Chiromancist (Seven Forbidden Arts #8) Read Online Charmaine Pauls

Categories Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Seven Forbidden Arts Series by Charmaine Pauls
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Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 69330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
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“Goodbye, Frans.” She got to her feet. “Find my son.”

A look of resolution invaded his murky eyes. “I will. You take care, kid.”

With a wave she walked off, hurrying back home. It wasn’t a surprise to find Bono waiting by her caravan. She’d expected him. What she wasn’t sure of was how he was going to react after last night.

“Hey,” she said cheerfully, shaking her shoulders as if the physical act could expel the chill that had crept up with the night. “Come inside.”

He straightened from the side of the caravan he was leaning on. Dressed in a stylish leather jacket, fitted shirt, tight jeans, and pointed dress shoes, he looked like he belonged in a club that served fifty-euro cocktails, not in a trailer park with a white trash girl who reads palms in a sex club.

The turmoil had to have shown on her face, because caution crept into his expression. “What’s wrong, beautiful?”

“I’m surprised you came back.”

“You think I can’t handle a slap in the face? I told you,” he walked toward her, “I was going to chase you hard.”

“Why?”

“Told you that too. Would you like to hear it again?”

“Sure. Why not?” she replied cheekily.

A slow smile curved his lips. “What your family and Doumar did to you is illegal, not to mention immoral, so no more rules apply. I want you, and I’m going to take you, but we’re going to do it for the right reasons. Make no mistake, I’ll play as dirty and hard as necessary to make you part of my life.”

“I’m not sure I understand what you want. What are you asking of me?”

“For now, I’m asking you to trust me.”

“Why would I trust you?”

“I don’t expect you to give me your faith for nothing. I intend to work for it.”

“If trust is for now, what is for later?”

His gaze penetrated hers. The habitual spark of humor was absent. “I’m going to ask you to love me.”

She gave a cold laugh. “We’re from different worlds.”

“If you mean that in the sense of Europe and Africa, then yes. If you mean it abstractly, then I have to warn you that I don’t give a fuck where you come from, who your parents are, or what the color of your skin is.”

“Look at you, Bono.” She motioned between them. “Spot the difference. I bet that’s a real diamond in your ear.”

“You want it? You can have it.”

“I don’t want your damn diamonds.”

“What do you want? Tell me, and I’ll give it to you.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Maybe not, but then again, nothing worthwhile is ever easy.”

“You have an answer for everything.”

“So do you. That’s why I love that smart mouth of yours so much.”

Damn, why did she hurt so much? She needed him to want her, but she wanted to punish him for making her need him. What was wrong with her? Instead of standing in her yard baiting him into a confrontation, she was supposed to steal a chip from his watch. It only made the bruise in her heart seep darker and deeper.

A meow coming from inside broke the tense silence.

“I have to feed the cat,” she said, suddenly feeling tired to her bones.

Bono followed her inside. The cat rubbed against her leg.

She picked him up and scratched his chin. “Hallo, baby.”

“Have you given him a name yet?”

“No.”

She left the cat on the bed and took a tin of cat food from the cupboard. She couldn’t tell him it was her son’s privilege to name his cat, or that she was frightened if she got attached to the pet, Doumar would take him away, so she offered no more explanations, and he didn’t push.

“Have you eaten?” he asked.

“No.”

“Want to go out for dinner?”

She opened the tin and scooped the food into a bowl. “You look more dressed for a club.”

“Dinner and clubbing then?”

It was hard not to smile for him. The cat shot from the bed and gave her another cuddle before attacking his food.

Already, despite the dreadful situation, her mood lifted. For just a few hours, she’d forget about reality. She’d pretend. Everybody deserved to pretend once in a while.

“What shall I wear?”

“Whatever you like.” He walked to her and put his arms around her. “Whatever is you.”

Unable to handle the intensity of his stare, she had to break away under the pretense of going through her closet. She selected a short one-piece with thin straps that showed off her back and legs. When she went outside to fill the bowl with rainwater from the tank, Bono followed. She stripped down to her underwear, lathered soap into a cloth, and started washing with the cold water.

There was an angry undertone to his voice when he asked, “This is how you always bath?”

“Here, yes. If I want a warm shower, I have one at the club.”



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