Page 22 of Roguefinder
“Why?” Caleb asked. “Weren’t you worried about pissing off the Council?”
“It was a risk,” I admitted. “But I was done letting the Council have a stranglehold on my life. I saw an opportunity to form an alliance, and I took it. Sterling promised to keep my involvement a secret. And it was in his best interest to do so. The wolf seduced Cressida right under his nose and nearly killed both Moray heirs in the process. If word got out, it would be a fatal blow to the Morays, and Sterling knew it.”
Caleb grew quiet, obviously turning over the story in his mind. A frown creased his forehead. “If this other coven of witches hired the werewolf, they could blab and tell everyone they got close to killing Sterling and his sister. Wasn’t he worried about that?”
“It’s logical to think so,” I said. “But confessing their involvement would force him to retaliate. Sterling knows who they are, and they know he knows. But no one wants open war, so they pretend nothing ever happened. Everyone saves face.”
Caleb looked impressed. “Mutual blackmail as a truce.”
“Sterling plays a long game,” I said. “At the end of the day, I did him a favor. And he repaid me by giving me telekinesis.”
Caleb’s gaze was steady. “Did you kill the wolf?”
“Sterling handled it. The werewolf had seduced a sixteen-year-old girl and then tried to silence her. The witches don’t leave that kind of loose end.” I kept my voice neutral. “They’re ruthless. Sterling would say they have to be.”
“Does Cressida know you tracked down the werewolf?”
“She knows someone outside the Moray coven retrieved the grimoire. She doesn’t know it was me. Sterling felt that was best, and I agree.”
Caleb’s frown returned. “Is Cressida okay now?”
It didn’t surprise me that he’d shot past the politics to the person. His smartass shell hid a soft center.
“It was years ago,” I said. “Cressida is even more powerful now, and she’s never let anyone get close to her again.” I paused. “Possibly to her detriment.”
His eyes softened. “That’s a shame.”
“Sterling is the same way. He maintains iron control in every area of his life, including sex.”
“All those prim and proper Dom and sub rules, huh?”
I let my smile go lazy. “Rules are important, baby. But that doesn’t mean I don’t like it when you break them. You looked really good over my knee.”
Lust moved through the bond in a languid current. Mischief and heat gleamed in his eyes. Slowly, he stretched his arms over his head, unabashed in his nudity, the elegant lines of his shoulders enough to make Michelangelo weep.
“What about when I rode your indigo dildo?” he asked, deepening the stretch. “Did I look good then?”
Shaking my head, I flicked one of his nipples. “Brat. You know how fucking good you look.”
He jerked away, then slapped a protective hand over his pec. “Language, Mr. van der Meer. I’m one hundred years younger than you. I’m not used to this kind of profanity.”
Oh, you little shit. In a burst of speed, I drove him onto his back and pinned his arms above his head. “You’ve said fuck more this week than I have in the last decade.”
Laughter danced in his eyes as he fought my grip. But we both knew he didn’t really want to get away. “You’ve been keeping a list somewhere, haven’t you?” he panted.
I tightened my hold. “No.”
“That’s fucking cute, Jesse.”
“I don’t have a list.”
“Okay.”
Our wrestling turned playful. Rolling and shoving, we sent pillows tumbling to the floor. Laughter turned to grunts, then moans as our hips met, our dicks hard and leaking. Pressing him onto his back, I wedged my hips between his legs and bit his jaw, tasting my sweat on his skin. He rutted against me, sliding one foot up my calf as he mashed his dick into mine.
“Fuck me again,” he said, his wolf peering out from his eyes. “Please, Jesse. I want to spend tomorrow leaking your cum.”
Holy. My growl shook the bed. I bent and sank my teeth into his shoulder until blood coated my tongue. He gasped, then went loose in my arms, the fight ebbing from his body. Straddling him, I grabbed his wrists in one hand and forced them above his head.
