Joss knew what Cain was saying. He had a special affection for Joss, stronger than what he felt for any of the others. Joss’s capacity to lead had won him the position in his team, but an unspoken bond had secured a connection between Cain and him. However Cain was dedicated to the greater good of their mission, and he wouldn’t hesitate, not blink an eye, if he had to eliminate Joss.
Joss tensed further. “I’ll do what’s right.”
Cain smiled. “That’s a word that doesn’t exist in your vocabulary.”
“It’s just found its way in.” Strangely.
Joss left the yacht with Cain’s grant of another couple of days to secure Erwan. After that, he had to hand Clelia over and let Cain do it his way. If Cain had to tie her to a tree in the middle of the woods to bring out the wolves, he would. Joss had to find the old man before that happened. It was only a matter of time before they’d sniff him out. He just prayed he’d be the one to do it. If Erwan got hurt, Clelia would never forgive him, and for some reason that bothered him. He’d already done her enough harm. He didn’t want to pile up the sins. Besides, Clelia had no one else. He couldn’t be the reason she was left alone in the world.
Chapter 11
The closer Joss got to the house of his childhood, the faster he drove. It was dark. He’d stayed away too long, not that it could’ve been helped. He surveyed the surroundings with a practiced eye to ensure he wasn’t being followed. His scalp pricked with unease. Clelia was safe—the remote device he carried in his pocket would’ve alarmed him if any of the sensors he’d placed on the windows and doors had been disturbed—but for some reason he was eager to get back to her.
He parked the van in the garage that stood away from the house, grabbed his parcels, and closed the roller door so the vehicle wasn’t visible from the road. On the dark steps of the porch, he paused. The old memories assaulted him anew, squeezing his ribcage like the ivy tentacles that strangled the walls. It was the one safe place no one would dare to come. Except…
Damn him. He never considered the one thing that wouldn’t be repulsed by this place. Evil. The thought was frightening. Only evil would search out this birth ground of the devil, and he had an angel tied up inside as bait.
His plan wasn’t genius, but it was the only one he had. Between evil and good, he didn’t know which one would come for her first, his own or Lupien’s people, but he had no doubt someone would come. It was inevitable. He knew it with a certainty he’d never felt. He hadn’t admitted it to Cain, but in his gut he felt the truth of the words his boss had uttered. It had started. It was a pebble in the pond, and the ripples had to follow.
He grimaced at the thoughts that rooted in his mind, as if a magic seed had been sown many years ago to sprout after years of watering had matured it for this moment. He tasted the memory of Clelia’s blood on his palate as he unlocked and secured the door behind him before taking the stairs two by two.
He stopped in the doorframe of his old bedroom. He’d left the light on so she wouldn’t be scared. The washed-out glow dispelled the darkness, but not the shadows. She was lying on her side, facing the wall. She didn’t make a sound when he dropped the bags and approached the bed. She wasn’t sleeping. From the way her ribs didn’t expand, she was holding her breath. He trailed his gaze from her cut feet to the fresh bruises on her pale arms. Those had to be from when he tackled her to the floor. The skin around her wrists was inflamed, a tell-tale sign she’d struggled in her constraints. If only there was another way.
He made quick work of unlocking the handcuffs. “I told you not to pull.”
Keeping her eyes closed, she refused to acknowledge him.
“Come,” he said, pulling her into a sitting position. “Do you need the bathroom?”
When she didn’t answer, he put her on her feet and moved her in that direction. After pushing her inside, he closed the door behind her for privacy. He waited a good few minutes before he knocked, got the silence he expected, and opened the door. She sat on the closed lid of the toilet with a closed-off expression.
“I brought food,” he said. “You need to eat.”
She didn’t move, not that her defiance surprised him. Taking her shoulders, he guided her back to the room and made her sit on the bed where she stayed quietly while he unpacked sandwiches and bottles of water on the desk.
He lifted the bag he’d packed onto the bed. “I fetched some of your clothes. You can dress after eating. I’m sure you’ll feel better wearing things that fit.” He held out a sandwich to her.
She shook her head. Watching him from under her lashes, she asked, “How are my animals?”
The small zoo had surprised him. “I’m lucky your wolves didn’t rip me apart.”
She lifted her eyes quickly. “Are they all right?”
“They’re fine.”
“They’re my family,” she said, fixing him with a narrowed look.
He understood the warning. He shouldn’t mess with her dogs. “Where did you find such a pack of vicious wolves?”
She scoffed. “They’re not wolves. They’re hybrids. Hunters shot their mother. I found them as I was taking a shortcut to work one day. They would’ve died out there alone.”
“You take a lot of helpless beings in, don’t you?” When she didn’t reply, he said, “At least you had protection, seeing that you didn’t follow my advice.”
She blinked. “What advice?”
“Not to wander alone in the woods. I’m sure they’d keep any Iwigs at bay.”
“You remember that,” she said, sounding horrified.
“You rather hoped I wouldn’t?”
The words rushed from her lips. “I didn’t spy on you.”
Ah. The little witch was shy about him knowing the truth. She needn’t bother. Her fascination was nothing to be ashamed about. Despite what he’d said in anger, her infatuation had been innocent.
“Did you love her?” she asked.
Her words jolted him back to the present. “Who?”
“Thiphaine.”
The question came as a surprise. “Why do you ask?”
“It looked…” She swallowed. “Intense.”
He thought about it, considered lying for a moment, but he didn’t want to sugarcoat the truth. “Those girls meant nothing.”
Instead of judgment, her big, chocolate-colored eyes filled with sadness. “You used them.”
He shrugged. “I was young and ignorant. I’m not proud of who I was.”
Her voice turned bitter. “Meaning you’ve changed?”
“In some ways.” Or maybe not, judging from what had happened last night.
“Why did you do it?”
“Why was I promiscuous?” He thought for a moment. “Sex was a way of forgetting.”
“Your past?”
“Who I am. What I am.” It was easy to be honest with her, maybe because of their shared backgrounds. Anyway, she already knew the worst. Everyone in town knew.
“Is that why you were drinking last night?”
“Why do you care?”
She rubbed her hands over her arms. “I don’t.” Then she added more to herself than to him, “Not anymore.”
Right. It was cute that she’d had a crush on him, but it was better she saw him for who he was. He studied her, the big, round eyes, the beautiful pout of her lips, and the delicate shape of her face. “The question we should be asking is who are you?” They were running out of time. “Who was your mother, Cle? Has Erwan told you anything about your mother that could be connected to the fires?”
“I need to go home.” Despite the quiver in her voice, her words came out strong. “I need to take care of my animals.”
“You know you can’t go home.”
Tears made her eyes glitter.
Ah, hell. His armor wasn’t strong enough for her tears. “I’ll feed them. They won’t starve.”
She looked at her hands, hiding her expression behind a cascade of hair.
Traumatizing her wasn’t
the way he wanted to go. It wasn’t helping either of them. He crouched down to put them on eye level and brushed her hair behind her ear so he could see her eyes. They were wide in her pale face.
“Do I scare you?” he asked.
She looked away. “Sometimes.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
Her gaze snapped to his. “Erwan will never come for me.”
“Never is a long time.”
“You’re wasting your time.”
“I think you underestimate your grandfather’s love for you.”
“You don’t understand.” She leaned away from him. “He won’t come because he knows I’d never want him to.”
He sighed. Maybe he should try a different angle. “Tell me about your father.”
Her features tightened. “There’s nothing to say about him.”
The little witch was hiding something. “You never tried to find him?”
“No,” she said through thin lips.
“Because he abandoned you?”
She balled her hands into fists. “I don’t care about that. I don’t need him. I never did and never will.”
“Why?” he asked, poking at something that carried all the signs of an unhealed wound. “Because you can’t forgive him or you want to punish him for not being there for you?”
“Because he raped my mother,” she said in a raised voice.
Shock turned him to stone. It was the last thing he’d expected. Katik’s scandalous pregnancy had been blamed on a holiday romance. She’d carried the brunt of the community all on her own.
In the awkward silence that followed, he straightened. He grappled for words, but all he could come up with was, “What a fucking bastard.”
She uttered a wry laugh. “I’m the bastard.”
A product of rape. “You shouldn’t look at yourself like that.”
“How should I?” she challenged.
As the beautiful woman she’d grown into, someone who took care of abandoned animals and protected her grandfather. Something stirred in his chest. It felt a lot like compassion. He knew how hard it was to be an outcast in this town. It was easier pretending to be a rebel.
“It wasn’t your fault.” The words were lame, but he couldn’t think of anything else to make the wrongs of her life better. “Erwan will come.”
He walked to the shuttered window. The view that lay beyond was burned into his memory. So was the girl who’d stand in the dark road at night, thinking he didn’t see her. Sometimes, he stayed out longer, smoked another cigarette he didn’t want just to keep her there for another few minutes. It was selfish to have fed his ego like that. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone—he hardly admitted it to himself—but being admired and adored was a drug to his lacking self-esteem. If he’d known then what he knew now, how dangerous the world was, he’d never have allowed her to risk her safety like that.
Giving himself a mental shake, he pushed away the memories and turned back to find her studying him. He pointed at the food on the desk. “Eat.”
When she didn’t react, his shoulders slouched with a sigh. He was weary from a long night’s drinking and little sleep. The shooting incident and subsequent meeting with Cain didn’t help. His eyelids were heavy. He pushed his thumbs against his eyes, forcing himself to stay awake and stand guard when all he wanted to do was collapse on the bed.
“Do you want to change?” he asked at long length.
She nodded.
“You have two minutes.”
She took the bag he’d left on the bed to the bathroom and closed the door.
What was he going to do if Erwan didn’t come? He wouldn’t have a choice but to hand Clelia over. Once she was in Cain’s hands, there would be nothing Joss could do to ensure her safety. He hoped to God it wouldn’t come to that. Before the two days Cain had granted him were over, he’d better find a clue or evidence pointing him in some direction.
Clelia returned wearing a white pair of shorts and a T-shirt. When he nodded toward the bed, she lay down and held her wrists out to him. He didn’t want to cuff her again, but he couldn’t let her escape if he dozed off.
Before cuffing her to the bedpost, he took bandages from the medicine kit he’d brought back from the boat and bandaged her wrists. Then he put an ointment on the cuts on her knees and feet. A hostage was a precious commodity after all. One had to take care of one’s bargaining chip. At least, that was what he told himself.
“Do you need another painkiller?” he asked when he was done.
Her answer was to turn her back on him as much as the handcuffs allowed. Blowing out another long sigh, he took his place in the chair, guarding her in silence.
Chapter 12
When Joss’s breathing changed to an even rhythm, Clelia dared turning to watch his sleeping form. The lines around his mouth were carved deep. His straight nose and strong jaw gave him a harsh look. He was attractive in a dark and rakish way. His beauty was the troubled kind. Even in this relaxed state, his closed eyes moved restlessly, giving him a tormented air. His long lashes twitched.
She shifted to relieve the ache in her arms, making the mattress creak. He grumbled, the timbre of his voice gravelly. An instinctive, irrational part of her wanted to thread her fingers through his thick hair and soothe his restless sleep. It was the part of her who’d always been in love with him, but it was a girlish love that didn’t fit their twisted, adult situation.
Frowning, he mumbled unintelligible words. Whatever he was dreaming, it wasn’t a good dream.
“Joss,” she whispered.
His eyes flung open, wide and angry, every muscle in his body poised for attack. She cringed. Was he going to pounce on her? Then recognition set in and his body slumped in the chair.
He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Do you need something? Are you thirsty?”
“You were dreaming.”
“Sorry I woke you.”
“I wasn’t sleeping.” She hesitated. She shouldn’t open up to him, shouldn’t ask, but she couldn’t help herself. The torment of her own repetitive dream was still too fresh. “Is it always the same?”
“The dream?”
She nodded.
He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes. “I haven’t had it for a very long time, not since I’m back.”
Her heart squeezed. There was only one nightmare connected to this town that Joss could be having. Even if he was her enemy, she was too intimately acquainted with the details not to empathize with him. “I’m sorry about your family.”
He stiffened, his eyes hardening. “I don’t need your pity.”
“It’s called compassion.”
“Save it for someone who needs it.”
Why did he have to be such an ass? “If it’s so bad, why did you bring me here?”
Something shifted in his eyes. “You know where we are?”
“Of course I do.” She tilted her head toward the wall. “It’s hard to miss that the room is round.”
His voice softened. “You must’ve been scared out of your mind.”
“A little,” she admitted. “It’s my first time inside the house.”
Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees. “Why didn’t you say something? I wouldn’t have left you alone if I’d realized you knew you were in a spook house.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” she said, repeating his earlier words.
He uttered a cold laugh. “Which watered-down version did they tell you? If you’d known the truth, the whole truth, you wouldn’t say that.”
“You were just a boy.”
He worked his jaw for a moment before scoffing. “You don’t know anything.”
“Then tell me.”
“Fuck,” he said under his breath, and then to himself, “That’s what you get for coming home to people who know you.” Addressing her again, “You have to rest. Try to catch some sleep.”
“You brought me here.” She was playing dirty, using his exhaustion to wear him
down. She was sticking her finger into an open cut and twisting it around, but he’d pressed a thumb on her bruises too. “You owe me the truth.”
“If I’d known you knew, I never would’ve left you here.” He added, “Alone. Now go back to sleep.”
“Did it happen here, in this room? Is that why you’re keeping me here?”
He stood abruptly. “Do you think I’m fucking nuts?” Turning slightly so that his profile was hidden from her, he rested his hands on his hips and exhaled through his nose. When he spoke again, his voice was calm. Emotionless. “You haven’t eaten all day. I’ll make you something more appetizing than a supermarket sandwich. Do you like sushi?”
“I’m not eating. Not until you tell me.”
He rubbed a hand over his brow. “Why are you doing this?”
Why indeed? It wasn’t her job to heal him. His suffering wasn’t her responsibility. She shouldn’t worry about his feelings.
When she didn’t reply, he moved to her side and uncuffed her.
She lowered her arms with relief, then winced. Shit, that hurt.
“Sore?” he asked, studying her too closely for her liking.
She looked away. Part of the problem was that she was still in love with the complicated boy. Joss was a man now, and she couldn’t reconcile the man with the boy. Neither could she cut a lifetime’s fixation from her heart in a single day.
She jumped when he touched her arm.
“I said I won’t hurt you, Cle.”
The memory of the previous night flashed through her mind as the warmth of his palm seeped into her skin. In an involuntary response, her body heated. She wanted to push him away and hate him, but she couldn’t help but close her eyes. His touch was innocent, nothing but a massage to alleviate the ache in her muscles and aid the blood flow, but it felt like crossing a line. The man wasn’t the boy. The boy was mysterious, wrapped up in pain and darkness. The man was a threat, his darkness much more dangerous. He was her enemy, and he wouldn’t hesitate to kill her.
She pulled away.
He froze, then dropped his hands to his sides. “I wouldn’t have handcuffed you if it wasn’t necessary.”
Pyromancist SECOND EDITION: Art of Fire (7 Forbidden Arts Book 1) Page 10