Pyromancist (Seven Forbidden Arts 1)

“If I’m not allowed to be polite, you’re not allowed to be nice.”

“I wasn’t nice.”

“You apologized.”

“Not to you. To the universe, for wasting.”

“It took me all of three minutes to prepare.”

She lifted her chin. “I don’t care.”

“Just take the tray to the kitchen and load the dishwasher.” He added, making sure the warning sounded in his voice, “I’m right behind you.”

She followed out his order with a straight back and stiff shoulders. There was no place for smiles in what was going down, but he grinned anyway, enjoying her little show of defiance when she walked out ahead of him with too much sass in the sway of her hips.Chapter 14After taking out the trash, Joss ushered Clelia outside and locked the door. The smile he plastered on his face didn’t fool her. He was worried. Every muscle in his body was drawn tight as he scanned the area while guiding her to the SUV waiting in the driveway.

Lann got out from the driver’s seat and went around to open the passenger door. In white Bermuda shorts and a navy striped T-shirt, he could’ve been any holidaymaker about to enjoy some sailing, but she was familiar with the latent power under his graceful movements. He’d been as at ease with an automatic rifle in his hands as he’d be with a fishing rod.

She glanced around. There was no one else in sight, no one she could call to for help. She could make a run for it, but she couldn’t outrun Joss or an SUV. She should rather save her strength for the fights that mattered.

As if sensing the direction of her thoughts, Joss locked his hand around her bicep. He handed their bags to Lann and motioned for her to get in. Maya sat in the back, holding a pistol and looking as relaxed as if she were about to go for a scenic drive.

Something inside Clelia shifted. She couldn’t say what it was, but she could feel it. Since Joss had taken her captive, she hadn’t been herself, and it wasn’t just the emotional trauma of the kidnapping, the drugs, or Joss’s effect on her. She saw more clearly, and experienced touch with a new intensity. Her instinct flared, fierce and lucid. Suddenly, she knew without a doubt danger was near. Something that felt too much like the end stretched like a shadow over her heart.

“Hey,” Maya said, scanning her face. “Are you all right?”

Joss nudged her from behind. “We’re an open target. We have to get moving.”

She turned to him. “Promise me you’ll take care of my animals.”

He frowned. “I already told you I would.”

“Promise me. Regardless.”

His frown deepened. Without replying, he gripped her hips and lifted her into the vehicle.

“Joss,” Lann said, his voice soft, “she asked for a wish. It has to be granted. You know the rules.”

“We don’t have any rules,” Joss bit out.

“Fine,” Lann said in his ever-patient voice. “You know the code of conduct. She has a right to ask. You should grant her the wish.”

“Let’s go,” he said to Lann, getting in next to her.

Maya smiled at her like a cat that had snatched a sausage from a butcher shop. Dressed in a tight top, slick black pants, and high-heeled boots, she swung her leg as she regarded Clelia. “Don’t worry. We’ll take care of your animals. Joss doesn’t want to promise because the grant usually pertains to last wishes.” Putting emphasis on the words, she added, “As in dying.”

“Shut up, Maya,” Joss said, resting his arm on the seatback behind Clelia. “I’m not making any last-wish promises.” He turned to Clelia. “Understood?”

She did. Only too well. Nothing could stop what was coming. Not even Joss.

When she didn’t answer, he took her chin and turned her face to him. His words were gentle. “What would you like for breakfast?”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Maya’s amused smile. “I’m not hungry.”

Joss clenched his jaw, but he didn’t press the issue.

She looked through the window. Out here, she felt like yesterday—lost and alone. Inside the house, there were only Joss, his ghosts, and her. For the night they’d spent in his room, she almost managed to pretend what waited outside the doors of that haunted house didn’t exist. She felt closer to him now because of the things they’d shared in that house, things they shouldn’t have said. Instead of hating him, the forbidden kiss had sealed her feelings. By sharing his truth, he’d tangled his life with hers to form a new hybrid. No matter what happened, it was too late. She couldn’t sever her roots from his without killing the tree.

They drove to the old oyster factory that had closed down several years before, and set off in a small boat that had been tied to the unused jetty in the bay. It was a clever spot to hide a boat, as the metal spikes of the rusted oyster camps hidden under the water made it dangerous to swim, and the stench of the decaying seaweed kept sunbathers and fishermen at bay.