Pyromancist (17 page)

Now she looked hopeful, like a little bird
who had spotted a worm.

“Anything else?” she said, narrowing her
pretty, slanted eyes at him.

He almost smiled. “Anything not pertaining to
you going home.”

“When you left, they said you went to New
York.”

“I ended up in New York, yes.”

“Did you go there to join this ... these
people you work with?”

“I didn’t go there to find them. They found
me.”

“Why is this special task force of yours such
a big secret?”

“The use of the arts they possess are
forbidden.”

“Why?”

“During the first Dark Age, many people
practiced these arts for personal gain, to win power, and those
magicians were not interested in humanity or goodness. It took many
centuries to slay them, and the battle was long, hard, and bloody.
To protect humankind, the church at the time burned all these
‘magicians’, seeing them as Satan’s disciples. A few survived, but
had to go into hiding. For centuries after that, no one dared to
even say the word ‘magic’.”

“Surely someone can’t be burned on a stake in
today’s world?”

He smiled wryly. “No. They get
eliminated.”

Her eyes widened. “Killed?”

“This is why they keep their ‘skills’ a
secret.”

“You’re not making a secret of yours. Neither
is Lann or Maya.”

“Mine is not an art and therefore not
forbidden. Lann and Maya don’t advertise what they are. They’ve
taken an oath to only use it for the good of mankind. Our team has
powerful support from individuals in various governments.”

“Why would they support you if everyone else
would be killed for owning this ... this art?”

“Because we’re just a group of people who
believe in the good, Clelia. We’re trying to do it quietly without
causing public pandemonium. It’s no different from any other group
fighting crime. The only difference is that we operate on a
paranormal level.”

Her expression was shocked as she tried to
digest the information.

“We’re protecting the good,” he said.

“The good.” She snickered. “And what is the
good? Is kidnapping me and keeping me away from what I know and
love good?”

“In the greater scheme of things––yes.”

“In the greater scheme of things, a small
sacrifice to pay, right?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“No? I suppose now you’re going to tell me
that justice isn’t black and white.”

“In fact, justice
is
that simple. An
eye for an eye.”

“And you, Josselin, what are you, truly?”

His eyes moved over her delicate body. “I’m a
man, Clelia.”

“A man? What you do isn’t human, Josselin.
Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you enjoy the taste of blood. And
don’t lie to me about just getting turned on from the cocktail of
my
red blood cells. That’s insane.”

Her words wounded him, even if part of it was
true. He wasn’t fit to be called human. That didn’t make him less
of a man, or diminish the feelings she evoked in him.

“I told you last night, I’m not some kind of
vampire, Clelia.”

“Then what are you, Josselin de Arradon, if
you’re not a vampire?”

He rested his hands on his hips and lowered
his gaze. When he looked up again, he saw the look of hope, of
expectation in her eyes, and if he had been the vampire she thought
him to be, it would have been a wooden stake in his heart, because
he couldn’t give her the reassurance of normality she needed. No,
it was best she knew the beast. He wouldn’t deceive her.

“I don’t know what I am. I don’t know why I
have this ability to taste blood. All I can tell you is that I
honestly enjoy the experience, but I’ve never found it erotic,
until I tasted yours. Maybe it’s because of the ... other things
... I taste in your blood.”

She stood very still. Behind her the light
made a halo around her head. Her voice sounded small when she said,
“What things?”

“Your arousal. Your desire. Nothing vulgar,
just pure and beautiful in its feminine innocence.”

She flushed so prettily that he had a hard
time not kissing her. He wanted to go on his knees and taste the
juices that spilled whenever he was near, but if he did, it would
make him wild. Unstoppable. He’d have to claim her and make that
lust his own, and he’d rather not stake a claim on something he
didn’t deserve. She deserved better than him. He was wondering if
she was going to deny it, but she just stood there, her blushing
telling him she was embarrassed that he knew her secret.

“You said you wanted the truth, always,” he
reminded her gently.

The red on her cheeks only intensified as she
gaped at him, her lips slightly parted. How would her pretty mouth
look after a night’s caresses? Would it be plump and swollen from
his kiss?

A flash of him in the cemetery invaded his
memory, his head resting in Clelia’s lap, her lips pushed against
his. His hand shot to his forehead. He was going crazy. Was he now
seeing things simply because he wanted them to transpire?

“Are you unwell, Joss?” Clelia said.

“Josselin.”

“Excuse me?”

“I prefer it when you call me Josselin.
You’re the only one, except for Cain, who you’ll soon meet, who
uses my full name.”

“I think you should stop telling me the names
of the people who you work with.”

“I won’t harm you, Clelia. Stop believing
that I will.”

She didn’t answer.

He took their bags. “Can you please get the
tray?” He motioned to the untouched breakfast.

She obliged, looking remorseful all of a
sudden. “I’m sorry I wasted your breakfast. It was a kind thought.
I’m just too...”

“Emotional?”

She nodded, biting her lip.

“It’s a normal reaction from the drug. When
it wears off, you should be really hungry.” He looked at her meager
form. “It’s not as if you could do with skipping a meal.”

“Well, I’m sorry anyway.”

“It took me all of three minutes to prepare.
I want you to stop being nice to me, please.”

She lifted her chin. “I’m only being
polite.”

“I suppose you can’t help it. You’ve always
been too nice for your own good.”

“Nice?” An injured look came over her face.
“I suppose all the ugly girls are ‘nice’. It must be ‘nice’ to be
something more alluring, like enchanting, or bewitching.”

If she only knew how much she had already
bewitched him, she’d be a lot less nice to him, because right now,
he felt like pulling her over his knee to show her just how ‘nice’
he
could be.

He sighed. “Just take the tray to the kitchen
and load the dishwasher. And remember, I’m right behind you.”

She actually managed to follow out his order
with dignity and a bit of an attitude. Josselin grinned behind her
back.

Chapter
Ten

Josselin took out the trash and locked the
front door, his hand firmly on Clelia’s arm. She watched him
closely. She could tell he was wary. His muscles were tense and his
eyes scanned the area as he guided her to the SUV waiting in the
driveway. Lann got out from the driver’s seat and went around to
open the passenger door. He wore white Bermuda shorts and a navy
striped T-shirt. He could have been any holidaymaker intent on
enjoying some sailing, but Clelia once more noticed the latent
power under his graceful movements and remembered how natural the
automatic rifle had looked in his hands.

For a second she considered running, but
there was no way she could outrun Josselin or an SUV. Besides,
Josselin’s grip was like a steel vice on her arm. He handed their
bags to Lann and motioned for her to get in. Clelia could see Maya
sitting in the back, her hand holding a pistol that rested lightly
on her knee. She looked relaxed, as if she were about to go for a
scenic drive.

Something inside Clelia started shifting. She
couldn’t say what it was, but she could feel it. Since Josselin had
taken her captive, she hadn’t been herself, and it wasn’t just the
emotional trauma of the kidnapping, the drugs, or Josselin’s effect
on her. There was a new sense of power inside her that made her
feel calmer and stronger. It was as if she suddenly saw more
clearly, and experienced touch with a new intensity. Her instinct
was fierce and lucid. She wasn’t sure what was happening to her,
but she knew without a doubt that she would escape. It was a surety
that had nestled in her mind, a tranquil knowledge, as if she could
read the future.

At the thought of leaving Snow and her other
wolfdogs behind, a pang of sadness invaded her heart. Instead of
ignoring it, she embraced it, allowing the intensity of the emotion
to further strengthen her spirit. She didn’t dare explore her
reaction to running from Josselin. That kind of hurt would cut too
deep, weakening her when she needed her strength.

Josselin nudged her from behind. “We’re an
open target. We have to get moving.”

She turned to him. “Promise me you’ll take
care of my animals.”

He frowned. “I already told you I will.”

“Promise me. Regardless.”

His frown deepened. Without replying, he
gripped her hips and lifted her into the vehicle.

“Joss,” Lann said, his voice eerily soft,
“she asked for a wish. It has to be granted. You know the
rules.”

“We don’t have any rules,” Josselin bit
out.

“All right,” Lann said patiently, “you know
the code of conduct. She has a right to ask. You should honor her
wish.”

“Let’s go,” he said to Lann, moving in next
to Clelia, pushing her body with his into the corner.

Maya smiled. She was the epitome of female
sensuality in a bright red top with black crisscrossed laces left
undone to expose her generous cleavage. She wore slick black pants
and high-heeled boots.

Maya swung her leg leisurely. “We’ll take
care of your animals. Joss doesn’t want to promise because the
grant usually pertains to last wishes, as in dying.”

“Shut up, Maya,” Josselin said, resting his
arm on the seatback behind Clelia. “I’m not making any last-wish
promises.” He turned to Clelia. “Understood?”

When she didn’t answer, he took her chin and
turned her face to him. “What would you like for breakfast?”

He sat really close to her and she could feel
his breath on her face. His words were gentle, his touch tender.
From the corner of her eye, Clelia saw Maya’s amused look.

“I’m not hungry, thank you,” she said.

Josselin gave an exasperated sigh, but he
didn’t press the issue.

Clelia looked out of the window. It felt as
if her life had tangled with Josselin’s and had formed a new
hybrid, that it was already too late to sever her roots from his
without killing the tree.

They drove to the old oyster factory that had
closed down several years before, and set off in a small boat tied
to the unused jetty in the bay. It was a clever spot to hide a
boat, as the metal skeleton spikes of the rusted oyster camps
hidden under the water made it dangerous to swim, and the stench of
the decaying seaweed kept vacationers and fishermen at bay.

They went several miles into the sea before
they pulled up next to a big luxury yacht, of which there were many
in the Gulf during the holiday months of July and August. An
unusually tall man with a shaved head and eye patch, all muscles
and teeth, waited on the deck. He had a huge diamond stud in one
ear. His black skin and patch shone in the sun, making him look
like some African god turned pirate. As he extended a hand to help
them onboard, his muscles rippled under his open striped shirt.
Designer jeans hugged his narrow hips. He pulled Maya onto the
deck, but when he reached for Clelia, Josselin said, “I’ve got her,
Bono.”

Josselin kept his hands on her hips as he
guided her up the ladder from behind. Without introducing her to
the man he called Bono, he led her around the deck. She was aware
of Bono’s puzzled glare when they passed him.

Josselin took her down a few steps into a
generously sized lounge. A striking man with a red birthmark on his
cheek sat in a lounge chair reading Charles Dickens. Dressed
entirely in white, he conveyed a dashing air, a mature kind of
attractiveness, and instead of spoiling his features, the mark
added to his enigmatic appearance. Upon their entry, the man got up
and leaned casually on a cane with a huge brilliant stone head.
Everything about him seemed to capture and demand attention. He
took her fingers lightly in his and kissed her hand without
touching his lips to her skin.

“Clelia, an absolute pleasure to meet you.
Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Cain, your host. Has Josselin
been treating you well?”

Clelia glanced at Josselin, who stood close
behind her. He gave her a hard look, but not a completely
unfriendly one.

“Maybe we’ll talk later,” Cain said,
following the direction of Clelia’s eyes. “I do apologize for your
... detainment ... but unfortunate circumstances necessitated the
extreme measure. However, I am happy to welcome you onboard our
safe house. I dare say that you’ll feel less of a prisoner here
than on land.” He smiled, but there was no mistaking the subtle
warning underlying the gesture. “The sea is, after all, a prison in
its own right. At least it will award you with the liberty of
moving around.”

Clelia looked at the flat surface of the
water through the window. They were not moving. To some, the ocean
seemed like a prison, holding a boat hostage in its countless miles
of surrounding water, but for someone like her, who had grown up
with the sea and been taught to read its tides like a map, it was
an opportunity for freedom, to escape. She said nothing, however,
as Cain waved at Maya, who waited by the door, to enter.

“Maya,” Cain said when she walked up to them,
“you can escort Clelia to her cabin. Get her settled in.”