Pyromancist

by Charmaine Pauls

  “I like what you’re wearing.”

  “Of course you do. You bought it. I meant...” She bit her lip. “What turns you on?”

  “You.”

  “Josselin, I really want to know.”

  “Why? Each woman has her own taste. You shouldn’t change that to please a man.”

  “For a mean, muscled investigator, you’re so dumb.” She wiggled her toes under the blankets. “Every woman wants to please her man.”

  His heart leapt at the insinuation that he was her man.

  “Careful with your insults,” he said with a smile. “I may decide to pull you over my knee for that.”

  He saw her eyes widen, and he chuckled. “I’ll never hurt you, Cle. I promise, when I lay my hands on you, the only thing you’ll experience will be pleasure.”

  “And I can’t wait.”

  “You’re too brave for your own good. It’s only because you know I made a promise not to touch you. For now. The day will come that you won’t be my little virgin witch any longer, and then you won’t lie in my bed and act so brave.”

  She smiled at him with that feminine confidence a woman had when she knew she was desired, when she knew she had the power to bring a man to his knees, and he gulped. He couldn’t wait to teach her how to love him. He could hardly wait to love her the way a man on his knees would love a woman.

  “Go to sleep,” he said, pulling his T-shirt over his head.

  She watched him undress, followed his actions with her eyes, and even that was a caress in its own right, one he suddenly found himself fighting, so that he had to get into bed still in his underwear and turn out the light.

  She rolled onto her side and curled up against his body, taking several seconds to make a comfortable nest for herself. He felt her sigh, her breath warm on his chest, and he got a glimpse of how a normal, loving life with a woman could be.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Clelia had the dream again. This time, it wasn’t Josselin who climbed from the helicopter. It was someone else. She couldn’t see his face, but it was familiar. It was like a word on the tip of her tongue that she just couldn’t grasp. There was the terrible urge to run, but she couldn’t. She was cemented to the spot. As the man reached for her, she knew there was no escape.

  She gasped and shot upright in the bed.

  “Cle, what is it?” Josselin said, sitting up.

  She heard Josselin’s voice and felt his hand on her shoulder. For a moment, she thought that Josselin had been a dream again, that he never came, and that the real nightmare was only to begin.

  She wiped a hand over her face. Josselin reached for her and kissed her fingers.

  “You’re trembling. What happened?”

  “The dream,” she whispered, “it’s started again.”

  “Come here.” He pulled her back down with him and wrapped his arms around her. “You’re safe. It was just a dream.”

  Even as he said it, she recognized the lie in his words. They both knew it was something more.

  She hid her face in his neck. “What if it starts again? What if I sleepwalk like I did before you came?”

  “If I have to, I’ll handcuff you to me, and to the bed, too,” he said with a hint of a smile in his voice, stroking her hair. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  She heard the promise in his voice too, and Clelia feared the depth of its meaning. Josselin would put his life on the line for her. She knew it. She closed her eyes and prayed that it would never come to that.

  * * * *

  Two hours later, Josselin woke her gently and urged her to get ready. He had already showered and dressed. After a breakfast of croissants and coffee in the square, the same driver from the day before drove them to the station.

  Clelia wasn’t ignorant. She noticed how Josselin scanned the crowd, looking for suspicious individuals that could mean them harm. Suddenly, she missed her old life, the one where she went about freely without fear, without thinking of anything but getting to work on time, taking care of her animals, and preparing Erwan’s dinner. Somehow she knew she could never go back there, as little as she could go back to her innocence before Josselin had kissed her and his touch had ripened her body for the sexual bonding that was to come.

  They got into first class and Josselin moved her against the window, placing his body like a barrier in the aisle seat.

  “I’m sorry we can’t fly. I’ve given Bono leave for the time that I took my sabbatical. All the commercial flights were full.”

  “I don’t mind, Josselin. It gives me more time to sit next to you and enjoy your presence.”

  He smiled at her.

  “Thank you for coming for me.”

  “Shhh.” He kissed her gently.

  * * * *

  She had fallen asleep. Josselin woke her when the train stopped in Vannes. He had a rental car waiting at the station. Clelia felt overwhelmed with nostalgia at being so close to home. She had missed it. Terribly. She glanced up at Josselin when he helped her into the car, but what she saw in his face were only the lines of concern hardening his eyes and his mouth.

  It would have taken them only fifteen minutes to drive to Larmor-Baden, but instead, Josselin 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.”

  “You think it’s not safe?”

  “I’m not taking any chances. You’re not ready. Not yet.”

  Clelia didn’t ask what she wasn’t ready for because she knew the answer. She wasn’t ready to face Lupien. Her skin broke out in goose bumps.

  They drove in silence until a lake came into view. It was a cold winter’s day and fog hung over the water. The treetops of the surrounding forest protruded above the bank of mist, painting a green layer across the gray landscape.

  Josselin’s eyes looked just like the metallic sky–cloudy and cold. His hair was tied back, highlighting his high cheekbones and square jaw. A white strand of hair had escaped the leather string that held his hair together, brushing over his cheek. A muscle in his temple twitched. Through the fabric of his coat stretching over his upper arms, Clelia could see his muscles flexing. He was wary.

  As they neared the lake, a dirt track cut from the main road into the forest. When he slowed and took the exit, Clelia suddenly understood Josselin’s preoccupation. She knew why he was tense as their destination became clear to her. They were heading toward the Arradon castle, the heritage Josselin so fiercely denied.

  The road became bumpy as they rounded the lake and drove deeper into the forest.

  Josselin put his hand over hers. “Sorry for the uncomfortable ride. The road isn’t well maintained.”

  He immediately withdrew his hand to grip the steering wheel again when they almost hit a pothole. Another few seconds later, the castle came into view. It wasn’t visible from the road because a cluster of dense trees that bordered a natural bay sheltered it. The water washed up on an ash-colored beach. Everything was gunmetal gray, except for the evergreen forest and grassland.

  Against the bleak sky stood a silver castle with square towers on either end and a steeped A-line roof over the central part. It once had to have had a glorious garden that extended onto the shore, but now all that was left was a dry fountain, a garden gazebo that had become a pigeon shelter and a dilapidated jetty.

  In her mind’s eye, Clelia could see the former inhabitants lounging on the beach, a symphony orchestra playing in the garden while champagne flowed from a fountain in the gazebo. Her imagination conjured images of 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 glamour and glory.

  Most of the windows were shuttered, except for some on the ground and the first floors in which lights w
ere shining. Clelia stole another glance at Josselin. He brought the car to a stop in front of the double doors and turned to her.

  “I couldn’t take you back to your house. Neither could I take you to my parents’ house. I haven’t been back here 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 to unclip hers. His hand brushed over her breast and rested on her tummy.

  “I don’t know for how long we’ll have to stay,” he said, “but I’ve tried to make it as comfortable as possible.”

  “Have you heard anything about Erwan?” she asked softly.

  “I don’t want you to get your hopes up. You may not see Erwan before we have to leave. No one has seen him in months.”

  “Before we have to leave?”

  “When this is over, I’m taking you back to New York.”

  Clelia looked at Josselin in surprise. He had never mentioned his intention, and she hadn’t even thought that far into the future yet. Her home was here. She didn’t want to leave.

  “Who says I want to go to New York?” she said.

  His eyes immediately darkened a shade. “I’m not leaving you ever again. Never. I want you with me, wherever I go.”

  “Josselin,” she said gently, “what about where I want to go?”

  His expression softened. “Let’s talk about it later, all right? With regards to Erwan, I’ll do my best to track him down.”

  “Thank you.”

  Josselin kissed her, a soft gesture of hope, and got out. He came around to her side to help her from the car.

  He took a wool jacket from the back and draped it over her shoulders. “Warm enough?”

  She nodded. Instead of leading her up the steps to the front doors, Josselin took her hand and drew her into the forest.

  “Where are we going?” she said.

  The day had started to turn into evening. In another few minutes, it would be dark. Clelia shivered.

  “I want to show you something,” he said.

  Leaves and twigs crunched under her boots. Josselin had to let go of her hand to move away branches in a dense part for her to pass. His coat blended into the darkness of the forest. The white streaks in his hair flashed like lighting in front of her, but as he made his way ahead with an increasing pace, Clelia started to fear that they were going to be separated.

  She walked faster, but five seconds later, Josselin was lost from sight. She stopped, feeling frightened. Where had he gone? He couldn’t be far. She carried on walking, following what she hoped was a trail, until it was completely dark. Clelia paused again. There was no wind, but she could hear the rustling of leaves. A bird flew up into the air from a branch above her, the flap of his wings sounding loud in the quietness.

  Clelia called Josselin’s name softly, but the only answer she got was the hoot of an owl. She took a deep breath. She knew he would never leave her on her own. He had to be a short distance in front of her. She made her way forward cautiously, calling out his name again. Then she saw it–a light in the distance. It was dim and small, like the light of a torch or a candle. As she came closer, she could make out the silhouette of a small building. It was a chapel. On the steps stood a lantern, and when she rounded the corner, more light streamed from the stained glass windows.

  It looked as if the woods had swallowed the stone building. Creepers climbed up and over its walls and once domesticated flowers now grew wild in front. Clelia approached slowly. She could make out gravestones. She passed a Celtic cross and stopped short of a witch tree. When she grabbed hold of a branch to tread over the twisted roots, something sharp pricked her finger. She gasped. In the darkness, she hadn’t seen the thorny parasite covering the tree. Holding her finger up in the air, she saw a big drop that shined black, pooling from the tip of her finger. She was about to stick her hand in the pocket of her jacket for a tissue when a pair of arms folded around her from behind.

  Clelia jumped. She would have cried out in fright, but fingers threaded into her hair, tugging it gently to pull her head back, and before the sound could escape into the night, warm familiar lips caught it. Josselin. She sighed into the kiss. A mixture of relief, surprise, and ecstasy made her knees weak. Josselin’s other hand clasped around her wrist, holding her bleeding finger up, while his tongue demanded entrance to her mouth, his lips molding hers just the way he wanted.

  His hand slipped from her hair to her back, pressing her body to his while his kiss became more urgent. She whimpered, soft moans of delight flowing into their kiss, and he groaned in response. His breath was coming in gasps now, and Clelia found it difficult to keep herself up with his hand pressed into her lower back, arching her into him. She tried to free her wrist from his grasp so that she could hold onto him, but instead he tightened his fingers and circled his free arm around her waist, picking her off her feet and carrying her until she felt the stump of the tree at her back. His lips left hers for his teeth to rake down her neck. When he nipped at her shoulder, she cried out, flexing her hips to his in an unspoken demand.

  Josselin lifted his head to stare down at her. His silver eyes shimmered in the light that came from the chapel as he lowered her hand to inspect it.

  “You’re bleeding,” he said.

  Clelia battled to even her breathing. “It’s nothing. Just a prick from a thorn.”

  She watched as he slowly brought her finger to his lips.

  “Let me kiss it better,” he said, his voice thick, his eyes holding hers.

  Clelia couldn’t tear her gaze away as he sucked her finger into his mouth, his tongue circling the tip, licking her wound.

  Josselin was never an open book, never easy to read, but now she saw emotions wash over his face with clear intensity as he studied her. Slowly, he slipped her finger from his lips and kissed it tenderly.

  “Better?” he said with a twinkle in his eyes.

  “Much,” she whispered.

  “Do you know what this reminds me of?”

  She could only swallow, sure that her voice would be no more than a frog’s croak. His hands went to her hips, smoothing over the curves, stroking down, until his fingers buried in the soft flesh of her thighs under her dress. Heat pooled between her legs, making her throb for him.

  “This reminds me of the first time I tasted your blood,” he said. He brushed his lips over her ear, barely touching her, but every inch of her skin reacted in a delicious contraction.

  “That day in the woods, when I saw you bleeding, I wanted to kill him for laying his hands on you.”

  Clelia bit her lip. His hands moved to her inner thighs, his fingers brushing against the heat that gathered in her silk panties.

  “I knew that day that you’d haunt me. Forever. Did you know what I thought when I tasted your blood, Cle?”

  She shook her head, her eyes big.

  “I wanted to make you mine. Just mine. I wanted nobody else’s hands on your body but mine.”

  His fingers stroked over the silk, leaving her trembling. Clelia clenched her knees together in an attempt to still the excruciating arousal of his touch, her head rolling back against the tree, but Josselin flattened his palm over the mound of her pussy while his thumb found her clit. When she cried out, he increased the pressure on the nub that ached for his touch, massaging it in slow circles.

  She gasped.

  “Open your eyes for me, Cle.”

  She knew Josselin, knew he would stop unless she obeyed the command, so she forced her eyes open, trying to look at him when everything around her was a haze.

  “Focus on me, angel,” he said, his breath tickling her face in hot strokes. “That’s it, Cle. I need you to look at me so that I can see your reaction. I need to see when you feel pleasure or pain. Do you understand?”

  She wasn’t sure she could comprehend anything, except for his hard erection pushing its promise against her tummy while he tortured her to a point of surrender with his hand on the fabric of her
clothes. His other hand went to the curve of her ass, his fingers kneading the flesh, spreading her gently for his fingers to gain better access.

  She whimpered. “Ah, Josselin.”

  “Promise me you’ll never wander the woods alone, Clelia. Never again. Promise me from now on you’ll never go anywhere I’m not.” His fingers pressed against her, the pressure from his palm almost lifting her off her feet. “Promise me, that anywhere I go, you’ll come with me.”

  Clelia understood this part of the man she loved. When she told him in the car that she didn’t know if she wanted to go to New York, she had pushed the button of his insecurity, his fear of losing her. She never wanted to be without Josselin. She knew it with a certainty she had never known before. He was the center of her universe, the point around which her life revolved. What did it matter where they went? She didn’t care where they lived, as long as she could be with him.

  “I promise,” she gasped.

  “You’re mine,” he said, his voice predatory. “I won’t let you go. Not for a minute.” He seemed desperate, his hands matching his tone. “Having to let you go scares me more than the ghosts of my past.”

  A fire as large as the one burning in her body consumed him. She could see it now, and feel it in the agony she heard in his voice. He was frightened of losing her.

  “I promise not to leave you, Josselin,” she said, sensing his need to hear the words.

  She heard his sigh and then his lips found hers again in a kiss that mimed the heights his hands were taking her to. She was so close. Nothing else existed as heat started spiraling from her clit to her tummy, pushing her over the edge and convulsing her body with a pleasure bigger than what she’d ever felt. Her arms slipped around Josselin’s neck, holding him to her while she poured her heart into their embrace. He kept the pressure on her sensitive clit until the very last spasm had calmed, until she thought she couldn’t take it anymore. A scream tore through the night. Clelia recognized her own voice, but it felt as if she was somewhere else, looking down on the unfolding scene. Trying to get away from the torturous touch, she started wiggling, pushing with her palms on Josselin’s chest, but he was relentless, holding her in place with his body while his palm and thumb drove her insane.