Pyromancist (Seven Forbidden Arts 1) - Page 40

A smile flirted with his lips. “Of course.”

She stiffened. “It’s not funny.”

“I never said it was.”

“Let me go. Please.” She pushed away. “I won’t tell anyone. I swear.” She continued in a rushed tone. “We can just forget any of this happened.”

“It’s not safe for you to go home.” He stroked a hand over her hair. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

She didn’t know who she was supposed to be running from any longer. The police, Joss, or her father? She slapped his hand away. “Why isn’t it safe?”

“The attack on us yesterday…” He paused, searching her eyes. “I believe it was an attempt to kidnap you.”

“But you beat them to it, didn’t you?”

He brushed his knuckles over her cheek. “I’m going to get you out of this, but you have to tell me everything you know. Talk to me about the fires.”

The sudden gentleness was nothing but a ploy to make her talk. She tried to stand, but he tightened his hold.

“I don’t know who started the fires,” she said.

“Think, Cle. Who would do such a thing?”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t you? I’ve just learned there’s a powerful pyromancist in town,” he said. “Does the name Lupien ring a bell?”

“No,” she said, her mouth going dry.

“It looks like he’s chasing a local firestarter. He’s also after you. Now why would that be?”

The blood drained from her head, leaving her dizzy. “I don’t know.”

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

“This is crazy.”

“I’ll never ask you to betray your family, but you better pray Erwan comes for you soon.”

She shoved his arms away and jumped from his lap. “Are you threatening me?”

“No.” He straightened. “If it’ll make this easier for you, think about it like I’m keeping you for your own good. I can’t let you run away, because I won’t let anyone get to you.”

He looked so much like he did that day in the woods when he attacked Iwig she almost believed him, but if there was one thing she’d learned today, it was that she’d never truly known Joss. He was unreadable, his motivations untrustworthy and unclear, and the man was much more sinister than the boy she’d given her heart to.

“Where were we?” he said, walking to where she’d dropped the knife and picking it up from the floor as if she’d never threatened him.

She sank into the chair, watching helplessly as he washed the knife and continued to carve the fish. When he was done, he tossed lettuce in olive oil and balsamic vinegar and placed it on the table with a bottle of chilled Sauvignon Blanc.

He dished up a hearty portion, poured the wine, and pushed the plate and glass toward her. “The tranquilizer would’ve suppressed your appetite, but you can’t go twelve hours without a meal. Try it.” He motioned at the food. “The tuna will be light on your digestive system and you need the protein.”

She forked a piece of lettuce and said with a bite in her tone, “Do I have to stay at the table until I’ve eaten everything?”

His smile was patient. “Have some wine. It’ll help you relax.”

In a spiteful act, she grabbed the glass and downed the wine in one go.

“I meant sipping it,” he said with a chuckle, “but there’s more where that came from.”

When he lifted the bottle to refill her glass, she shook her head. Getting tipsy wasn’t a good idea. She needed her wits about her.

Of course he made her sit at the table until she’d eaten all her food. By the time her plate was empty, she was buzzing from the wine. When Joss cleared the table, an offer to help was on the tip of her tongue, but then she frowned at the absurdity. She was a hostage, not a dinner guest. In any event, he didn’t ask for help, and as she watched him tidy the kitchen, lethargy settled over her again. It was the low after the adrenalin high from earlier.

She studied him where he stood at the sink, washing dishes. Even with his back turned to her he exuded alertness. No doubt he was aware of her every move. Even if she tried, she’d never make it to the front door before he’d caught up with her. However not all of the tenseness in the set of his shoulders was due to vigilance. It had to be difficult for him to be back in this house.

“If the nightmares are so bad,” she said, “you shouldn’t have brought me here.”

He paused in the middle of rinsing a plate. “It was the only place I could think of on short notice. Believe me, I tried the hotels. Everything is full.”

His honesty surprised her. Despite herself, a small part of her anger waned. Maybe it was the effect of the wine. “That’ll teach you for planning a kidnapping in peak holiday season.”

Tags: Charmaine Pauls Seven Forbidden Arts Fantasy
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