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

  “I have a meeting with Cain,” he said. “If you need anything—”

  “I’ll call Maya.”

  He winced inwardly. It was what he’d asked from her—to put a damper on their attraction. It was as good as asking her to deny what was happening between them. As for him, he’d never deny he was falling in love. He’d just suffer it in silence. For now.

  “As you wish,” he said, shutting the door and trapping her image behind it.

  Chapter 18

  Unable to contain her curiosity, Clelia peered inside the boutique bag. Joss might be trying hard to push her away, but buying her clothes was a strangely intimate act, and she wanted to see what he’d chosen.

  She pulled out black yoga pants with a red stretch top of soft cotton. He’d paired it with a red scarf wide enough to double as a shawl. It was a practical and comfortable outfit. Not so much the short silk nightdress with a low neckline she took out next. The decadency of the matching lace underwear sets caused a heated, fuzzy feeling in her chest. He even got her size right. He’d obviously checked the labels on her clothes he’d packed.

  The rest of the content included a cute knee-length dress with a cherry blossom motif, lace-up boots in undyed leather, and an exquisite mid-length coat. The hem, priest-style collar, and cuffs were trimmed with faux fur. She stroked a hand over the softness of the fabric and admired the craftsmanship of the tailoring before folding everything neatly and packing it back into the bag.

  After changing into her denim shorts and a T-shirt, she rinsed out Maya’s bikini and hung it in the bathroom to dry. Then she sat down on the bed, letting the sway of the ocean rock her while she gathered her thoughts.

  Joss had come for her. She realized it with a sudden, startling insight. When he finally realized she was the prize and not the bait, he’d have no choice but to kill her. Cain was right. It would be an impossible choice for Joss to make. Yet, she wasn’t going to sit here and let them kill her—sacrifice herself—like Cain had suggested.

  The moment was near. Saying goodbye to Joss, forever this time, would rip out her heart, but she knew how to survive. She’d had a lifetime’s practice of one-sided love. Although, before she’d been intimately acquainted with Joss’s touch, her unrequited love had been more sufferable. Now it would be a wound that could never heal, but if her longing kept the memory of how he’d felt inside her alive, she was prepared to live with the pain.

  She’d paid careful attention to their course. It was Lann who watched, or maybe controlled, the weather from behind the wheel of the yacht, but it was Maya who determined the path of their cruise according to the tides. She sensed Maya’s bond with the water. Even if Clelia’s own element was fire, and water was her natural enemy, she had the advantage of having been raised by a fisherman who read the sea like a chiromancist would read the palm of a hand. She’d memorized their navigation, dictated by slipstreams and tides. They’d pass Île aux Moines at sunset. She’d worked out her plan to the last detail.

  When the engines powered up at the onset of low tide to take them deeper into the Gulf, she went outside. Bono was, as always, standing on the deck, seeming unwell. His dark skin had an ashen undertone.

  She gave him a sympathetic smile as she paused next to him. “It’ll get better with the movement.”

  He wiped a hand over his mouth. “I can be flipped upside down and pull G’s that’ll push the average man’s gut through his throat, but I can’t stand the rocking of a boat.”

  “Each person has a different biological make-up.”

  “If you and Maya are anything to go by, women seem less affected.”

  “Don’t forget Lann. He seems all right.”

  “In my book, Lann counts for a woman.” He grinned. “Don’t tell him I said that.”

  “He’s not feminine at all. In fact, he’s rather scary.”

  “I’m referring to his affinity for luxury and fashion, but I guess you’re right. Women find him attractive in a geeky kind of way. He’s got steel claws under that elf-like appearance.” He winked. “Don’t tell him I said that either. He’s sensitive about his ears.”

  She liked Bono. He was kinder than the others and he didn’t seem to have a hidden agenda. “How come you speak French so well?”

  “Don’t take the piss out of me,” he said good-naturedly. “I know I have a terrible accent.”

  “It’s kind of appealing if you ignore the harshness,” she teased.

  “I grew up in Senegal. Former French colony.”

  “Oh.”

  “Have you ever been?”

  “I’ve never traveled outside of France. I imagine you must be traveling all the time.”

  “Sometimes,” he said with a wistful look, “I wish I could sprout roots somewhere.”

  She studied him closer. Lann looked like dynamite that could explode at any minute, Maya was as tough as nails, Cain as frightening as unpredictable, and Joss was mercurial. Bono was, well, just sweet. Why would he would work for a task force that investigated paranormal crimes?

  “May I ask you something, Bono?”

  “Shoot.”

  “How did you end up working for Cain?”

  He chuckled. “I don’t work for Cain. I work for Joss.”

  That came as a surprise. “How did it come about?”

  “I’m an aircraft fanatic. I built and flew my own helicopters. Joss recruited me when we met during a mission in China. That’s why I need to be careful around you.” He grinned. “I can’t afford to piss off my boss.”

  She looked at her hands. “I’m sorry about that. He’s not being mean. He’s just very protective.” Remembering Joss’s words about being kicked off the team if anyone suspected their involvement, she glanced at Bono. “We’re not an item, Joss and me. We grew up together. I suppose the fact that he’s known me for a long time must be hard for him.”

  Bono laughed. “You can put as much icing sugar on it as you want. He’s in head over heels.” His smile was broad. “He’s jealous.”

  Maybe not in head over heels, but definitely jealous. The observation hit too close to home. She tensed. “He’s got his reasons for reacting the way he does.”

  “You don’t have to defend him. I’d probably react the same if I considered a woman mine.”

  “I’m not his,” she said quickly, “and I’m sorry you had to take the brunt.”

  “Forget about it.” He squeezed her shoulder. “It’s nothing.”

  She forced a smile. “Feeling better?”

  “The movement definitely helps.”

  “I’m going to walk around the deck for a bit.”

  “Good idea. It’s important to keep up some exercise.”

  “Well, I wish you deep roots someday,” she said.

  He frowned. Damn. Her words had sounded like a farewell. Before he had time to ponder the meaning, she walked away.

  It was only lunchtime, a while still before she could put her plan into action, so she sat on a deckchair and watched the sea while she thought about her future. Her plan to hand herself over to the authorities wasn’t such a good plan any longer, not after what Joss had said about people like her being secretly eliminated. If she could hide out for a few months until it was safe to return for Erwan, they could think of something together. What she didn’t dare face was what she was going to do if the fires started again.

  She sensed Joss behind her before he spoke. His presence stroked over her senses like a caress. Even now she felt his resistance. His battle to stay away from her conflicted with his reluctance to leave her. It was on ongoing war inside him.

  “I have to go to the mainland after lunch,” he said. “Do you need anything? Maybe some personal things?”

  She turned to look at his face, and gave him a smile. The gesture came from the same place as her love—from her heart. She wanted their last hours together to be beautiful. “No, thank you.”

  He frowned. “You’re smiling, but you’re sad.”

  “What will you do w
hen you catch your firestarter?”

  “My mission will be complete.” He studied her through narrowed eyes. “I’ll move on to the next one.”

  “Are the missions all that matter?”

  “It gives meaning to my life.”

  “You’re a good man.” The hand he clenched at his side pulled her gaze. It was masculine with a dusting of dark hair and thick veins. If she reached out, she could run her fingers over the back. She barely resisted. “I wish you could see yourself as you really are.”

  “I only see the truth.”

  “Do you?”

  His eyes crinkled in the corners. “I don’t see what there isn’t.”

  “Do you keep your promises?”

  “You know I do.”

  “Remember the one you made about my animals.”

  His body turned rigid. “I didn’t promise anything.”

  She memorized his older face. Much had happened in his life, and he deserved none of it. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t let him go like this.

  She got to her feet. Standing on tiptoes, she pressed a kiss on his lips. “One day, you’ll see the truth.”

  When she turned to leave, he grabbed her wrist. “Why are you talking like this?”

  She schooled her face into a mask. Getting emotional would give away her plan.

  His silver eyes darkened. “Are you planning on hurting yourself, Cle?”

  Holding his piercing gaze squarely, she said, “No.”

  “Then what’s wrong with you?”

  “Nothing.” She shrugged. “I’m just sad.” She uttered an awkward laugh. “Hormones, I guess.”

  Folding his arms around her, he let down his guard enough to kiss the top of her head. “Come inside. I’ll make you something to eat.”

  “Maya’s cooking.” She freed herself from his embrace. If she stayed in his arms she was going to cry.

  “Maya tends to burn food. I make a gourmet seafood pasta.”

  The way he tried to cheer her up was sweet, but it only made her sadder. “Isn’t serving me beneath you, Joss from Josselin?” she teased, mentioning the title because he was so charmingly embarrassed about the honor.

  “Sometimes I forget about that title,” he said with a grim face. “I hate it.”

  “Why?”

  It was an important title. The Josselin village in the Morbihan region was named after the son of the first Viscount of Morbihan, Guithenoc. The Josselin Castle, dating back to 1020, was still owned by the descendants of the original Viscount Josselin de Arradon. Her Joss was the only living descendant in a long line of heirs. For someone like her who was born a nobody, his refusal to own that honor didn’t make sense.

  The set of his jaw hardened. “I’m not worthy of it.”

  “You are,” she whispered.

  Turning, he said, “I’ll call you when lunch is ready.”

  “Joss?”

  “Cle?”

  “Thank you for the clothes.”

  His gray eyes seemed less cold when he smiled. “You have no idea how much pleasure that gave me.” Leaving her with the statement, he made his way to the kitchen.

  Chapter 19

  After lunch, Maya and Joss left for the mainland to take care of whatever business they had there. Cain asked if Clelia wanted to accompany him for a walk around the deck, but she declined.

  She leaned on a rail and watched the sea until the sun was setting behind the island and the yacht came to a stop.

  Lann approached her when they’d anchored. “You’re not supposed to move around when the engines aren’t running. I’ll escort you back to the cabin or to the lounge if you wish.”

  “I’m feeling queasy,” she lied. “Maybe you can stay with me until we move again?”

  “I’ll start up the engine soon. We’re just waiting for Joss and Maya to come aboard.”

  “Where did they go?” She didn’t expect him to answer, and she didn’t really want to know. She was simply killing time.

  “To put out some fires.”

  Her pulse jumped. “There was another one?”

  Lann gave a slight smile. “That was a bad joke. I meant it figuratively. They went to deal with the media.”

  “What did they tell them?”

  A motorboat appeared in the distance, the noise of the engine interrupting their conversation.

  “Speak of the devil,” Lann said, turning his gaze in that direction. His golden eyes didn’t light up with his smile, but his slightly pointed ears lifted.

  The boat pushed against the side of the yacht. Maya stepped on board, followed by Joss. He looked around, and when he saw her, the tense set of his shoulders relaxed.

  “I guess now you can ask him yourself what he told the press,” Lann said.

  Joss maneuvered around the deck until he reached them. “The boat isn’t moving.” He didn’t look pleased. “What’s she doing outside?”

  “Don’t worry,” Lann said. “I watched her. She’s not feeling well.”

  Alarm flashed in Joss’s expression. “What’s wrong?”

  She lied to Lann, but Joss couldn’t be deceived. He knew she didn’t get seasick.

  “I’m fine,” she said, leaning her backside against one of the gates in the rail where a stepladder could be hooked.

  Keeping his eyes on her, Joss said to Lann, “Start up the engines.”

  With a polite inclination of his head in her direction, Lann left to do as he was told.

  Joss ran his gaze over her. “The wind is cold. You need a jacket.” He scowled. “You should wear shoes outside. You could slip.” When she didn’t reply, the frown between his eyebrows deepened. “Are you coming down with something?”

  “I’m fine,” she said again.

  The yacht started moving, slow at first, and then faster. The rock formations of Île aux Moines was visible in the distance. They’d circle the island and steer the yacht several miles into the sea before cutting the engine and drifting in the Gulf until morning.

  Biting her lip, she made her calculations while she felt behind her back for the latch that opened the gate. She couldn’t screw this up. One wrong move, and she’d be dead.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” Joss asked. “I have to give Cain a report.”

  “Go ahead. I’m going to stay here and enjoy the sunset.”

  “Go get a jacket and shoes.”

  “Just another minute.” She held her breath. If he pushed the issue, her chance would be lost.

  After a strained moment of hesitation, Joss nodded. He walked to the lounge, but turned at the door to look at her. Uncertainty played in his eyes. Then, as if he suddenly realized what she was about to do, those silver pools widened. At the same time, Cain appeared in the frame.

  Clelia quickly scanned the deck. Lann was at the wheel, out of view. Maya was looking down from the bridge. Bono wasn’t in sight.

  Cautiously, as if trying not to scare away a bird, Joss lifted his hand, palm up and fingers splayed. It wasn’t a command. It was a plea.

  She released the latch. The gate swung open, hitting the side of the boat with a clang.

  Cain stood dead still. Maya looked like a statue. They were cruising at full speed now. Jumping would be suicide. That was what they would think.

  When Joss took a step forward, she pushed herself into the gap in the rail. The silent threat worked. He froze.

  Three more seconds, and she’d have to let go or it would be too late. It was much harder than she’d thought to let go of Joss. When a gust of wind rocked her body, she almost lost her footing.

  “Cle!” Joss raised his arms, but stopped when she inched back with one heel hanging over the edge.

  The panic she saw on his face stirred feelings in her chest. The misery of never seeing Joss again was unbearable. As despair ripped through her heart, a rush of heat raced through her body. She’d never felt anything like it. While Joss, Cain, and Maya bore witness, a ball of fire erupted at her feet. She reeled.

  What was
happening?

  No!

  Her gaze snapped to Joss’s. His expression mirrored her shock. She couldn’t stand the look of betrayal in his eyes as comprehension set in.

  She was the prey.

  She wasn’t staying to witness his judgment.

  “I’m sorry,” she mouthed.

  Letting go, she plunged to freedom.

  Chapter 20

  Joss shuddered at the image of Clelia in front of the open gate in the rail. Her body was small against the backdrop of the menacing sea. The water was deep and black, a vastness of weight that could bury a person and keep her forever like a secret.

  Christ. Move away from the rail.

  The wind whipped her hair around her face. It was too far and noisy to speak, not that he was able to utter a word, so he pleaded with his gaze. Her beautiful, dark eyes filled with compassion. The fear mounted, squeezing his chest so hard he couldn’t breathe. He preferred anger or hatred. Anger or hatred was alive, unresolved and therefore continuous, but compassion was the result of closure, and closure meant letting go.

  Compassion was the end.

  Carefully, he extended his hand in a silent invitation because she wasn’t within grabbing reach. She gave another step back, wedging herself into the opening of the gate. His gut twisted. She gave him the smile he knew she was going to. It was a sweet smile that held no blame. No. He didn’t want to see it. Blame would’ve been good. Blame kept one going. Not to blame was the end of the road.

  She lifted her foot and poised it over the edge. His insides churned like the turbulent water below her. He took a step forward, shaking his head, but the compassion in her wide eyes turned into an apology when she put down her foot in an unmistakable threat. He didn’t have a choice but to stop. Her body rocked in the strong wind.

  “Cle!” He lifted both hands, willing her to come to the safety of his arms.

  Out of nowhere, flames erupted, dancing on the deck at her feet. The shock froze him. The truth teased him even as denial set in. It couldn’t be. He’d tasted her blood.