Pyromancist

by Charmaine Pauls

  “And what is that?”

  “There is only one right and one wrong in the world. I don’t deal in shades of gray.”

  “You’re talking in circles.”

  “Josselin took an oath when he was appointed as leader of this task force. He has promised to protect the force and the good it stands for. Josselin is a tormented soul. I sense in you the healing that could set him free, but if you have, or are going to, turn dark, it will force Josselin to make an impossible choice.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “No? Consider my words when the time comes. When you’re in the grip of evil and there’s no way out, set Josselin free. If you love him, you won’t make him choose.”

  “Choose what?”

  “Between you and what he protects.”

  “Between me and good?”

  “If you prefer to put it like that.”

  “That makes me bad, evil?”

  “I don’t know. The change has begun, but the wheel has only just started turning. At this point in time, not even you can know how you will turn.”

  “You think I’m capable of...”

  “No one knows what they’re capable of, until the right circumstances set it in motion.”

  Without giving her a chance to reply, he picked up a paper from the table and handed it to her.

  Clelia took it reluctantly. “What’s this?”

  “The psychological evaluation we did on Josselin when I decided to take him into my team.”

  Clelia frowned. “Why are you showing me this?”

  “Read it.”

  Her eyes glanced over the text.

  In conclusion, the test results point to a highly sensitive man who is by the same token perceptive, intuitive, and particularly emotional. He successfully manages to keep his volatile emotions under control, to the point of appearing calm and reserved. Nevertheless, he is characterized by a certain dualism, between sociability, and altruism.

  She looked up. “I already know all of this.”

  “Read on,” he urged.

  ...eccentric ... a curious mix of independence and dependence ... rejects accepted truths. Inclined to be introverted, he is shy and vulnerable, we are guessing due to childhood trauma.

  “What point are you trying to make?” she asked.

  “That passion could lead someone with Josselin’s disposition, without prior warning, onto a road of fanaticism.” He waited for the meaning of his words to sink in. “I want you to know who you’re dealing with.” His voice softened. “Who you’re falling in love with. If you start loving him, you can’t stop. You can’t reverse your decision once you get to know him, and I mean really know him. It’ll kill him.”

  “Are you telling me to love him, or leave him?”

  “I’m asking you to love him enough to eliminate yourself, or to let us do it, if you turn dark.”

  Clelia opened her mouth, but Josselin entered the lounge, his long hair flying in the wind just before he shut the door. For a minute, the Earth stopped moving as Clelia locked eyes with him.

  “Clelia, may I please have a moment with Josselin?” Cain said.

  She walked to the door, and as she passed Josselin, he lifted his fingers and let them brush over her hand. It was a whisper of a touch, an almost undetectable movement of his hand, less than an inch in physical distance, unnoticeable to the unwatchful eye, but in Clelia’s world, it was powerful enough to change the direction of currents. Electricity flowed between them, setting fireworks off in her tummy, a fluttering echo of her earlier orgasm. Nothing in Josselin’s demeanor betrayed his feelings. He only lowered his head and lifted his iron hard eyes to trap hers, to wrestle in looks that reflected a recognized fate, tinted by uncertainty. For a second, she recalled the shape of his body as it had pressed into hers, and then he turned from her and the feeling was gone again. Cold.

  She closed the door behind her and pressed her back against it, trying to bite back her tears. She loved Erwan. She owed him. She could never betray him for trying to protect her, no matter what. And she loved Josselin. Josselin, the dark, tortured hunter who came for a criminal and found her. Was she the angel he called her, or the demon he was trying to protect the world from, the demon he mistakenly saw himself as?

  No matter what he said about knowing she was innocent, Clelia felt a new power growing inside of her. Cain knew it, too. A sudden, unexplainable affinity for fire had found a home in her heart. She longed for flames, long tongues of red passion and heat. She knew beyond a doubt that she was changing, and that it was inevitable. As Cain had said, the wheel had started turning. The pebble had been dropped. How would Josselin react when he found out she was turning into a firestarter? In that moment, Cain’s statement became crystal clear. Josselin was incredibly gentle and kind to her. Maya was right; their attraction was undeniable. She could never place Josselin in the position of choosing between protecting or killing her. She had seen his reaction to accidently leaving marks on her skin. He would never forgive himself if he had to destroy her to protect what he stood for, what Cain stood for.

  She shuddered in the midday heat as the truth dawned on her. The boat had slowed down. As it came to a halt and the noise of the engines died, Cain’s voice drifted to her through the open lounge window.

  “I believe you, Josselin, and what you say about her blood. But I sense something, something very profound. When it surfaces, it will be powerful. You have to tell me now if you can remain objective enough to complete your mission. Can you eliminate her if you have to?”

  “I’ll do what’s right,” Josselin said.

  Clelia swallowed the sob that threatened to escape and backed away from the door. Maya suddenly appeared in her line of sight.

  “I have to take you to your cabin. The boat has stopped.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” a voice said behind them.

  Clelia flung around to see Josselin standing in the door of the lounge.

  “I’ll take her,” he said, sounding cold and hot and everything confusing in between.

  “Cain won’t like it,” Maya said, “but who am I to challenge what you’ve marked as yours?”

  “I haven’t marked anything,” Josselin gritted out.

  Maya snorted. “Like hell. But if it makes you happy, just go on believing that.”

  She turned on her heel and left them.

  “Come,” Josselin said with a tilt of his head.

  He took Clelia’s arm and led her below deck, almost shoving her into the cabin before slamming the door behind them.

  “Do you like Bono?” he said. “I know he’s hard to resist. Pilot. Good looks. Women go crazy over him. Is he what you’re looking for?”

  Taken aback by his sudden outburst, Clelia only blinked at him.

  “I saw the way he looked at you. And I saw the way you smiled at him.”

  “And exactly how did I smile at him?”

  “Like you shouldn’t,” he bit out. “A man might get the wrong idea. Men are terribly stupid that way.”

  “We didn’t look at each other in any way, Joss.”

  “Josselin,” he said harshly.

  “Josselin.”

  In a flash, he held her, his arms behind her back, his hands on the curve of her buttocks.

  “I didn’t like it, Clelia, how he looked at you,” he said, sounding like a predator again.

  “And how did he look at me? Like a future lover?”

  He released her abruptly, almost causing her to stumble.

  “Isn’t that what you said, Josselin? That you were saving me for my future lover?” She allowed the hurt she felt at Josselin’s rejection to filter into her voice. How could he save her as he claimed he wanted, if he was supposed to kill her?

  His eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched, and then he turned on his heel and slammed the door shut. She heard the key turn.

  Clelia stared at the door, not making sense of anything.

  * * * *

  When
she woke, it was Maya who stood in the cabin. It was hot inside, and a welcome breeze came through the open door.

  “You were sleeping, so I didn’t wake you for dinner. You skipped lunch. You must be starving.”

  Clelia rubbed her eyes and sat up. “What time is it?”

  “Past eight. The others and I have eaten. I saved you a plate. It’s confit de canard, Bono’s favorite.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “The effect of the tranquilizer should have worn off by now. If you still don’t have an appetite, I may have to get a doctor to have a look at you. And you should know that Josselin is like a caged lion. He threatens to spoon-feed you after forcing an appetite enhancer down your throat.”

  Clelia guessed her loss of hunger had more to do with her emotional state than any biological side effect. Only the words she had overhead Cain say to Josselin gave her the courage to try and force food down her throat. She had to build her strength.

  She followed Maya to the dining room table in the lounge where a place was set for one. Besides the two of them, the room was empty. Maya disappeared into the adjoining kitchen and returned with a plate of food that she set in front of Clelia.

  “Feel free to grab anything from the kitchen anytime you want,” Maya said. “I’ve got some admin work to do, reports and shit. Will you be all right, or do you prefer company?”

  “I’m fine. Thank you.”

  Left alone, Clelia ate, even if she didn’t taste a thing. The food was warm, but she couldn’t tell if it was tasty or not. Maya had left a glass of milk as if Clelia were a child, so she drank it like the good girl she was expected to be.

  “If you’d rather have a glass of wine, I’ll pour you one,” Josselin said from the door.

  Clelia jumped her heart in her throat. Too lost in thought, she hadn’t heard him enter. She watched him warily as he crossed the floor. Why should he always be able to read her mind, when he was as closed as a clam?

  “Well?” he said, stopping short of her.

  “No, thank you.”

  “I’m glad you’re eating.” He crossed his arms. “I was about to force-feed you.”

  She looked down at her plate, not knowing what to say.

  Josselin pulled out the chair next to her and sat down. “There’s something I need to explain to you.”

  The seriousness and vulnerability in his voice made her lift her eyes.

  “Because of what my father did to my mother, I cannot stand anyone maliciously hurting someone, especially someone not their equal in size or strength. What Iwig did to you that day in the forest drove me close to murder. When I saw that Maya had hit you, I almost deported her back to head office. What I did to you,” he stared at her neck, “is the worst. And when I saw Bono’s hands on you today, I saw you defenseless and frail and at any man’s mercy.”

  She swallowed. So much of Josselin didn’t make sense to her, but she should have known that his difficult childhood would have shaped him as such.

  “You’re a good man,” she said softly, “or you wouldn’t have cared.”

  “I’m not good, Clelia, but I bitterly disapprove of what my father made us suffer.”

  She shook her head. “Please, stop suffering, Josselin. I hate to hear you like this. It wasn’t your fault.”

  His face turned back into a mask, and Clelia felt the strain of loving a man like Josselin.

  * * * *

  Josselin stared at her and fought more than his demons. He fought the agonizing hard-on in his pants. She was so fucking beautiful. He wanted to apologize to her for his behavior, but he couldn’t stand it when she was being so kind to him, so accepting. Needing to change the subject he said, “I think I’ll have a glass of wine after all. Will you join me?”

  She looked injured. “No, thank you.”

  “Are you sure?” he said, keeping his voice even. “It’s an excellent bouquet, 2005 Château Barreyres. I had forgotten how good French wine is.”

  “You seemed to have forgotten a lot about your home,” she said.

  When he met her gaze, she bravely held his.

  “I wanted to forget many things,” he said, “but ironically, they wouldn’t let me.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, her pretty eyes suddenly big. “I didn’t mean to...”

  He couldn’t help himself as he reached out to wipe her hair from her face. “I didn’t forget you, Clelia. Ever.”

  He saw her beautiful almond eyes widening further, so ghostly black that the color of her irises couldn’t be distinguished from her pupils.

  “I did notice you, Clelia, even if you were only a child. I tried not to, as God is my witness, but you were so pretty, so innocent, so damn untouchable.”

  “Joss–”

  “No, don’t tell me not to say it, because I know you want to hear it. It was you I thought of, when I fucked all those girls, your sweet face I saw in the moment of my release, and in the agony of my dreams.”

  “No, please, Josselin, I can’t bear to hear it.”

  He ignored her plea, desperate to hear his own confession. “It was you I craved, but you were just a child, Clelia, and even now that you’re a woman ... a man like me, how I would spoil you.”

  She jumped up, her small breasts heaving. “Please, I don’t want to hear this.”

  He placed his body against hers, felt her nipples brush his chest with every breath she took.

  “Do I repulse you so?” he said.

  “No, Josselin don’t you understand? It hurts to hear about you and all those other women.”

  “Clelia,” he said, his heart squeezing, “they meant nothing.”

  “You’re right,” she said, her eyes brimming with tears, “it means nothing because there isn’t anything between us. Nothing at all. You said so yourself.”

  It wasn’t his hand that shook, but his heart, as he reached out and touched the smooth skin under the curve of her collarbone. Instead of laying his palm on her, he limited the contact to the tip of his finger, tracing the strap of her top that cut a black line across the elegant arch between her neck and shoulder. He felt and saw the shiver that he had ignited, faint and delegate like the goose bumps that broke out over her skin, but it was the fluttering of her eyelashes, the dainty dip of a butterfly’s wings, that made him withdraw his hand. He had no right to blacken her with his savage craving, but God knows, he wanted her so badly he could almost taste the iron cocktail of her blood on his pallet and damn him to hell for his lust.

  An invisible force between them pulled and pushed a cord that roped him in and then gave way. He wanted her so badly it hurt, but he loved her too much to ruin her.

  “I needed you to know that,” he said, turning, but she took his hand.

  “Show me, Josselin. Show me what you’ve just told me. Show me what you did with those women, what I’ve never dared to imagine.”

  She didn’t know what she was asking. He allowed the sweetness of it to infuse him before he pushed the impossible thought from his mind.

  “I’ve had many women, but I’ve never taken a virgin. I won’t take your innocence.”

  “This is ludicrous. Don’t you know that I’ve waited for you?”

  “You had a fixation–but you were only a child. Now you’re a woman, Clelia, and you should know better.”

  “And who should I ask to be my first?”

  He couldn’t stand the words, didn’t want to hear them, but forced himself to say, “Someone worthy of you.”

  When she turned away from him, he said, “I’ll take you back to the cabin, and then I’ll call for Maya. She’ll stay with you.”

  “Why? Why can’t you touch me? Is it because you’ll feel bad for killing me afterward, or that you may actually feel something and are scared that you won’t be able to follow out your orders?”

  It was like a slap in his face. “I told you, I won’t hurt you.”

  He couldn’t. Ever. The fight he fought daily to win over his darkness, to maintain the good he had left,
would be meaningless if anything happened to her. He knew it suddenly, and clearly. Clelia was a part of him that had started long ago. He could as little harm her as he could forgive himself for the death of his family.

  “Show me, Josselin. Or do you want me to beg?”

  When he didn’t speak or move, she took the lead, pulling him behind her from the lounge, over the deck and down to her cabin. She closed the door behind them and lay down on the bed, watching him with her big, inviting eyes.

  “You started this,” she said, “now I expect you to finish it.”

  She was too fucking brave for her own good. Just a kiss. He was just going to taste her lips, her skin, her pureness. That’s what he told himself as he moved toward her and sat down on the bed.

  She lifted her arms and pulled the top over her head, exposing her soft skin and the perfect mounds of her breasts under the black cotton bra with the cute lace trimming he had packed. Arching to him, she took his hand and guided it to her heart, placing his palm over the beat. It mirrored the erratic rhythm of his own heart.

  “Make the yearning stop,” she said.

  “I can’t make it stop, Clelia.”

  “Then take it away.”

  He closed his eyes when he kissed her, because he couldn’t look into hers without seeing her loveliness and her innocence. He knew he would be a monster for stealing it. He kissed caresses like butterflies over her eyes, her nose, her lips, and her chin, tasting the skin of her throat and tracing the line of her shoulder with his tongue. Only the fact that she remained still, not showing any signs of excitement, kept him from stopping. He would worship her body, but he had no intention of taking her virginity, and he wasn’t going to punish her with making her want to the point of no return.

  When he lifted his head, she said, “No. More,” so he kissed the upper curve of her breasts where they pushed up from her bra. He traced her cleavage with his tongue. Not daring to wander toward the peaks that would be his undoing, he traced a line with his finger around each under-curve. He longed to pull the soft skin into his mouth, to feather his tongue around each nipple before sucking hard, biting down softly, and massaging her to a climax with his mouth. He had done that with women before, but none of them had mattered, as he now tasted the delicate bird, ignoring his need to set her on fire with his hands and his fingers.