Pyromancist (Seven Forbidden Arts 1)

Something shifted in his eyes. “I’d never put your life in danger.”

“Only draw out the danger?”

Instead of answering, he reached for a bar of soap.Chapter 32At the first light, Clelia woke. She blinked the sleep from her eyes. The candles had burned out and the fires were dead. The room was cold, but Joss’s naked body was draped over hers, not only warming her, but also anchoring her to the bed.

Lying in the arms of the man who’d chased her over continents, knowing he was now her husband, was even more disturbing in the light of day. The conversation of last night repeated in her head. Joss had claimed her as he’d promised, but he had ulterior motives. She was certain of it. Bringing her back here was meant to draw out Lupien. No doubt Joss wanted to kill him before going back to New York. Until she knew Erwan was safe, she wasn’t going anywhere. Erwan was doing a good job of hiding, maybe staying on the move by island hopping, but Joss had a team on his side, and that team was resourceful.

Her thoughts stilled when he stirred, and when his cock grew hard against her hip, her mouth went dry. He opened his eyes to stare at her, his silver gaze assessing. Stubble darkened his jaw. He looked hot and delicious, and where their bodies touched his skin was warm, but she shouldn’t forget the heart beating in his chest was cold.

“Rest well?” he asked in a voice still gruff from sleep.

She shrugged. She’d been tossing and turning for most of the night.

He caught a strand of her hair between his fingers. “Hungry?”

Actually, “Starving.”

A smile curved his lips. “I was a terrible husband, dragging you straight into my cave without feeding you first.”

He was baiting her with humor, but she was in no mood to make light of their situation or accept the peace offering. She had no smile to return, no white flag. This was still war. “I was too nervous to eat anyway.”

At the nervous part, a shutter dropped in front of his eyes. He let her hair slip through his fingers and got to his feet. Like last night, she couldn’t help but stare as he faced her in all his naked and aroused glory. He didn’t seem uncomfortable standing in front of her without as much as a fig leaf. As much as she hated him, she envied his confidence.

“If you give me a few minutes, I’ll throw something together,” he said, pulling clothes from his bag on the floor.

She lifted herself up on one elbow, shivering when the covers fell away. Damn, it was cold in here. “Don’t you have to do grocery shopping before you can cook?”

“The company who set up everything else stocked up with food. How does an omelet sound?”

She was reluctant to take more from him than absolutely necessary, but she was faint with hunger. “Eggs are good.”

He walked to the bathroom and paused in the frame. “I’ll take you to the cottage after breakfast.”

Gripping the covers to her chest, she sat up. “Really?”

His tone was curt. “Yes.”

Before she could say more, he closed the door.

The cottage. Her animals. Throwing one of the blankets around her, she padded to the bag and grabbed a dress. When Joss exited, dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie with his hair hanging loose around his face, she escaped to the bathroom to do her own grooming. The wool dress had a tartan motif, not something she would’ve chosen for herself, but paired with a jacket it was warm enough. She walked back into an empty room, fitting her boots before going downstairs in search of the food Joss had promised.

She followed the sounds of cutlery and crockery that came from the terrace. After a wrong turn, she found the doors that gave access to the terrace from a large hall.

He looked up from setting a table when she exited. “I hope you don’t mind. The inside is as cold as the outside. The central heating system needs to be replaced. At least here we have a better view.”

The view was spectacular. The flat surface of the lake shone like a mirror while the forest glistened moss-green in the weak December sun. Even with the neglected garden it made a pretty setting.

She sat down in the chair Joss pulled out for her. “Why did you never have it restored?”

“I didn’t have the financial means when I left for New York,” he said, taking the seat next to her, “and not for another few years thereafter. Even if I had the money, I’m not sure I’d want to live here.”

“Yet here we are.”

The set of his mouth turned hard. “It’s temporary.”

She studied him. “You still haven’t told me why you brought me here.”

His eyes were cold, their color like the frosted clouds over the lake, but he made an effort to smile. “Come here.” Taking her hand, he pulled her from her seat and onto his lap. When she shivered, he draped a blanket from the back of the chair over her shoulders. “Better?”