Page 24 of Roguefinder

“Is that how you ask?”

“Sir,” he gasped. “Please, sir, I want—oh fuck—your dick.” His eyes rolled back. We were both so close to the edge, the ground crumbling from under us.

I pulled my fingers free, and he grabbed my shoulders, hauling me close as I lined up and shoved into him in one smooth, slick stroke. And I didn’t fucking wait, my hips already moving.

He threw his legs around my waist and squeezed, heels digging into the small of my back. “Yeah,” he grunted, gripping my shoulders. “Fuck, yeah. More.”

I gave him my full weight. Our mouths crashed together, the kiss as hard and bruising as my thrusts. The sex was faster this time. Mindless and frantic. Caleb sucked at my tongue as I rutted into him, the sweat between our chests slick and hot. He dug his fingers into my shoulders and gasped in my ear, another litany of Jesse, Jesse, Jesse curling around my neck.

“Make yourself come,” I ordered, lifting onto my forearms so I could watch. He grabbed at his dick. Half a dozen pumps, and he gave a choked cry and shot all over our stomachs. The wet clamp of his ass undid me. I buried myself to the root and let go, pulsing into his heat with a groan wrenched from my soul.

We shuddered together, and I dropped my forehead to his shoulder and breathed while he dragged his fingertips up and down my back. Our heartbeats slowed together. The room was quiet except for the rain against the windows.

After a minute, Caleb ran his fingers over my nape. “Okay, so you don’t have a list of my F-bombs.”

It took me a second to realize he’d picked up the thread of our conversation. Laughing weakly, I kissed his sweaty temple. “Sorry for the interruption.”

He offered a wicked, very Caleb smile as I pulled away. “Don’t be. I’m down for any side quest that involves your tongue in my ass.”

My snort filled the bedroom as I flopped onto my back. “After we land tomorrow, I want to walk the city and try to pick up Ulfrik’s scent.”

Caleb used the corner of the sheet to mop the mess on his stomach. “I wish I could help you hunt.”

“Don’t be too quick to volunteer. Scenting a rogue is like sticking your head in a dumpster full of rotten fruit.”

He grimaced. “I’m glad I never smelled like that.”

It was a miracle—and a mystery—that he hadn’t. But his wolf had claimed mine almost instantly. As far as I could tell, that bond had anchored him, preventing him from turning rogue. Whatever alchemy had fused us together, I was content to shut up and be grateful for it.

“How close do you need to be to pick up a rogue’s scent?” he asked.

“Four hundred miles, give or take. Healthy wolves are easier because their signatures don’t waver. Rogues can pose a challenge. The corruption in their blood makes everything about them unstable, and their scents can come and go. It makes them harder to pin down.”

“But you always pin them down.”

I smiled. “I do.”

“Could anything blunt your senses? Like, block a scent signature?”

I thought it over. “Sustained exposure to silver would do it. If a werewolf covered himself in it, he might evade me.” I shook my head. “But we’re talking about quantities that would be lethal to any wolf. It’s not a practical solution.”

His smile turned appreciative, and he reached over and circled one of my nipples with his fingertip. “So there’s no outrunning a wolfseeker. Can you track regular werewolves just as easily? Like if I ran off, could you hunt me down? Find me in a crowd? Cross oceans of time to find me?”

I knew I looked as confused as I felt. “What’s time got to—?” I gave a helpless laugh. “What?”

“Dracula,” he said, like I was supposed to know what that meant. When I could only do more confused staring, he widened his eyes. “The Francis Ford Coppola movie with Gary Oldman and Winona Ryder? Oh my god, where is my phone?” He sat up and twisted toward the nightstand. “I have to download Hulu or something. This is embarrassing. For you.”

Laughing, I caught his arm and pulled him back. “Stop. To answer your question, yes, I could track you. Every wolf has their own scent signature.”

“What’s mine?”

I didn’t have to think about it. “Apples and sugar. A hint of chocolate. You picked up clove when you started using my shampoo. And you carry a little bit of the cedar that’s unique to me.”

He blinked, clearly taken aback by how quickly I’d rattled off the layers. “I thought the cedar was your aftershave.”

I reached up and smoothed hair off his forehead. “Nope. It’s mine. And yours now.”

“Because of the mate bond?”