Pyromancist (Seven Forbidden Arts 1)

Joss clicked the door shut. “Did you enjoy that?”

“The jacuzzi? No, actually.”

“The flirting with Bono and that wanker on the water.”

“We weren’t flirting.”

“Don’t you know what men think when they look at your body?”

“Are you speaking for all men or with the exception of yourself?”

Resting his hands on his hips, he tilted his face to the ceiling.

“I may be your hostage,” she said, “but you don’t own me.”

That statement didn’t sit fucking right with him. She’d become his the minute she’d let him bury his cock inside her. But he hadn’t officially claimed her. Not yet. Until they’d finished what they’d started, she was free to choose whoever she wanted. Any lucky asshole could get to be her lover, not that he’d let that man live. In the meantime, he had no right to be jealous, angry, or protective. The only right he had was to do his job, which was to catch a firestarter, and he wasn’t doing a good job.

“When this is over—” he said, but then paused.

Their future was uncertain, not to mention bleak. Making promises he couldn’t keep wasn’t right.

“What then?” Clelia asked, a moment’s fear sparking in her eyes before she blinked it away.

“I’ll never harm you.” He’d kill for her—and from the way things were looking, he was pretty damn sure it would come to that—but he wouldn’t lift a finger against her.

“You don’t have to feel obliged to protect me just because we had sex once. I’m not your responsibility.”

The statement made him clench his jaw. Damn wrong. “I told you,” he said, every word measured, “I take sex very seriously.”

She gave him a sad look. “It’ll kill you.”

Resisting the urge to touch her, he fisted his hands at his sides. “What will kill me?”

“Being forced to make a choice between a girl you fucked once and what you believe in.”

“There is no choice.” Which was his fault. If he’d kept his dick in his pants, he wouldn’t have put them in this situation. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. He only regretted not remembering it, but he’d correct that soon, as soon as he’d gotten them out of this mess.

She blew out a small sigh, her expression something between frustration and reluctant acceptance. “What will you do when you find Erwan?”

He’d bring him to Cain. They’d question him. They’d find the firestarter Lupien was after and eliminate that firestarter to prevent such powerful magic from falling into the enemy’s hands. Surely, with time, Clelia would see there was no other choice.

He didn’t say any of that or told her about the killer he was when he kneeled in front of her and rubbed the towel over her arms, stomach, thighs, and feet. Looking up, he saw what he didn’t want to see in her eyes. He saw desire, a sexual need he liked to think he’d awakened. He didn’t want to see it because it was too painful not to react to it. Admitting that another man could fulfill it was like voodoo needles stabbed into his heart.

He dropped the towel and moved his hands up her legs and over her hips, coming to a stop on her small waist. “I could worship your body forever,” he said in a hoarse voice, “and when the time is right, I will.”

Her skin contracted under his hands. Her face softened, a part of her armor coming down when she threaded her fingers through his hair. Her touch was light. Uncertain. If she feared his rejection, it was because he gave her ample reason by pushing her away every time she reached out. As God was his witness, there would come a time she’d touch him without restraint. Catching her wrists, he kissed the chafed skin on each one, offering the only apology he could.

“I never meant to hurt you, Cle.” It was paramount she believed him, not only because he needed her trust, but also because it was the truth. “If I could—”

A loud knock sounded on the door before it opened abruptly, shattering the fragile moment.

Bono stood in the frame with a boutique bag in his hands. He looked from Joss who was kneeling on the floor to Clelia in her flimsy bikini.

Clearing his throat, he held up the bag. “I brought this.” At least he had the common sense to turn his head away, avoiding looking at Clelia’s scantily clad body, as he dropped the bag on the foot end of the bed. “Everything all right in here?”

“Um, yes,” Clelia replied.

Joss clenched his jaw. Did Bono really think he’d do something to her? Is that why he came charging in here? He pushed to his feet and stepped in front of Clelia, blocking Bono’s view.

Bono threw a thumb at the door. “I guess I’ll just go then.” He lifted his hand in an awkward greeting and backed out of the cabin before closing the door behind him.