Pyromancist

by Charmaine Pauls

  He wanted to be her first, and God knows, her last. He’d kill the man who so much as looked at her. Yes, he was burning for her, but he’d rather burn in hell than watch her go up in flames with him because of his selfish lust. He gave her a last, gentle kiss on her tummy and took her hands that had slipped to his hair, placing them firmly beside her body on the bed.

  She looked at him with big eyes. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m preventing you from doing something you’ll regret.”

  She shook her head. “I want this.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  Her eyes flared. “You don’t know what I do and don’t want.”

  “There’s a theory in captor-captive psychology about the captive developing a sexual fixation on the captor. It’s a way of dealing with the trauma.”

  “You can’t seriously imply that I’m suffering from a psychological fixation. Is that why you think I want to sleep with you?”

  “It doesn’t really matter why you think you want to sleep with me. It’s not going to happen.”

  He got up and stared down at her. He wanted to stay, but he could not find the strength to keep his hands off her. Not for a whole night.

  “Good night, little witch.”

  Instead of looking at him, she covered her face with her arm, hiding her eyes from him. He noticed the red marks with regret, damage he had done in the name of love and war, where everything was supposed to be fair. Only, life didn’t work like that.

  He closed the door quietly and went upstairs. As he rounded the control room on the upper deck, he noticed Bono leaning against the lounge wall, smoking a cigar.

  “Not staying the night?” Bono said, puffing smoke up into the air.

  “Shut up, Bono, or you’ll get that cigar where you deserve it.”

  Josselin stayed up late, and when he finally went to his cabin, he stopped at her door and listened, but all was quiet. Only the sound of the sea lapping at the yacht kept the silence at bay.

  Chapter Twelve

  “You can’t keep on circling in the Gulf,” Clelia said. “At some point you have to admit this is pointless.”

  She sat in the Jacuzzi on the deck with Maya. The boat was motionless. Maya had fetched her for breakfast and Clelia had noticed with no little disappointment that Josselin had gone. He was nowhere to be seen. Then, as if they were on holiday, Maya had told her, or rather instructed her, to put on her bathing suit so that Maya could ‘babysit’ her in the Jacuzzi. Josselin hadn’t packed one, so Clelia had to wear one of Maya’s bikinis, and looking at the red fabric covering meager parts of her body, it was clear where Clelia’s curves were lacking.

  “Not so pointless when it ensures our safety,” Maya said, obviously in her element in the water.

  “Someone can shoot at you even on a boat.”

  Maya laughed softly. “That wasn’t the safety I was referring to.”

  “What were you referring to?”

  “We’re on water. It’s the best counter defense for fire,” Maya said, lifting her brow.

  “You mean if someone sets the boat on fire,” Clelia said, feeling anxious and frightened.

  Maybe the fact that they locked her in at night was a blessing. If she sleepwalked, she couldn’t go farther than her cabin door. It suddenly occurred to her that she hadn’t been dreaming since Josselin had kidnapped her. Not that she had slept much since the ordeal. No more fires had been started, either...

  Clelia reflected for a moment. On the morning that Josselin had landed on the jetty in a helicopter and taken her hostage, Maya had said that his presence was required at another fire on Île de la Jument. The island wasn’t that far. If she had walked in her sleep that night, in the early morning hours, she could have taken the dinghy, done it, and been back in her bed without even knowing. By the time she got to the harbor, the fire would have been discovered on the almost deserted island. It could have been her. Why did Erwan refuse to listen to her when she tried to warn him about her possible guilt? Even if the fires weren’t her doing, she still felt the changes stirring inside her. It called her, pulled at her. Something inside her was awakening, and it wanted out.

  A speedboat pulling a skier cruised past them. The man on the skis waved at them. Maya lifted a graceful hand, and the man’s face broke into a seductive smile.

  “Shouldn’t you avoid attracting attention, keep as inconspicuous as possible?” Clelia said.

  The speedboat turned and came around in another noisy semi-circle.

  Maya kept her eyes on the man in the wetsuit behind the boat. “I can’t help it if I stand out.”

  Clelia wished the boat would go play somewhere else and take its noise with it, but then an idea occurred to her. When the skier came past for the second round, closer to them this time, Clelia jumped up and waved her arms in the air.

  “Help!” she screamed as loud as she could.

  Instead of attacking her or seeming alarmed, Maya only snickered. To Clelia’s dismay, the man laughed and blew her a kiss.

  “Sit down,” Maya said, rolling her eyes. “He thinks you’re making a pass at him.”

  Clelia realized with a sagging heart that Maya was right. Maya wasn’t worried about the outburst because it seemed ridiculous to jump from a Jacuzzi on the deck of a luxury yacht and scream to be rescued. Any man would believe she was just coming on to him. She sat down slowly, defeated.

  “Looks like Erwan has abandoned you,” Maya said out of the blue.

  “I told you,” Clelia said with a desperate tone, “he’s innocent. That’s why keeping me on this boat that is literally turning in circles is pointless. Erwan doesn’t even know where I am. How could he ever come for me?”

  “Joss has planted enough clues for him. He’ll know.”

  “And if not?”

  “Then ... it depends on Joss.”

  “What depends on him?”

  Maya’s smile was suddenly a very good excuse for being tight-lipped.

  “You’re going to kill me. I heard Cain and Josselin talk,” Clelia said, the fear creeping into her veins again, making her go cold in the hot water of the tub.

  “Why be so gloomy?” Maya said. “Let’s rather enjoy the moment. Enjoy the sun. One minute at a time is a good motto for life.”

  Clelia imagined Josselin with the gun he had aimed at his head. Now it was pointed at her. How would he kill her? Would he strangle her? Shoot her? Drown her? A part of her couldn’t believe he would harm her. But she presumed that part of her to be her heart, and not her logical mind.

  The noise of the speedboat was like an elastic band pulling thin and then giving way, zooming in and out, but Clelia wasn’t watching its course any longer.

  “I would like to go to the cabin,” Clelia said. She needed to think, work out some kind of plan to keep herself and Erwan safe, and then figure out if she was indeed the one Josselin was after, the firestarter he had to destroy.

  Maya kicked water into the air with her toe. A tiny, black bikini that showed off her well-toned muscles adorned her curves. She shook drops of water from her dreadlocks and rested her elbows on the side of the tub.

  “May as well catch some sun while I have to sit here and watch your ass.” Her red lips tilted in a sensual way. “Or would you rather be handcuffed to Josselin’s bed?”

  Clelia looked away, already feeling the blush creep up her neck and face. “Where is he, anyway?” she said, not quite succeeding in sounding unaffected.

  “Your captor is in Vannes, shopping.”

  “Shopping?”

  “Our food has to come from somewhere.”

  Bono appeared from the lower deck. He strolled toward them and stretched. “I’m not made for water. I tried to lift some weights in the gym, but what I really need is a nice, long run. Preferably on solid ground.”

  Maya smiled up at him. “Missing your big, bad flying machine?”

  He cracked his knuckles. “You know me. I’m happiest in the air.”

  “In
case Josselin hasn’t properly introduced you,” Maya said to Clelia, “Bono is our helicopter pilot.” She turned back to Bono. “You could join us. Water’s nice.” Maya turned the jets up a notch.

  Bono chuckled. “And risk having my neck broken by her boyfriend?”

  “He’s not claiming her, so...” Maya fluttered her cat-like eyelashes.

  “No thanks.” Bono turned to Clelia. “No offence.”

  “In that case, be a sweetheart and fetch us ladies each a cocktail.”

  “Didn’t know we were allowed any while on duty. You know how Cain feels about that.”

  Maya snorted. “Make it a booze-free one, for God’s sake. But I want the umbrella and the cherry and all the fucking trimmings if I can’t have the alcohol.”

  Bono grinned. “You drive a hard bargain, Maya.”

  “Mmm. I drive a lot of things hard.”

  “Two virgin strawberry daiquiris coming up,” he said, laughing as he walked off.

  “I don’t get the lot of you,” Clelia said.

  Maya closed her eyes in a blissful gesture and tilted her face to the sun. “What’s there to get?”

  “You kidnap me, and now you serve me cocktails in a Jacuzzi. Is that how you treat all your hostages?”

  “Depends on the hostage.”

  “And what gives me special privileges?”

  Maya opened her eyes and looked at Clelia. “Josselin seems to be rather ... fond ... of you.”

  “Will his ‘fondness’ prevent him from killing me?” Clelia said, feeling the coldness from his absence and the knowledge of how doomed she was touching her heart anew.

  “No,” Maya said without missing a beat. “Not if you’re fencing for the wrong side. Joss will kill anything that’s evil.”

  Clelia swallowed. “Has he ... killed a lot?”

  “Only when necessary,” Maya said. “He’s a pain in the ass but he’s not bad. A bit tormented, but that adds to his charm, don’t you think?”

  Clelia wasn’t in the mood to discuss Josselin’s sexual appeal. She wanted to fill in the gaps since the time he had left town.

  Bono reappeared carrying two tall cocktail glasses decorated with all the edible and inedible accessories a bar could stock. He walked like a tightrope artist, concentrating hard not to spill a drop, and despite the situation, Clelia smiled. The designation of pink daiquiri mixer definitely didn’t fit the big, muscular man. He looked out of his depth, whereas Clelia could imagine him completely at ease with a helicopter’s cyclic in his hands.

  Maya took her drink and blew him a kiss. “You’re a honey. Thanks Bo.”

  He went down onto his haunches and handed Clelia hers. “I’m no good at this. I think it may lack some crushed ice.”

  “Thank you,” Clelia said, looking away shyly.

  It was then her eye caught Josselin’s, standing next to the steps, plenty of bags at his feet. He looked angry. Mad actually. He wore his signature leather pants and a black T-shirt that stretched over his chest, making Clelia catch her breath. With the noise of the speedboat, she hadn’t heard the motorboat arriving, and now she had the ridiculous feeling that she had been caught red-handed.

  Josselin’s eyes were fixed on her as he made his way over the ropes and necessary clutter on the deck, as light as a cat walking on cushioned paws, a stark contrast to Bono’s earlier performance.

  His shadow fell over her. Without turning his gaze away from her, he took the drink and left it on the wooden deck before reaching for a towel that was draped over a deckchair.

  “Get out,” he said.

  “Joss, give her a break, all right?” Maya said.

  He didn’t look at Maya. His gaze was intently directed on Clelia’s exposed flesh, his expression promising nothing good.

  The speedboat cruised past again, the skier making an impressive jump over the wake. Clelia cringed as the unsuspecting man blew a kiss in her direction again.

  Josselin’s face instantly turned to thunder. Clelia almost expected him to dive into the water and wring the other man’s neck, but he constrained himself with undisguised effort, the veins popping out in his neck.

  “Maya,” he said his voice cold, “do something about that fucking boat.”

  Maya didn’t hesitate. Even Maya, who didn’t seem easily affected by Josselin’s wrath, looked tense. She lifted her palm and flicked it sideways. In an instant, a small wave lifted from the water and ran toward the man behind the boat. When it hit him, it tossed him out of his skis. Clelia watched his surprised expression, and that of his friend who was steering the boat. Maya flicked her palm the other way, and another wave hit them from the opposite side.

  “Come get me!” she heard the man call to his friend in the boat. “Too many slipstreams.”

  The boat turned, engine idling, and in no time the skier was onboard. He waved one last time and Clelia almost exhaled with relief when they took off. She was so distracted by the trick Maya had played that she had almost forgotten about the very angry Josselin who now watched her with icy eyes.

  “Get out,” he said again.

  “Joss,” Maya said softly, “it was my idea. We were just cooling off a bit.”

  Without responding, Josselin extended his hand in a commanding gesture.

  Not daring to glance at either Maya or Bono, Clelia obeyed, getting to her feet and taking the hand he offered to help her over the edge. She stepped cautiously into the towel he held open for her.

  Only then did he turn to Bono. “Bring the bags in.” To Maya he said, “There are things that need to go in the fridge. See to it.”

  He took Clelia’s arm and guided her below deck.

  * * * *

  Josselin gritted his teeth as he led Clelia back to her cabin. Seeing her like that, almost naked, with Bono’s gaze undressing what wasn’t already exposed, had made him want to ground Bono for a year. After breaking his jaw. And his nose. And all his fingers. He didn’t dare to think of the idiot who had blown Clelia a kiss.

  Once inside, Josselin clicked the door shut. “Did you enjoy that?”

  “The Jacuzzi?”

  “No. The flirting with Bono and that wanker on the water.”

  “We weren’t flirting.”

  “Clelia, don’t you know what men think when they look at your body?”

  “Are you speaking for all men, Josselin, or with the exception of yourself?”

  He pulled his hands through his hair.

  “You kidnapped me, Josselin. I may be your hostage, but you don’t own me.”

  The statement was a sword through his stomach. Yes, it was true. He had made no claim on her. No man had. Not yet. She was free to choose whatever man she wanted to initiate her into the passions still locked in her body, to be a mate for her soul. He had no right to be jealous, or angry, or protective. The only right he had was to do his job, to catch a firestarter, and to prevent evil from claiming power, and he was doing a goddamn bad job.

  “When this is over...” he said, but then paused.

  What? When it was over, when they had their pyromancist, when the burning stopped, what then? He never wanted to let her go, but he couldn’t lock her up in a glass cage where no one could touch her. If he walked away from Cain, from his life, from the only thing he had left—fighting for the one thing he still believed in–would he be enough for her? Every day, he fought his demons. Every night, he wrestled with his dreams. Without Cain and the team to keep him on the straight and narrow, would the devil inside of him find his way out? And if it did, who would be safe? Would even Clelia be safe? If he inherited his father’s genes... He trembled.

  “What then?” Clelia said. “Will you kill me at Cain’s command?”

  “I will never harm you,” he said.

  Never. He would never let anything happen to her, even if it meant that he had to offer his soul to the devil and walk away from the life he had built, day by day, hour by painstaking hour, over the past nine years. He’d kill for her, but he wouldn’t lift a finger ag
ainst her. He would destroy himself, if it could save her.

  “What will you do when you find Erwan?” she said.

  He would bring him to Cain. They’d question him. They’d find the firestarter Lupien was after, and eliminate him to prevent such powerful magic from falling into the enemy’s hands. Surely, with time, Clelia would have to see that there was no other choice. But he didn’t say any of that. He didn’t tell her of the killer he was, as he kneeled at her feet.

  He moved the towel over her arms, her tummy, her thighs, and finally her feet. Looking up, he saw what he didn’t want to see in her eyes, the blossoming awakening. He didn’t want to see it because he knew that some man had to claim it. God, she took his breath away.

  He dropped the towel and moved his hands up her legs over her hips to rest on her waist. He could encircle her with his hands, his fragile bird.

  “I could worship your body forever, little witch,” he said, his voice hoarse.

  He recognized in her face, in the contraction of her skin under his hands, that she wanted him, and it amazed and confused him that someone like her could look at him like that.

  Her hands went to his hair, her fingers tracing the white strands that were a stark reminder of his past, her touch like the feathers on the tips of the wings of an angel. As he stared at her, she looked like a Madonna peering down at him, offering him redemption. He caught her wrists and kissed the skin on each one where his handcuffs had chafed it.

  “I never meant to do anything to hurt you,” he whispered.

  There was a loud knock on the door and then it opened abruptly into their moment, shattering the peace Josselin had glimpsed, had gotten a taste of, for just a second.

  Bono looked from Josselin, who was kneeling on the floor, to Clelia who stood in front of him, the towel draped at her feet as if she were a Greek statue, and cleared his throat.

  “Sorry, I brought this.”

  He dropped a shopping bag on the bed. He actually looked embarrassed, but he had the common sense to turn his head away from Clelia so as not as to look at her scantily clad body.