Pyromancist (14 page)

He spoke to her softly, patiently, as if to a
child, and for some reason his tenderness only angered her
more.

“You drugged me and locked me up. I’d say
it’s pretty normal to be upset. All I want is to go home.
Please.”

“Clelia, it’s not safe for you to go home. Do
you understand what I’m saying?”

She didn’t understand anything. She felt
drained and her brain felt like fried squid. She couldn’t remember
who she was running from any longer. The police, Josselin, her
father...

“Why?” she said, grasping for understanding.
“Why is it not safe?”

“The attack on us yesterday...” He paused,
his gaze almost apologetic. “I believe it was an attempt to kidnap
you.”

“But you beat them to it, didn’t you?” she
said, letting the bitterness slip into her voice.

He brushed his knuckles over her cheek.
“Listen to me. If I’m to help you, you have to tell me everything
you know. Talk to me about the fires.”

She pushed with her hands on his chest,
trying to sit up, but he held her tighter.

“I don’t know who started the fires,” she
said. “I only know it’s not Erwan.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I know him. I’ve lived with him all of my
life. You know him,” she said accusingly. “You know he could never
be capable of something like this.”

“All right. Say it’s not Erwan. Who else
would do such a thing?”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t you? I’ve just learned that there’s a
very powerful pyromancist in town,” he said. “His name is Lupien.
And it looks like he’s chasing a local firestarter. He’s also after
you. Now why would that be?”

Clelia could feel herself pale. “I don’t
know.”

“Could it possibly be because he knows what
I’m suspecting? That Erwan has the answer to the identity of our
firestarter, and that you are the key to finding Erwan?”

She shook her head fiercely. “This is
madness.”

“Clelia, I will never ask you to betray your
family, but I pray that Erwan will come for you soon. Now,” he
wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs, “please understand
that I’m keeping you for your own good. I won’t let anyone get to
you, do you understand? And I can’t let you run away. It will put
you at risk.”

He looked so much like he did that day in the
woods when he attacked Iwig that she cowered a little. As much as
he melted her insides, he also scared her. He was so intense, too
powerful, completely unreadable.

He put her on her feet gently, got up and
pushed her down in the chair again.

“Where was I?” he said, picking up the knife
from the floor.

He washed the carving knife and continued
cutting the fish. Clelia watched him prepare a salad in silence and
when it was done, he placed everything on the table and took a
bottle of white wine from the fridge.

He didn’t ask what she preferred, but simply
dished up food for her and poured her a glass of Sauvignon Blanc.
He handed her a knife and fork and pushed the plate toward her.

“The tranquilizer would have suppressed your
appetite, but you need to eat. You can’t go twelve hours without a
meal. Try it,” he urged. “It’s light. I got something that’ll be
easy on your digestive system. It’s tuna, a favorite of mine.
Tomorrow you’ll be very hungry. It’s a normal side effect of the
drug.”

To not evoke his fury or displeasure, Clelia
dipped her fork into the salad and chewed listlessly on a piece of
lettuce. She really didn’t feel like eating.

“Good girl,” he said. “Now, a sip of wine.”
He lifted her glass and held it to her lips. She watched him as she
drank and saw his pupils dilate and contract.

“I should warn you,” she said, “I’m not used
to drinking wine.”

Josselin smiled. “No, I’m sure you’re not.
Just like you’re not comfortable with your naked body. Yet.”

She swallowed, but the lettuce got stuck in
her throat. In a flash, she felt heat crawl up her neck and
face.

“You’re beautiful, Clelia. You don’t need to
be shy.”

She almost snorted. As if someone like him
would have ever looked at her. She was a far cry from the
Thiphaines of the world.

They finished the rest of their dinner in
silence. Josselin made her eat every morsel on her plate. He even
made her drink the wine, which gave her a buzz in her body and her
mind that left her pleasantly heated and relaxed. When Josselin
cleared the table, she offered to help, and then frowned at the
absurdity of her suggestion, as she was, after all, a hostage and
not a dinner guest. In any event, he declined, smiling as if he
were amused, and she ended up watching him load a dishwasher that
looked very new.

After the meal, she suddenly felt tired
again. She rested her chin in her hand. “If the nightmares are so
bad, you shouldn’t have brought me here.”

He paused, just for a second, in the middle
of rinsing a plate. “I apologize for bringing you here. It was the
only place I could think of on short notice. Believe me, I did try
all of the hotels. Everything is full.”

“That’ll teach you for planning a kidnapping
in peak holiday season,” she said.

He actually laughed. Clelia lifted her head,
startled. She had never heard Josselin laugh. Chuckle, snicker–yes.
But laugh, with his head thrown back–no.

“What’s so funny?” she said.

He looked at her for a moment. “Nothing.”

She stifled a yawn.

“Come on,” he said, “it’s after midnight. We
can go to bed now. It’s past the witching hour.”

“That’s not funny.”

Josselin picked her up and carried her
through the house and up the stairs to his tower room. She was too
tired to object. Once inside, he locked the door.

“Go ahead and use the bathroom,” he said. He
took something that looked like a small ePad from the desk. “I want
to do a check on the perimeter alarms.”

Clelia brushed her teeth and washed her face
and hands. Courtesy of the alcohol, she still didn’t feel
completely herself as she walked back into the room. Looking up,
she stopped dead in her tracks. Josselin only wore tracksuit pants.
His broad chest was bare. He looked irresistibly handsome with his
wild hair loose around his face and the muscles rippling over his
abdomen. She had never seen him without a shirt. Never. Not in all
the years, that they had lived in the same area and gone to the
same school had she ever seen him swim in the ocean or lounge on
the beach. The sight made her heat from the bottom up, until she
felt the blush pushing up over her breasts, hardening her nipples,
and flushing her neck. She pursed her lips and quickly looked away,
so that he wouldn’t notice the color flooding her cheeks. As he
brushed past her, she inhaled the clean smell of soap and something
exotic, woody. He paused.

“The door is locked,” he said, twisting a
strand of her hair around his finger. “Don’t even try.” He let the
hair slip from his hand, smiling down at her with those very cold,
gray eyes, before vanishing into the bathroom.

Clelia sat on the edge of the bed, hearing
her own heartbeat in her ears. The odd thing was that she believed
Josselin. She believed him when he said it wasn’t safe for her to
go home. But she also knew that he was after a firestarter, and
that it wasn’t Erwan he really wanted. Could it be her he was truly
after? If it was her, did she honestly want to run and hide for the
rest of her life? Wouldn’t it be better to be stopped, for the
horrible fires to cease, before someone actually was hurt or
killed?

The bathroom door opened and Josselin exited.
Clelia’s mouth went dry. He was too beautiful to look at.

His gray eyes flared. “It’s not a good idea
to look at me like that, little witch. Not if you value your
virginity.”

This time the flush didn’t slowly spread from
her loins to her face. It hit her in a flash. “I’m not looking at
you like anything. And who’s to say I’m a virgin?”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Are you denying
it?”

“Why is everyone suddenly interested in my
sexual status?” she said, angry again.

Instantly Josselin’s face turned dark. “Who
is everyone?”

“No one,” she said.

His eyes narrowed. Suddenly he didn’t seem
friendly at all. “Are you seeing someone?”

“That’s none of your business.”

He stared at her for a few seconds. “Who is
he?”

“Who is who?”

“Don’t play that game with me. Who is
interested in your sexual status?”

She sighed in exasperation. “I don’t want to
talk about it.”

Josselin sat down next to her. “Is someone
bothering you?”

She stared at him in disbelief. “What do you
care?”

“Oh, you have no idea. There are many things
I can tolerate, but not what Iwig did to you.”

“Please.” She didn’t want to be reminded of
the embarrassing event where Josselin most probably realized that
she had been spying on him because she had a crush on him. Thinking
back to that day always made her shiver. The way Josselin had
tasted her blood... A thought crossed her mind.

She jerked her head up. “You said something
before about knowing I’m not the pyromancist because you tasted my
blood.”

“I knew you’d ask sooner or later. I was kind
of hoping for later.”

“What did you mean by that?”

“I can tell things by tasting blood.”

“You drink people’s blood?”

“I’m not a vampire, Clelia. It only requires
a drop.”

“Let me guess. That is how you ended up
investigating paranormal crime.”

“Yes,” he said patiently. “We all have our
special gifts.”

“What are Lann and Maya’s?”

“Maya is a hydromancist, someone who can
manipulate water, and Lann is an aeromancist. His element is
air.”

“What do you call your gift?”

“Mine is not considered a gift. It doesn’t
have a name. It’s not one of the seven forbidden arts. It’s an
anomaly.”

Something bothered Clelia. Could he tell by
tasting her blood that she had a crush on him?

“What things can you tell?” she asked
carefully.

“Various things. It depends.”

“What about diseases? Aren’t you afraid of
picking up microbes by sticking other people’s blood into your
mouth?”

“I’m immune to infection via blood.”

She hesitated, trying to gather her courage.
“What did my blood tell you when you tasted it?”

His eyes moved to her lips. “Back then, when
we were kids, or yesterday?”

“In both instances.”

“That day in the forest, I knew you were
good, pure, angelic. Yesterday confirmed it. You didn’t start those
fires, despite what everyone says about your mother.”

Clelia flinched.

“I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“I may be the one you’re looking for,
Josselin,” she said.

She saw her words take him aback, saw the
shock for just a second in his eyes, the concern and the denial,
before he composed himself.

“No, Clelia. Blood doesn’t lie.”

“You could have made a mistake.”

“No.” His eyes were hard. “I don’t make
mistakes like that.”

“Cut me.” She held her hand to him.

Josselin recoiled. “What?”

“I want you to cut my finger, taste my
blood.”

“Why?”

“I want to be sure.”

“It’s not necessary.”

“Do it, Josselin.”

“Clelia, you don’t know what you’re asking of
me.”

“I’m asking you to double check.”

“This won’t accomplish anything.”

“Then do it. You’ve got nothing to lose. Cut
me, or I’ll do it myself.”

His expression shifted. “All right.” He got
up and walked to the chair on which his bag stood. He retracted a
hypodermic needle sealed in plastic, removed it and came to stand
in front of her. He pushed her legs open with his thigh, until he
stood between her knees.

“Give me your hand,” he said, his voice
throaty.

Clelia obeyed.

He took her wrist and turned her palm up.
“It’ll only be a prick.”

His eyes held hers as he swiftly brought the
needle down and punctured the tip of her index finger. Clelia
flinched. Still holding her gaze, he left the needle on the bedside
table and pressed just under the tiny wound until the droplet of
blood grew big and plump. The gray of his eyes turned very dark as
he brought her finger slowly to his mouth. He opened his lips and
guided her finger inside, not touching her skin except with the
inside of his lips, but already Clelia’s heart rate spiked from the
contact. When he wrapped his tongue around her finger, circling it
slowly and then gently sucking, Clelia felt like combusting.
Josselin’s skin took on a deeper color. His smoky stare burned her
as it held her eyes captive. Hot liquid gathered between her legs.
She involuntarily tried to squeeze her knees together, but Josselin
still stood between them, and the vulnerability of her exposure
only added to the mounting heat.

She swallowed, intoxicated by the predatory
look that came over Josselin’s face as he caressed her finger with
his tongue. Her breasts ached with heavy swollenness. Her breath
came fast and hot. Allowing her gaze to trail down Josselin’s neck
and torso, she saw that his chest was rising and falling rapidly
too, and that the bulge in his pants was impossibly big. Lust and
astonishment washed through her. Josselin was turned on. By
her.

Abruptly, and to her great disappointment, he
released her finger and dried it on his pants.

His smile was almost a grimace. “Tasting
blood can be a very erotic experience for me.”

Clelia felt a jab in her heart. Did that mean
he was turned on by blood, and not by her?

Her eyes slid to his groin again. “Does this
always happen?”

When he didn’t answer, she looked back up. He
watched her with uncertainty.

“The truth?” he said.

“Always.”

He pursed his lips, seemingly doubtful. “Only
with you,” he finally said.