean I’ll stop chasing you. I can be a very persistent man if I want something—or someone—bad enough.”

  The idea was lovely, but Doumar was way too greedy to honor such a proposal. He’d take Bono’s money and never deliver her. “It won’t work.”

  “He doesn’t love you, he’s not your lover, but he won’t let you be with someone else?”

  Doumar wasn’t her lover, but he was so much more. He was her owner and the father of her child, a child who could lose his life if she said or did anything wrong. She looked away.

  He shook her lightly. “Why? Tell me the truth. If he only keeps you because he can, he’s a coward, not a man.”

  “No, Doumar is not a man. He’s a boy, a very selfish, immature boy. He doesn’t want his old toy, but he doesn’t want anyone else to have it, either.”

  “I can be persuasive.”

  She went on tiptoes and pressed her lips lightly against his. “Shh. Don’t. I don’t want to end the night with t
alk of Doumar.”

  The valet arrived with Bono’s bike and handed them the helmets. She got on and nestled against his back, memorizing every sensory impression to store away in her heart for later when she’d hate herself for what she had to do to him.

  At her exit, he took the opposite direction, driving them to a fancy hotel in the upmarket part of town. Looking up at the raw brick façade, Sky swallowed down her disappointment. If Bono meant to make her a cliché, he’d succeeded. Dinner, dancing, and then the hotel… She knew what came next.

  Chapter Seven

  “Everything all right?” Bono asked, taking the helmet from Sky.

  She freed her ponytail from the elastic band and shook out her hair. “Perfect.”

  Taking her hand, he led her inside and requested a room. After signing the necessary documents, they took the lift to the top floor where he swiped a card at the first door and let her inside. The room was spacious with a view of the city below. She walked to the big window to peer down. She’d never seen this side of town from up high.

  If he was going to treat her like a prostitute or a trophy date, she wanted him to admit it. She wouldn’t let him get away with pretending this was anything other than money for sex. Instead of cash, the currency was champagne and a fancy dinner. More than anything, she wanted to believe he was like all other men. It would make her betrayal easier.

  Turning her back on the view, she faced him squarely. “What now?”

  He didn’t falter under her level stare. Peeling off his jacket, he advanced on her. “Why don’t we start by you telling me what you think is going to happen now?”

  She stole a glance over his shoulder at the king size bed. “Let’s see.” She held up a hand and counted off on her fingers. “A fancy dinner, expensive drinks, and a high-end hotel equals … let me think … sex?”

  “Tsk, tsk. You’ve got to learn to trust me, beautiful.”

  She motioned around the room. “Why? Isn’t this part of the usual?”

  His gaze fixed on her lips while amusement lit up his expression. “That smart mouth of yours is going to land you in some seriously hot oil, one day. For the record, champagne is my usual. Dating is not. You’re the first woman I ever took with me to Melk or anywhere for that matter.”

  She gaped at him, feeling off-balance. “You’ve never been on a date?”

  “I have.” He cupped her face. “Tonight.”

  “You mean us?” She motioned between them.

  “Yes, beautiful. Us. You’re my first date.”

  “Surely, a man like you has … been around.”

  “If you mean like in sex, it’s usually a one-night stand for me.”

  “If you don’t take women out, then how…?”

  “I said I’ve never dated, not that I never go out for a good time. I like to party, as you must’ve deduced from me being a regular at Melk. Picking up girls is not why I go there, though. I don’t go looking. If it happens, it happens.”

  “It must’ve happened a lot.”

  He wrapped his arms around her. “Some. Jealous?”

  Loosening his grip, she sidestepped the embrace. “Despite what you think of me, I—”

  “Goddamn, woman. You’ve got to stop putting thoughts in my head. I think nothing of you.”

  It was her turn to be amused. “Nothing?”

  He dragged his hands over his head. “You know what I mean. I don’t think you’re a prostitute, and even if you were, so what?”

  “It’s just that…”

  “What?”

  “You’re confusing, and I’ve never…”

  “Never what?” he asked, frustration bleeding into his voice.

  “Never been with anyone but Doumar.”

  His expression went through a kaleidoscope of shock, surprise, and then understanding. “Hold on. You still think I brought you here for sex?”

  “Didn’t you?”

  He ran his hands down her arms, causing a delicious shiver to run over her body. “I’d never bring you to a hotel for sex, not unless you ask me to.”

  “Then why are we here?”

  “So you can have a bath.”

  “A bath? If you think I’m dirty—”

  He cupped his palm over her mouth. “Shh. Damn, it’s going to be a tougher job working for your trust than I thought. This is about you soaking in bubbles.”

  As his meaning registered, her tense jaw relaxed. “I’m sorry,” she said when he removed his hand, averting her eyes. “I just thought…”

  “Enough with the thinking. Sit your cute butt over there on that chair while I run you a bath. Help yourself to a drink from the minibar if you like.”

  When he disappeared into the adjoining bathroom, she took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to expel some of her suppressed tension. Bono was a contradiction of everything she knew. He was too kind, too gentle, and too trusting. Didn’t he know how dangerous she was? Everything inside of her screamed to run, to save the caring man in the bathroom from the ugly treachery she was committing. The only thing that gave her enough courage not to walk out of the room was the thought of her son. She took a can of soda from the minibar and drank deeply. The sugar would help to settle her nerves.

  With thoughts of Niels’s sweet face, she inhaled another few times to calm herself and entered the bathroom. Bono was bent over the bath, emptying a bottle of hotel bubble bath under the running tap. Lavender scented vapor filled the room. The sound of running water was soothing.

  When the tub was full, he rolled up his sleeve and tested the water. “There you go.” He rummaged through the shelves, gathering towels and a candle. When the towels were arranged to his liking and the candle lit, he gave her a smile. “All yours.”

  As he pushed past her through the door, she took his hand. “Aren’t you staying?”

  He cupped the nape of her neck and ran a thumb under her hairline. Trapped in the doorframe, her body was pushed up against his. Heat gathered between her thighs, and her nipples tingled with erect excitement. The feeling caught her by surprise. She’d never been turned on for a man. His hard-on pressed against her stomach, reassuring her that he wasn’t unaffected.

  “You can join me.” Her hand moved between their bodies to cup his crotch, caressing his impressive length. “I won’t mind.”

  “This isn’t about me.” He removed her hand from his cock and planted a kiss on the inside of her palm. “This is about you.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Why the hell was she disappointed? First, she was upset when she believed he brought her here to fuck her, and now she was disappointed that he wasn’t going to fuck her. Bono was messing with her head. She had to be careful, or he’d get under her skin.

  He gave her a chaste kiss. “I’m next door if you need anything.”

  He closed the door behind him, giving her privacy. Sky stripped naked and lowered herself into the warm water. She groaned out loud with pleasure as the soothing heat enveloped her. She loved swimming, but she hadn’t seen the inside of a pool since she’d been with Doumar. Leaning her head on the rolled towel Bono had left on the edge of the tub, she closed her eyes in bliss. There hadn’t been a bath in her grandparents’s house. One day, when Niels and she were free, she would get them a home with a big bathroom, big enough to fit a corner tub, and she would run a bath with yellow plastic ducks and the fizzy bath balls she’d seen at Lush for Niels every day.

  She was almost dozing off when a knock on the door jerked her back to an alert state.

  “Are you covered?” Bono asked.

  She scooped some of the bubbles over her private parts and called, “You can come in.”

  Bono entered with a glass of wine, which he left on the side of the bath. “Something to help you relax.”

  “Wait,” she said when he turned to leave. “Why are you doing this? If not for sex, why are you being kind to me?”

  “You deserve kindness.”

  “Is it because you feel sorry for me
?”

  “I don’t feel sorry for you.”

  “Then why? I have a right to know.”

  For a moment, there was silence as he considered his answer. “You’re mine. It’s natural that I want to comfort and please you.”

  What a strange man he was. “Yours? When did this happen? I thought you were still chasing me hard.”

  “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to the sound of it, just like you’ll learn to trust and love me.”

  “You’re very certain of yourself.”

  His smile was dashing. “Optimistic is more the word I’d go for.”

  “I’m not a good person, Bono. You shouldn’t trust me.”

  “Oh, but I do. On the contrary, I know you’re good.”

  “Clinton was right. You’re a fool.”

  He walked back to the tub, stopping at the side. “I’m only a fool when it comes to you.”

  “You’ll regret it.”

  He went down on his knees on the rug. “The only thing I’d regret, is not trying.”

  She wanted to ask trying for what, but he was dipping a washcloth in the water and lathering it with soap. Her throat went dry as he trailed it over the curve of her shoulder and down the length of her arm. Words dried up between them when he reversed the path, this time running the cloth between her breasts and over the swell of her stomach. Only their eyes communicated their feelings. Gone were all thoughts of fear, betrayal, and guilt. Nothing existed but the gentle wipe of his fingers following the path of the cloth down the side of her hip and thigh. Somewhere between her foot and calf, he dropped the cloth and his control. Lust heated his gaze as his palm flattened on her leg and moved up her inner thigh. Holding her eyes, he brushed his fingers over her mound up to her chest, circling each breast before moving down to her navel. Her lips parted on a gasp. When his hand moved lower, a pulsing ache settled between her legs. Desire made her knees weak. She trapped his hand between her thighs in an effort to both still his movements and keep him from abandoning the caress. A small tremor shook her legs as he ran the tip of his forefinger over her folds, barely touching her. The rough pad skimmed over her clit, a slight contact that had her lift her hips in search of more.