Pyromancist (Seven Forbidden Arts 1)

“Are the missions all that matter?”

“It gives meaning to my life.”

“You’re a good man.” The hand he clenched at his side pulled her gaze. It was masculine with a dusting of dark hair and thick veins. If she reached out, she could run her fingers over the back. She barely resisted. “I wish you could see yourself as you really are.”

“I only see the truth.”

“Do you?”

His eyes crinkled in the corners. “I don’t see what there isn’t.”

“Do you keep your promises?”

“You know I do.”

“Remember the one you made about my animals.”

His body turned rigid. “I didn’t promise anything.”

She memorized his older face. Much had happened in his life, and he deserved none of it. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t let him go like this.

She got to her feet. Standing on tiptoes, she pressed a kiss on his lips. “One day, you’ll see the truth.”

When she turned to leave, he grabbed her wrist. “Why are you talking like this?”

She schooled her face into a mask. Getting emotional would give away her plan.

His silver eyes darkened. “Are you planning on hurting yourself, Cle?”

Holding his piercing gaze squarely, she said, “No.”

“Then what’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing.” She shrugged. “I’m just sad.” She uttered an awkward laugh. “Hormones, I guess.”

Folding his arms around her, he let down his guard enough to kiss the top of her head. “Come inside. I’ll make you something to eat.”

“Maya’s cooking.” She freed herself from his embrace. If she stayed in his arms she was going to cry.

“Maya tends to burn food. I make a gourmet seafood pasta.”

The way he tried to cheer her up was sweet, but it only made her sadder. “Isn’t serving me beneath you, Joss from Josselin?” she teased, mentioning the title because he was so charmingly embarrassed about the honor.

“Sometimes I forget about that title,” he said with a grim face. “I hate it.”

“Why?”

It was an important title. The Josselin village in the Morbihan region was named after the son of the first Viscount of Morbihan, Guithenoc. The Josselin Castle, dating back to 1020, was still owned by the descendants of the original Viscount Josselin de Arradon. Her Joss was the only living descendant in a long line of heirs. For someone like her who was born a nobody, his refusal to own that honor didn’t make sense.

The set of his jaw hardened. “I’m not worthy of it.”

“You are,” she whispered.

Turning, he said, “I’ll call you when lunch is ready.”

“Joss?”

“Cle?”

“Thank you for the clothes.”

His gray eyes seemed less cold when he smiled. “You have no idea how much pleasure that gave me.” Leaving her with the statement, he made his way to the kitchen.Chapter 19After lunch, Maya and Joss left for the mainland to take care of whatever business they had there. Cain asked if Clelia wanted to accompany him for a walk around the deck, but she declined.

She leaned on a rail and watched the sea until the sun was setting behind the island and the yacht came to a stop.

Lann approached her when they’d anchored. “You’re not supposed to move around when the engines aren’t running. I’ll escort you back to the cabin or to the lounge if you wish.”

“I’m feeling queasy,” she lied. “Maybe you can stay with me until we move again?”

“I’ll start up the engine soon. We’re just waiting for Joss and Maya to come aboard.”

“Where did they go?” She didn’t expect him to answer, and she didn’t really want to know. She was simply killing time.

“To put out some fires.”

Her pulse jumped. “There was another one?”

Lann gave a slight smile. “That was a bad joke. I meant it figuratively. They went to deal with the media.”

“What did they tell them?”

A motorboat appeared in the distance, the noise of the engine interrupting their conversation.

“Speak of the devil,” Lann said, turning his gaze in that direction. His golden eyes didn’t light up with his smile, but his slightly pointed ears lifted.

The boat pushed against the side of the yacht. Maya stepped on board, followed by Joss. He looked around, and when he saw her, the tense set of his shoulders relaxed.

“I guess now you can ask him yourself what he told the press,” Lann said.

Joss maneuvered around the deck until he reached them. “The boat isn’t moving.” He didn’t look pleased. “What’s she doing outside?”

“Don’t worry,” Lann said. “I watched her. She’s not feeling well.”

Alarm flashed in Joss’s expression. “What’s wrong?”

She lied to Lann, but Joss couldn’t be deceived. He knew she didn’t get seasick.

“I’m fine,” she said, leaning her backside against one of the gates in the rail where a stepladder could be hooked.

Keeping his eyes on her, Joss said to Lann, “Start up the engines.”

With a polite inclination of his head in her direction, Lann left to do as he was told.

Joss ran his gaze over her. “The wind is cold. You need a jacket.” He scowled. “You should wear shoes outside. You could slip.” When she didn’t reply, the frown between his eyebrows deepened. “Are you coming down with something?”