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The affectionate action made her pause. This pull and push between them was exhausting, not to mention confusing. Pulling away her hand, she said, “I’m not sure.”
A look of frustration settled over his features, but he didn’t say more as Izabell reentered with a platter of oysters on a bed of crushed ice.
“I hope you like them,” she said to Clelia. “Joss wasn’t much help there. For someone who knows you down to the size of your shoes and underwear, he doesn’t know much about your eating preferences.”
Clelia shot Joss a quick look. He instructed Izabell to buy her underwear? Her cheeks heated. “I love oysters. Thank you.”
“She grew up here, Iza,” Joss said with a glint in his eyes.
Izabell shrugged. “So did I, and I hate oysters.” She poured them each a glass of water and gave Clelia a cheerful smile. “Eat up. You’re such a skinny little thing.”
When they were alone again, Joss prepared an oyster with shallot vinegar and brought it to Clelia’s lips.
“You don’t have to always feed me,” she said.
His tone was dry. “I’m well aware.”
“Then why do it?”
“Taking care of you. Now stop the questions and do as you’re told.”
Blowing out a huff, she opened her mouth and let him feed her.
“Was that so difficult?” he asked.
She glared at him. “I don’t see how this helps our situation.”
“It helps if you do what I tell you and listen.”
She clamped her mouth shut, grinding her teeth.
“If you’re ready to listen,” he said, “I can tell you what I’ve found out about your art.”
“Why didn’t you just say so from the start?”
He leaned closer. “You really have to learn to trust me.”
“Then give me reason to.”
“Fine.” He threw an arm over the back of his chair. “I deserve that.”
“Good. I’m glad we’re on the same page for once.”
“Cut out the sass, Cle. We don’t have time.”
Her self-control snapped. “Cut out the bossiness. You’re behaving like an alpha asshole.”
A grin stretched his lips, but there was no humor in the gesture. “You haven’t seen that side of me yet, and believe me, little witch, you don’t want to.”
“Just get to the point,” she said, taking the glass and throwing back half of the champagne.
His gaze followed the action, disapproval written on his face. “According to my research, regressed art is awakened by intense practice of the art and the presence of a master.”
Her gut tightened at the mention of the master. “Lupien?”
“The records are limited. Firestarting hasn’t been practiced for many centuries. From what I could find, children inherit the art from their parents and are taught to control it from a young age. In the absence of a role model, the art becomes regressed. There’s no proof that a regressed art can be awakened, but the scripts suggest one could make the art resurface by constant exposure to said art.”
“The burning of the houses.”
“Maybe. I can’t come up with another plausible explanation.”
Despite her trepidation, her interest was piqued. “Where did you find these records?”
“Lann collects antique books. His private library was a valuable source of information.”
“If burning down fifty houses was supposed to awaken my art, the destruction was for nothing. It didn’t work.”
Izabell entered with two steaming plates of food she placed in front of them. “Grilled sea bass in a fern and salted butter sauce, and grilled vegetables on the side. It’s the best I could do with a grill on the kitchen fire. Tomorrow I should have fresh lobster.”
“This looks delicious, thank you,” Clelia said.
Izabell turned to Joss. “Would you like a Sauvignon Blanc with your main course?”
Again, Joss looked at Clelia for the answer.
“I’m fine with the champagne.” Her head was already spinning from the half a glass she’d downed on an all but empty stomach.
“I’ll leave your dessert in the kitchen,” Izabell said. “I’ll be on my way then, unless there’s anything else you need?”
Joss got to his feet. “Thank you for taking care of our dinner. I didn’t expect you to come in personally.”
“My regular chefs are all booked because of the peak season, but I enjoyed the primitive experience for a change. Leave everything as it is. My team will be in tomorrow morning to clean the kitchen.”
After Izabell had left, Joss took his seat again and carried right on where he’d left off. “Whether it worked or not, I have no doubt Lupien will come for you.”
“That’s why I’m here, right?”
His fingers clenched around his fork. “It’s the only way. Lupien won’t stop until he’s found you.”
“When he finds me, what then?”
“Hopefully it won’t come to that, but if it does, there’s only one way to keep safe.”
She took a sip of water to swallow away the dryness of her throat. “How?”
“Lupien can only steal your art if he corrupts you. He’ll try anything to make you give in. He’ll kill, lie, burn, manipulate, and torture whoever he must. Whatever he does, you can never give in, do you hear me? You can never give in to the darkness he’d make you feel. If you do, he’ll take your art, and the only way for him to take it, is to kill you.”
