Scapulimancist (Seven Forbidden Arts Book 7) Read online

  “Yes and no. I’m glad Dumile doesn’t resent me, but it also feels wrong taking him away from the only home he’s ever known.”

  “As long as he agrees, you don’t have to feel bad.”

  “I don’t know how you did it, but I’m proud of you for finding the elephants.”

  She had to come clean, but not today, not after what they’d shared. She wanted to savor the moment a bit longer. Tomorrow, she’d tell him the truth.

  His arms tightened. “You have to promise me you’ll stay away from the Therons. I’ll go speak with Clive when we get back, sort out this bad vibe between you and Thinus once and for all.” He kissed her deeply and rolled on his back, bringing her with him. He lifted her, fit another condom, and positioned his cock at her entrance. “I shouldn’t be doing this, not so soon, but…”

  Their cries echoed through the cave while their shadows played on the wall, an erotic dance of sound and light that seemed bigger than life itself. Indestructible.

  * * * *

  Wayne woke with the first light that streamed through the hole in the rock ceiling. Sara’s soft, supple body was draped over his. He was as hard as an iron pole. He’d taken Sara once more in the night. She’d be sore this morning, but he couldn’t keep his hands or cock off her. He’d have to get a grip on his control and hold off for a couple of days. He pulled on his pants and went outside to relieve himself. When he stepped back into the cave, she lay on her back with her arms folded behind her head in a pool of daylight that filtered through the pothole. The position flattened her breasts slightly and accentuated the dip under her ribs before the gentle swell of her stomach that sloped to the dark valley between her legs. A flush marked her naked skin. Her look was sultry, like she wanted him again.

  He shook his head, even as his body hardened.

  “What?” she said, running a hand over her breasts.

  His throat tightened at the erotic sight. “Aren’t you sore?”

  “A bit.”

  “Then stop teasing me.”

  “Tell me how this makes you feel.” She played her nipple between her fingers, working the tip into a hard nub.

  His dick strained against his zipper. “Why are you doing this?”

  “I like it when you tell me how I turn you on.”

  “You want me to talk dirty to you?” He’d said a few things last night in the heat of the moment, and it had made her wet. Sara wasn’t a dirty talker, but she liked him to be.

  It was too soon to make love to her again, but he could give his woman all the dirty talk she wanted. It would teach her a good lesson for taunting him if it got her wet and bothered.

  As he approached and stopped over her, her green eyes—a bit wider now than before—assessed him. Her hand moved between her legs. Fuck. Watching her touch herself did things to him, things that made it hard to practice control. It took everything he had not to pounce on her when she rubbed her fingers over her clit.

  “You want dirty?” he said.

  “Yes,” she replied on a breathless gasp.

  “I want to fuck you on your hands and knees.”

  Her face flushed a little. He loved the sight of her like this, her naked body a sacrifice on a bed of crushed petals. Under the golden skin, he could see her ribs. So fragile, and yet, so strong.

  “I want to give you pleasure for so many hours that you can’t tell night from day.”

  Her stomach quivered.

  “I want to drag my tongue over your clit and taste how much you want me. I want to eat you with my fingers up your pussy until you come so hard you won’t realize what’s happening until I slam into you so deep you’ll feel me in your soul.”

  She panted, her fingers coated with moisture.

  His voice hardened. “But not today. After tomorrow, I’ll make love to you in a way you’ll never forget.” He adjusted his dick. “Get dressed, before I do something we’ll both regret.”

  Her pretty eyes were round with disbelief. “You’re going to leave me like this?”

  “Until tomorrow. Then I’ll take you like you want—hard.”

  She swallowed, and he had to turn away.

  Except for his raging hard-on, the hike back was filled with peace of the kind he hadn’t known since before Mariana. Under the tree where they took their lunch break, he gathered some of the tall green grass and braided a bracelet like the Xhosas had taught him.

  “Hold out your wrist,” he said.

  When she offered her arm, he secured the simple bracelet around it.

  She gave him a smile brighter than any star. “I love it. Thank you.”

  It wasn’t a grass bracelet she deserved. He didn’t have money for a ring, not yet, but he was planning on putting in some overtime.

  He extended a hand and pulled her to her feet. At her wince, his eyes slipped to her lower body. Damn, he felt that wince all the way to his soul. “Are you still fine to walk?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I lost my virginity, not my legs.”

  He kissed her lips, tasting the essence of her skin. “Just checking.”

  Her response was to walk out ahead of him, swinging her tight little ass like a woman who knew how much she was desired. Not that he was complaining. He loved the view. He’d noticed that ass the first time she’d popped it onto a barstool in Woodcutters. He was planning on seeing a lot more of it.

  From the last hill before the cabin, he spotted Christian’s truck parked out front. His gut tightened with a dark foreboding. It was a working day. Christian wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t serious. As they neared, Christian straightened from where he leaned on the porch rail. Sara waved, her manner cheerful.

  Christian met them at the exit of the path. “I waited hours out here. Where the fuck have you been?”

  “At the caves.” Wayne sheltered Sara under his arm. “What’s wrong?”

  “Clive’s been calling you since last night, but your phone’s off.”

  He felt Sara’s eyes on him, both trusting and questioning. What he didn’t like was the odd glance Christian shot in her direction.

  He was almost too afraid to ask. “What happened?”

  “Manfred’s dead.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “What?” Sara said, shock resonating through her.

  Wayne’s arm tightened around her shoulder. “How?”

  “Snakebite. Happened last night. When they got him to the clinic it was too late.”

  She placed a hand over her heart. “That’s terrible. What kind of snake?”

  Christian gave her a strange look, but instead of answering, he addressed Wayne. “Clive sent you a text last night and called all day. You better go see him.”

  “I don’t understand,” Sara said. “How does he expect Wayne to help?”

  Christian wetted his lips. He looked at Wayne when he said, “Clive says it was murder.”

  “Murder?” Sara exclaimed. “How can a snakebite be murder?”

  “The snake crawled into his bed,” Christian said, still not facing her. “The group swore all the windows and the door were closed. The gap under the door isn’t wide enough for a snake to crawl through.”

  Christian’s refusal to make eye contact with her was getting annoying.

  “It happens,” she said. “It won’t be an isolated case.”

  “It was a Cape Cobra.”

  Why did Christian say it like it was the answer to a riddle? She was going to ask, but Wayne’s hold on her slackened. His hand lifted from her shoulder, and his arm dropped to his side. Coldness replaced his heat as he pulled away a fraction so that not one inch of their bodies touched. It took her a moment to understand. Wayne thought she was responsible. Their eyes locked. She stared at him, hoping to God she was wrong, but the truth was there in the way his expression turned hard and then closed-off.

  “Wayne?”

  She stood waiting, daring him to say it, knowing damn well that the affirmation will destroy her, but he didn’t say a word. No accusation fell from his
lips. It was Christian who took care of it for him.

  “Clive says it was Sara.” Christian moved his weight around. “The police are looking for her.”

  “Thank you,” Wayne said, his voice quiet. “I’ll take care of it.”

  Christian nodded. “Thought you could do with a warning. Call if you need me. I’ll be at work.” He didn’t look at her as he walked back to his truck.

  Wayne dropped their backpacks to the ground. His face was a thunderous turmoil of mixed expressions.

  She shook her head, tears burning at the back of her eyes. “I trusted you. I hoped you’d give me the same.”

  “I did,” he said through thin lips.

  “You think it was me.”

  “What do you want me to think? I saw that snake in your house. What kind of snake spat Nelis in the eyes? Only a cobra does that. Wasps in the night? Red ants?” He grabbed her arm. “Nobody has seen the elephants for decades, yet, you walk into the forest and find them on the first try.” He shook her gently, his eyes drilling into hers. “I gave you a chance to come clean, but you said you had nothing to tell me, and I trusted you. Like a fool, I chose to believe you.”

  She pulled from his hold, pain mixing with anxiety. “I’m not a murderer.”

  His voice was icy, distant. “No, that’s me. What are you, Sara?”

  “A scapulimancist.”

  The way he looked at her made her heart ache.

  “There’s a word for that around here. You’re a sangoma.” He said it as if it disgusted him.

  “I’m not a witchdoctor. I have a gift to control animals. That doesn’t mean I can read the future in scattered bones or cast killing spells.”

  “Commanding snakes isn’t the same as a killing spell?” He picked up their bags, turned his back on her, and stalked to the cabin.

  Running to catch up with him, she said, “Wayne, where are you going?”

  “Get inside,” he said darkly. “I’m going to try and save your ass.” He stopped to look at her. “When it’s done, you have a lot of explaining to do.”

  “There’s nothing to explain. Why can’t you just trust me?”

  “You lied to me in my face, Sara. How am I supposed to trust you?” He unlocked the door and almost yanked it off its hinges before pointing a finger at the interior. “Inside!”

  She jumped as his voice thundered through the valley. How could he be so uncompromising? “I swear I was going to tell you tomorrow. I wanted to enjoy our first time making love without complications.”

  He turned his face away from her. “Get in.”

  As soon as she had passed over the doorstep, he dumped their bags, locked the door, and checked the windows.

  She stood in the middle of the floor, her heart thumping in her throat. “Wayne?”

  Ignoring her, he took his phone from his backpack and checked his messages. A scowl hardened his face as he read. Wordlessly, he shoved the phone in his pocket. Then he lifted a big duffle bag from a shelf above the chimney and carried it to the kitchen where he started filling it with dry and canned food from the pantry.

  “Wayne, what are you doing?” Sara asked from the door.

  “You’re going to hide in the forest until I can figure out a way of getting you out of this mess.”

  She crossed her arms. “I’m not running. I did nothing wrong.”

  He paused to look at her. “This isn’t about right and wrong. Nobody cares about justice in this town. You’re a stranger, and you’ve made yourself the enemy from the day you walked in here with your parks board uniform. Now you’re a scapegoat. If they catch you, they’ll slaughter you.” He resumed his task, adding bottled water to the bag.

  When she turned back for the lounge, he asked darkly, “Where are you going?”

  “To call Odier.”

  His jaw bunched. “Who the hell is Odier?”

  “My boss. He’ll know what to do.”

  Wayne straightened. “He knows what you are?”

  “Yes.”

  “You told him…”

  Even if he didn’t say it, ‘And not me’ were unspoken words hanging in the air between them.

  She wiped her hair behind her ear. “Odier has connections.”

  “I see.” He zipped the bag closed. “You’re still going into the forest.”

  “I won’t run like a criminal.”

  “You’ll fucking run because I won’t see you killed!”

  “I can’t figure out what happened to Manfred while hiding in the forest.”

  A loud bang on the back door made her jump.

  “Shit.” Wayne pushed her deeper into the shadow of the room and rushed to the window. “It’s Mulder,” he whispered.

  “Who’s Mulder?”

  “Police.”

  “Open the door, West, or I’ll break it down,” a voice called from outside.

  “Stay here,” Wayne said, making his way around to the front.

  He’d scarcely given two steps before the backdoor flew into the kitchen, the wood splintering around the lock. A man in the standard blue uniform with a big stomach entered the room, a gun in his hand. The hair on the one side of his head was brushed over the top to hide the bald patch. His eyes were gleeful. She took an instant dislike to him.

  He trained the gun on her. “Stay where you are.”

  Wayne lifted his hands. “Take it easy, Mulder.”

  “Stay out of it, West. This ain’t your fight.”

  “I’m afraid it is. She’s my woman.”

  Mulder licked his lips, his eyes flickering between them. “Then let me take her in. Shit’s gonna hit the fan if the town folks get their hands on her, and you know it. We just wanna get to the bottom of the truth.”

  Wayne lowered his hands, his expression pained.

  “Don’t do it, Wayne,” she begged.

  Her gift was hunted and people like her were secretly killed. Mostly by government. She couldn’t trust anyone, especially not the police.

  “The safest place for her, right now, is a prison cell,” Mulder said. “At least no one can get to her there.”

  A muscle worked in Wayne’s cheek.

  “No.” She backed away from the men. “How can you even consider it?”

  “Do you think this is easy for me?” Wayne dragged his hands through his hair.

  “You’re making a mistake.”

  “At least, behind bars Clive or Thinus can’t get to you,” Wayne said. “If word gets out, and believe me, in a small town like this it will, people are going to hunt you. You’ll be shot. I can’t protect you against the whole town. Mulder is right. Until I find you a lawyer, you’ll be safest in jail.”

  “Please, just listen to me.”

  Wayne hung his head. “I’m sorry.”

  There was no point arguing. Wayne wasn’t going to listen. No one was going to listen. She swallowed back her tears and pursed her lips together to still their trembling.

  There was a hint of sadness in his voice when he said, “I wish you’d told me.”

  An investigation could prove her innocent, but she wouldn’t live long enough to see one, not if what had happened to her kind was anything to go by. Her father, when he was still alive, had always drilled secrecy into her. Tell the truth and end up dead.

  “Am I taking her the easy way,” Mulder asked, “or do I have to shoot someone?”

  Wayne’s shoulders hunched. “I’ll take care of you, Sara.” He turned to Mulder. “Keep her locked up. Don’t let anyone get to her.”

  Mulder produced a pair of handcuffs. “Bring her over here.”

  Wayne’s eyes darkened. “Is that necessary?”

  “Procedures. You know the drill.”

  Wayne pulled her into his arms, hugging her tight while Mulder grabbed her arms together behind her back and slammed the cuffs around her wrists.

  “You can’t do this,” she said, fighting Wayne’s hold. “I’m not under arrest.”

  The constable scoffed. “Now you are.”


  Wayne gripped her chin and tilted her face. “I’ll get you out. You know this is for your own good, right?” He pressed his lips to hers, a soft and tender kiss, like a goodbye kiss.

  Constable Mulder lifted his weapon and cocked the safety. She held her breath, waiting for the shot to go off, but he aimed the weapon at Wayne instead.

  “What the fuck?” Wayne said.

  Mulder took another pair of handcuffs from his pocket and threw it at Wayne. “Put that on.”

  Wayne glared at Mulder. “Are you out of your mind?”

  “You’re under arrest, too,” Mulder replied. “Thanks for doing my job for me. I’m glad I didn’t have to chase around the mountain for you two fugitives.”

  “This is a mistake,” Wayne bit out, repeating Sara’s words.

  “Put on the handcuffs and get in the van.” Mulder jerked on Sara’s handcuffs, making her wince as they chaffed the healing tattoo.

  Wayne pointed a finger at Mulder. “Go easy on her or you’ll regret it.”

  Mulder sneered. “Nobody is going easy on you, your little parks board ranger, or that witchdoctor Xhosa you call family. Thinus told us about your mistress here and the snakes. There’s only one way of doing the kind of magic that killed Manfred, and that’s sangoma magic, which makes Dumile an accomplice.”

  Wayne’s laugh was cold. “What does that make me?”

  “The motive,” Mulder said. “I have witnesses who heard you threatening Manfred’s life, and your woman made a show of telling the hunters she hoped they got what they deserved. We all know how you feel about sport hunters. If you ask me, you got Dumile and Miss Graham to do your dirty work.”

  Wayne’s eyes narrowed. “You have no idea how wrong you are.”

  Mulder only smiled. “We’ll see about that.” He twirled Sara around until she faced away from Wayne and pressed the barrel of the gun against her head. “Put on your cuffs, West, and get in the van. I won’t tell you again.”

  Sara’s heart raced with fear. She glanced back over her shoulder at Wayne. It could be the last time she’d ever see him. Wayne obeyed quickly, but with defiance in his gaze. No sooner were his hands secured, than Mulder raised his hand clutching the weapon. A sharp pain exploded on the back of her skull, and then her problems faded.