Pyromancist (Seven Forbidden Arts 1)

“I’m fine.” She definitely preferred solitude over Maya’s company.

“As you wish.” Maya sauntered to the door and left.

Clelia pulled the plate closer and cut into the duck. She ate, not tasting a thing. Maya had left a glass of milk as if she was a child. When she’d finished, she drank the milk too, taking in as many nutrients as she could.

“If you’d rather have a glass of wine, I’ll pour you one,” Joss said from the door.

The sound of his voice made her jump. Tensing, she put the empty glass on the table and tracked his movement as he crossed the floor.

“Well?” he said, stopping short of her.

“No, thanks.”

“You’re finally eating.” He crossed his arms. “Good. I was about to feed you.”

She looked at her plate, anywhere so she didn’t have to look at him.

He pulled out a chair and sat down. “There’s something I need to explain to you.”

The seriousness of his tone made her lift her eyes.

“Because of what my father did to my mother, I can’t tolerate abuse, especially not against someone weaker and smaller. What Iwig did to you that day in the forest drove me close to murder. I almost deported Maya to head office for hitting you.” His gaze dropped to her neck. “What I did to you is inexcusable. And when I saw Bono’s hands on you today, I saw you defenseless and so goddamn delicate. I saw you at any man’s mercy.”

“I’m not fragile or helpless. I can take care of myself.”

“I didn’t say you’re helpless.”

“But you think you need to save me,” she said, sadness infusing her tone, “and it’s tearing you apart.”

“I’ll do the right thing.” Even as the words left his lips, doubt clouded his eyes.

“What is the right thing?” she whispered.

His face turned into a stony mask as he gave her the only answer he could—silence.What the fuck was he going to do? Joss rubbed a hand over the stubble on his chin, studying Clelia through hooded eyes. He couldn’t let anyone get a hint of the conflict warring in his chest. Would he kill her if Cain ordered her execution? There was no question about the answer. He’d have no choice but to betray his team and go on the run with her.

Fuck.

The chair grated over the floor when he got to his feet. “I think I need that glass of wine. You look like you can do with one too.”

“I’m fine.”

“It’s a Château Barreyres. I forgot how good French wine is.”

“I don’t blame you for wanting to forget,” she said, her voice not entirely unkind.

He wanted to forget many things, things that wouldn’t let him.

“I shouldn’t have said that.” She bit her lip. “That was insensitive.”

He couldn’t help himself from wiping a strand of hair from her face. It was a pathetic excuse to touch her. “I didn’t forget you.”

Her slanted eyes widened. Her irises were almost as dark as her pupils, creating a stunning infinity of midnight black.

“I did notice you, even if you were only a child,” he said. “I tried not to, as God is my witness, but you were so pretty, so innocent, and so damn untouchable.”

“Joss—”

“I thought of you when I fucked her that day.” The confession was shameful, but it felt good getting if off his chest. “When I closed my eyes and came, it’s your face I saw.”

She pushed away from the table. “I don’t want to hear it.”

He grabbed her wrist before she could escape. “I shouldn’t have wanted you. Not then, and not even now that you’re a woman.” He didn’t repeat the reason. Harping on the fact that they stood on opposite sides of the fence wasn’t helpful.

She jumped up, her small breasts heaving. “Don’t.”

“Don’t say I want you, or don’t say I shouldn’t want you?” He yanked her so close her nipples brushed his chest with every breath she took. “Are you scared of the truth?”

Her regard was sober, her voice soft. “I don’t think we can afford any more truths.”

He didn’t like the look of resignation in her eyes. “I’m going to help you.” No matter the cost. If it meant losing the life he’d so painstakingly reconstructed, so be it.

She steeled her spine, trying to look brave when he knew she was scared. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

“You’re getting it anyway.” Reaching out, he traced the curve of her collarbone. His hand was steady but his breathing quickened. He didn’t touch her with more than the tip of his finger, following the strap of her top over her shoulder, yet he felt it with every fiber of his being. “We’ll find Erwan and settle this once and for all.”

Goosebumps broke out over her arm. She wasn’t unaffected. At the fluttering of her eyelashes, he reluctantly withdrew his hand. There was no point in teasing if he had no intention of taking it further. God knew, he wanted to. He had every intention of finishing what they’d started and remembering it this time, but not while she was his prisoner. Not when it would seem he didn’t give her a choice.