He took a step closer. “Don’t try to change the subject. Answer my question.”
She rolled her eyes. “No one is bothering me. Now answer mine. How could you know I’m not a pyromancist?”
After a moment, the tight set of his shoulders relaxed a little. “I knew you’d ask sooner or later.” Rubbing the back of his neck, he said, “I was hoping for later.”
“What did you mean by that?”
He sat down next to her, steeping his fingers together. “I can tell things by tasting blood.”
Her lips parted on a silent gasp. “You drink people’s blood?”
“I’m not a vampire,” he said in a chastising tone. “It only requires a drop.”
“Let me guess. That’s how you ended up investigating paranormal crime.”
“We all have our specialties.”
“What are Lann and Maya’s?”
“Maya is a hydromancist, someone who can manipulate water, and Lann is an aeromancist. His element is air.”
“What do you call your gift?”
“It doesn’t have a name. It’s not one of the seven forbidden arts. Mine is not considered a gift. It’s an anomaly.”
Since he seemed to be in a generous mood, she pushed for more information. “If the powers to manipulate fire, water, and air are three of these forbidden arts, what are the other four?”
“You don’t know?”
“Should I?”
“Earth, spirit, animal, and time.”
Her curiosity was piqued. “What kind of things can you tell?”
“Various stuff. It depends.”
“Aren’t you afraid of catching diseases?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.
“I’m immune to infection via blood.”
“What did my blood tell you when you tasted it?”
His eyes moved to her lips. “Back when we were kids or yesterday?”
She swallowed. “Both.”
He considered her for a moment. “Are you sure you want to know?”
“Yes.”
After a short hesitation, he said, “That day in the forest, I knew you weren’t a witch. Yesterday confirmed it. You didn’t start those fires, despite what everyone says about your mother.”
She wanted to believe it, but the doubt she carried in her heart wasn’t going to be uprooted that easily. “How can you be so sure?”
“Blood doesn’t lie.”
“You could’ve made a mistake.”
“I don’t make mistakes like that,” he said in a harsh tone.
She held out her hand. “Cut me.”
“What?”
“I want you to cut my finger and taste my blood.”
His eyebrows snapped together. “Why?”
“I want to be sure.”
“It’s not necessary.”
“Do it, Joss.”
He regarded her from under his dark lashes. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“I’m asking you to double check.”
“This won’t accomplish anything.”
“What do you have to lose? Cut me, or I’ll do it myself.”
“If that’s what you want.” He got up, went to his bag, and took out a hypodermic needle. After removing the wrapping, he came to stand in front of her. Pushing her legs open with his thigh, he placed himself between her knees and took her wrist. “It’ll only be a prick.”
He held her eyes as he swiftly brought the needle down on her index finger. It didn’t hurt, not much, but she flinched. Without breaking their gaze, he left the needle on the nightstand and squeezed her finger until the droplet of blood grew big and plump.
The color of his eyes turned into the dark gray of a stormy sky as he brought her finger closer. Parting his lips, he sucked her finger into his mouth. Her heart rate spiked as he wrapped his tongue around the tip and licked her finger like it was candy. She grew wet and aching, trying to squeeze her knees together, but he still stood between her legs.
The flick of his tongue was light, but it was far from innocent. His heated expression did wicked things to her body. Her breasts turned heavy. Her breath came faster. She tore her gaze away from those smoky gray eyes to the hardness his sweatpants barely concealed. She remembered how he’d felt in her hand, inside her, and even if this was all wrong, she couldn’t deny the need he ignited. Even as desire coursed through her, astonishment registered in her mind. Joss was turned on. By her.
“Joss?” It was a question, a plea. A plea to finish this? A plea to stop?
The spell broke. A shutter dropped in front of his eyes. Releasing her finger, he dried it on his pants, precariously close to the bulge under the soft cotton fabric.
His smile looked more like a grimace. “Tasting blood can be a very erotic experience for me.”
The declaration was a jab in her heart. The blood turned him on. She wasn’t the cause of his arousal. Except for last night, but did it count if he’d been too drunk to remember?
Her gaze shifted to his hard-on again. “Does this always happen?”
When he didn’t answer, she lifted her eyes and caught him watching her with an intense expression.
“The truth?” he asked.
“Always.”
“With you, it does.” Placing his hands on her knees, he brought his face close to hers. “Truth?”
Mesmerized by the seductive look in his eyes, she nodded.
“It’s not you. Not a stitch of magic in your bones.”
Oh. She’d expected him to elaborate on his lust. He still looked like he wanted to devour her, but she was grateful he’d brought them back to the subject she should be concentrating on.
Ashamed of her thoughts, she said, “Are you sure?”
His gaze was level. “Yes.”
Why wasn’t she relieved? A part of her still doubted his verdict.
“Can we go to bed now?” he asked, straightening. “It’s been a hell of a day. We can both do with some rest.”
Was he suggesting—
“Don’t worry,” he said, his smirk back in place. “I won’t touch you.”
She took a deep breath, inhaling the stale, musty air of the room. “Do I have a choice?”
“No.”
She ran a finger around the bandage on her wrist. “Are you going to handcuff me?”
“I don’t need to. I’m a light sleeper.”
“Can’t you sleep in another room?”
“There’s only this bed.”
She wasn’t going to show him how little confidence she had in her self-control. Lying down, she moved to the edge of the mattress. He climbed onto the bed and turned on his side, throwing an arm around her waist.
She
