Pyromancist (Seven Forbidden Arts 1)

As long as she could remember, she’d been in love with Joss de Arradon. Secretly. Joss was four years her senior and the most beautiful being she’d ever seen. He had bronze skin with hair so black it shone blue in the sun and eyes so gray they glowed in his head. Those eyes had captured her with their pain and intensity. All through school, she’d watched him from afar, the boy who was so strong and defenseless at the same time. While she admired him from a distance, he was barely aware of her existence. After all, she was an expert at hiding. Life had taught her it was safer to remain invisible.

Joss had only spoken to her once. It had been on a summer’s day after school. She’d sneaked to the forest behind the schoolyard because she’d known she’d find him there. She’d stand behind a tree and study the movement of his hand as he smoked a forbidden cigarette. She’d memorize the manner in which he pulled his fingers through his rebelliously long hair, and the way he laughed loudly into his gang of friends even when his eyes cried or blazed.

That day however, he wasn’t with his friends. He was with a girl. Her name was Thiphaine and she was the most popular girl in school. She was blond, slim, and beautiful with blue eyes and red painted fingernails. Clelia watched from her hiding place as Joss backed Thiphaine up until her body pressed against the trunk of a tree. It was an athuja occidentalis, but the townsfolk called it a witch tree because of the tangled roots that resembled crippled limbs and the branches that looked like knobbed fingers. The setting was eerie for a romantic adventure, and yet it suited Joss. He seemed right at home, whereas Thiphaine looked around nervously. His hand went to her cheek, his palm huge, dark, and rough against the porcelain paleness of her face, while his other hand slipped under her blouse. His gray eyes looked like melted steel when he lowered his head.

When he pressed his lips to Thiphaine’s, his hair fell forward, and he moved his hand from her cheek to brush it behind his ear. Clelia recalled the deliberate movement of his jaw, the way the muscles dimpled in his cheek, and the hand under Thiphaine’s blouse. All the while, Joss maintained his composure as Thiphaine came undone under his caress. The beautiful girl made low moaning sounds. Her knees buckled, but Joss, without breaking the kiss, grabbed her waist and pulled her so tightly against him her back arched. Keeping her up with his arm, he made her weak with his touch and tongue.

Watching them stabbed into her chest. Hurt speared her heart. The ache was greater than the heat of shame in her pores and on her cheeks, but she couldn’t tear her gaze away from the forbidden sight. It was Iwig, a boy from her class, who broke the spell when he discovered her behind the tree. He was a tall, blond boy with a strong build who she disliked for his habit of hunting abandoned cats with his pellet gun.

“What do we have here?” His eyes darted to the distance where Joss and Thiphaine were embracing. “A peeping tom.” He took a step toward her.

When she tried to back away, he grabbed her braid, inviting a yelp.

“Not so fast, witch.” He hauled her closer by her arm, making her stumble against him. “You like to watch, don’t you?” He grinned. “How about a taste of the real thing?”

She opened her mouth to tell him to go to hell, but he’d already brought down his head and kissed her so hard his teeth split her lip. Swinging back her arm, she slapped him with all the force she could muster. The blow was strong enough to fling his face sideways.

They both froze. When he looked back at her, his eyes simmered with fury. He glared for a second, baring his teeth, before lifting his fist. Unable to free herself from his grip, she steeled herself for the blow, but another pair of hands grabbed Iwig by the shoulders and flung him to the ground.

Her gaze collided with Joss’s violent expression. Her lips parted, words refusing to form, as she stared at him with shock and relief tangling in her stomach, leaving her feeling slightly sick. Before she could find her voice, Joss had lifted Iwig by the lapels of his jacket. Iwig’s legs dangled and his arms flayed like fish flapping on soil. Letting go of one side of the jacket, Joss hooked a fist under Iwig’s chin. The impact sent Iwig flying through the air. He hit the ground with a thump. With his arms wide and fingers flexing, Joss stepped over a cowering Iwig.