Pyromancist (Seven Forbidden Arts 1) - Page 95

He stared down at her, his eyes still dark with the earlier wildness. “You’re dangerous.”

Point proven, she sat down on her heels and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

Giving her a narrowed look, he straightened his clothes. His tone was taunting, angry almost. “Had much practice?”

She batted her eyelashes. “Only on you, stud.”

“Drop the act.” He pushed to his feet, towering over her. “I like you better as yourself.”

“Why, Joss, are you a bad loser?”

Clenching his jaw, he gripped her hand and pulled her up. His tone was cold, but regret rang in his voice. “It seems the only loser here is you, my sweet.”

“Admit it. You lost this round.”

His look sharpened on her face, and the regret she’d recognize earlier morphed into an apology in his expression. “I could’ve said stop at any time.”

“But you didn’t,” she said with defiance, and then his meaning sank in. He used her. He used her mouth to get off. She hadn’t won. She’d only made her defeat worse. A flush of anger heated her cheeks. Shame burned in her stomach. She couldn’t get out more than, “I see.” There was no way of salvaging her pride.

“I warned you,” he said, lowering his head to catch her gaze. “I told you it was a mistake, but you made the choice.”

She had to bite the inside of her cheek to prevent herself from uttering a sharp retort that would only make her lose even more face. What was this? A lesson teaching her she’d never win a single battle in this war?

He frowned as his gaze fell on her knees. “We better go inside and check that out.”

She glanced down. Scrapes from the concrete marred her skin. “It’s just a few scratches.”

“Your lips are blue.” Taking a cup of coffee, he placed it in her hands. “Here. This’ll warm you up.” He glanced at the sky. “Rain’s coming.”

She followed his gaze. Thick, gray-blue clouds rolled in over the lake.

He took her elbow and led her inside where it wasn’t much warmer. While he built a fire in the big hall, she sipped her coffee. The strong, rich brew invigorated her, the caffeine giving her a boost of energy, but it didn’t placate her bruised ego, for which she only had herself to blame.

When the flames were high, he made her sit on a chair and disinfected the scrapes, which were mostly the old cuts that had torn open.

“You need tights,” he said when he’d finished. “We’ll pick some up in town.”

“You said you’d take me to the cottage.”

He dumped the cotton swab in the trashcan. “We can stop on the way.”

After pulling a parka jacket on over his hoodie, he held out his hand. “Come. I don’t want to get caught in the rain. If it rains hard, the car will get stuck in the mud.”

“Maybe you should have the road fixed,” she said, ignoring his proffered hand.

He folded his fingers around hers and pulled her toward the hallway. “What’s the point?”

Because he wasn’t planning on sticking around. “You said you were going back to New York.”

“We,” he said, fixing her with a look from over his shoulder. “We’re going back together.”

“When?”

He led her to the car and helped her inside before taking the wheel. Rubbing his hands together, he asked, “Anything you need from town?”

“You can’t keep it from me indefinitely.”

He started the engine and turned up the heater. “Keep what from you?”

“Your plans.”

“Already told you, you’ll know what you need to know.”

“Right.” She looked from her window. “What you think I need to know.”

“Exactly.”

“We’re not going to town for tights,” she said when he turned into the dirt road that would take them to the national road. “We’re going for people to see me. You want to broadcast that I’m here.”

He glanced sideways at her, his hand tightening on the wheel.

Bingo. She’d been right. She was the bait.

For the rest of the way to Larmor-Baden, she said nothing. Even as the tension in the car mounted, excitement at the prospect of seeing her animals grew in her chest. They stopped at a general store in Larmor to pick up supplies, which included more candles, tights, and baguette.

Joss conversed a few words with the owner, telling him they were back for a short honeymoon. She could tell the old man was dying to ask when and where they got married, but he only congratulated them as he not so discreetly looked at the wedding bands on their fingers. She bet he was going to tell everyone, something Joss was probably bargaining on. He needed to get the word out, and what better way to do it than via the grapevine?

From Larmor they took the bridge to the Island of Berder. The nearer they got to the cottage, the more her excitement mixed with anxiety. She couldn’t wait to see her animals. Would they be fine? She didn’t know what she’d do if one of them was lost or hurt. There were many dangers in the woods but the biggest threat to the wolfdogs were the villagers. She had no hope of finding Erwan at home. Erwan wasn’t stupid. If he hadn’t guessed Joss had the cottage watched, his loyal friends in town would’ve gotten word to him.

Tags: Charmaine Pauls Seven Forbidden Arts Fantasy
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