All is fair in love and war, especially when the loot is HIS woman.
Sean Rivers lives with a dangerous secret. He possesses a forbidden art. As geomancist, it is in his power to destroy landscapes with earthquakes and volcanoes. Knowing his kind is hunted by forces of both good and evil, Sean’s job as mixologist in Cartagena, Colombia is the perfect cover. Until Asia, a zesty beautician walks into his life and wrecks the very laws of physics.
When Sean and Asia compete for the premises where Sean intends to open his cocktail bar, he pulls out all the stops to win the challenge … to Asia’s detriment. Together they end up catering for the guests of a drug baron who rented Isla del Pirata for a week-long birthday celebration, and the kingpin has no intention of letting Asia leave. Ever. If Sean is to rescue her, he’ll have to use his art, blow his cover, and maybe even his life.
* Geomancist is Book 5 in the paranormal erotic romance series, Seven Forbidden Arts, but also reads as a standalone. The story contains adult content with explicit language and consummated loves scenes, including kink and sexual punishment. Reader discretion is advised.
On the landing, Sean stopped in the door. From over his shoulder she saw a small group of people in a big lounge and dining area who were either dancing or lazing on the sofas with drinks in their hands. Her heart started beating even faster than before. She tried to calm herself with logical thoughts. Surely Jeanne wouldn’t hurt them in a room full of witnesses.
“Get inside.” With the gun pointed at their back, Jeanne moved them to the middle of the floor and kicked the door shut. “Kill the music,” she said into the small crowd. “Our entertainment is here.”
The eyes of the men locked on Asia. They were filled with excited anticipation that she didn’t like one bit. A woman dressed in a skirt so short her ass cheeks showed under the hem pressed a command on an iPod. The loud beat turned to silence. Whoever wasn’t already slouched on the sofas, made their way over there, forming a tight circle around her and Sean.
“Whatever you’re planning,” Sean said, “you’re making a mistake.”
Jeanne pointed at the suitcase Sean still carried in his hand. “Drop the bag. She won’t need it for a while.”
Sean lowered the case to the floor without removing his eyes from Jeanne. Asia tried to be brave, but it was hard when Jeanne’s warped friends looked at her like she was the main attraction. One of the guys on the sofa rubbed his crotch.
“What do you want from us?” she asked.
If she knew what Jeanne’s plan was for them, she could work out some kind of defense. Her body had gone from trembling to shaking. As if sensing her mounting distress, Sean gripped her fingers.
Jeanne came closer and pushed the pistol against Sean’s temple. Anger and helplessness washed over his features, telling her the truth. He was as powerless as she was. He looked at Asia with amazing calmness, but it failed to soothe her. The gun was pressed against his temple, but she could almost feel the barrel against her own.
The man who palmed himself spoke. “Do it, Jeanne.” His eyes were wide and his face coated with perspiration.
Sean was so still, not even his chest moved. It seemed as if he’d stopped breathing. The atmosphere was thick with expectation. The woman on the single chair moved to the edge of her seat. A younger man sitting on the armrest of the sofa looked away when Asia caught his eye.
A bald man with a girl on his lap and his hand buried underneath her dress said, “Why are we waiting?”
“Oh, I just want the moment to last.” Jeanne almost sounded breathless.
“I don’t think I’ll last,” another man said. When he pointed at the erection straining his pants, a loud round of laughter followed.
“What do you want, Jeanne?” Sean said again.
Jeanne chuckled. “We want a show.” She turned in a slow circle, facing the mindless men and women who participated in her evil sport. “Don’t we?”
“Please.” Asia’s voice shook as much as her hands. “Don’t do this.”
Whatever Jeanne had in mind, it wasn’t going to be good.
“Take off your clothes, darling.” Jeanne’s gaze flickered to Sean. “You too, stud muffin.” She checked her watch and cocked the safety on the gun. “You have ten seconds.”
Asia’s breath caught on a hitch. Jeanne was going to make them strip in front on her friends. Oh, she was a sick woman. If there was one thing she knew for sure, it was that Jeanne wasn’t going to let her off the hook. This was the kingpin’s wife’s way of taking revenge for the interest her husband had shown in Asia. She realized that Sean’s rejection of the woman hadn’t helped. Jeanne was as high as a kite, that much was clear. Who knew what she was capable of in the state she was in? This couldn’t be happening.
“Now,” Jeanne said. “If I have to repeat myself, one of you gets a bullet in the knee.”
There was no doubt in Asia’s mind that she’d follow through with her threat and pull the trigger. With only one thing left to do, Asia turned away from Jeanne to face Sean. She straightened her back and lifted her chin. She wasn’t going to do this cowering.
A muscle ticked in Sean’s jaw. His eyes were narrowed on Jeanne, but when he moved them to Asia, they softened, no doubt for her benefit. God knew, she needed any moral support she could get.
Keeping her eyes focused on him, she unbuttoned her tunic, pulled it from her arms and let it drop to the floor. Her skin broke out in goose bumps. She felt sick. She swallowed the feeling down and kicked off her shoes. Without breaking eye contact, Sean did the same, removing his T-shirt and casting it aside with a reckless flick of his wrist. It didn’t help that Sean had never seen her naked before.
“Faster,” Jeanne said. “This is not a slow striptease.”
Asia’s hands went to the button of her white pants. Her fingers fumbled with the zip. It took two tries before the pants gave way and she could pull them over her hips. Tears burned at the back of her eyes, but she refused to shed them. There was no way in hell she was going to give Jeanne the satisfaction. She closed her eyes briefly and prayed that Jeanne wasn’t going to draw out the embarrassing torture.
The bald man’s gaze traveled over Asia before it settled on her white thong. The asshole didn’t even try to hide his ogling, or the bulge in his pants. She tried her best to ignore the stares that burned on her back.
Jeanne tapped her watch. “Three seconds.”
By now, Sean was out of his jeans too. He stood proud and tall in his black boxers. His chiseled chest flexed as he clenched his fists and his eyes flashed with unspoken defiance.
Jeanne caressed his cheek with the barrel of the gun, stepping around him so her chest pressed to his back. Her hand snaked around his waist, down his abdomen and into the elastic of his underwear. He flinched.
“That’s better,” Jeanne said, her eyes cutting a path over Asia. “Underwear too, Snow White.”
Asia bit her lip in an effort to stop it from trembling. When she searched for the clasp of her bra at her back with fingers dumb from fear, Sean reached for her.
“Come here,” he said softly, as if no one else in the room existed, as if Jeanne weren’t standing there with a pistol pressed against his head, her hand in his shorts and ten of her fucked-up friends watching the spectacle.
Asia took two steps until she stood almost against him. Her heart beat with an erratic rhythm.
Sean smoothed his hands over her shoulders and down her back, his fingers going to the clip. “Let me.”
His touch soothed her. Asia focused on the feeling of his fingers. She blocked out everything else, trying not to think but only to survive. There was a soft click. The lace loosened around her breasts. He pushed the straps from her shoulders and let the underwear fall to the floor.
His breath brushed over her face. “You know you’re beautiful.”
It wasn’t a compliment; it was meant to encourage.
Asia managed a watery smile. “So are you.”
A grin spread over his face, but quickly disappeared when Jeanne wrapped her hand around his cock.
The evil woman went on tiptoes and said in his neck, “Let me warm you up, my dear, because now you’re going to make our sweet little Asia come, or she dies.”
Charmaine Pauls was born in Bloemfontein, South Africa. She obtained a degree in Communication at the University of Potchefstroom and followed a diverse career path in journalism, public relations, advertising, communications, photography, graphic design, and brand marketing. Her writing has always been an integral part of her professions.
After relocating to Chile with her French husband, she fulfilled her passion to write creatively full-time. Charmaine has published ten novels since 2011, as well as several short stories and articles. Two of her short stories were selected for publication in an African anthology from across the continent by the International Society of Literary Fellows in conjunction with the International Research Council on African Literature and Culture.
When she is not writing, she likes to travel, read, and rescue cats. Charmaine currently lives in Montpellier with her husband and children. Their household is a linguistic mélange of Afrikaans, English, French and Spanish.