Pyromancist (29 page)

“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 were
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.”