Page 40 of Roguefinder

I pulled back so I could look at him. “Are you nervous?”

“Yes.” He searched my face. “Are you?”

We shared a pillow, our heads as close as they could be without touching. Something about the way he looked at me made me tighten my side of our bond.

“I’m cautious,” I said.

He was quiet for a few seconds. Then he touched my jaw. “I meant it when I said I’d behave myself this time. You don’t have to worry about me putting us in danger.”

“Caleb—”

He stopped me with a finger over my lips. “This mating thing runs both ways, Jesse. My wolf is just as batshit when it comes to keeping you safe as yours is with me. Whatever we walk into tomorrow night, we do it together. And then we walk out.”

The sweetest ache settled under my heart. I pulled his hand away and closed my fingers around his.

“Together,” I said.

Chapter

Eight

CALEB

Rome was even more beautiful at dusk.

It was also really fucking dangerous.

The third time a scooter brushed my hip going a million miles per hour, I asked Jesse what he had against Uber.

He smiled, looking annoyingly hot. “Now where’s the fun in that?”

“I’d have a lot more fun with all ten of my toes.” We had forty minutes until our “audience” with Carlo. Jesse had suggested going on foot so we could take in more of the city.

“You’re walking too close to the edge of the sidewalk,” he said.

My scoff drew stares. I gestured to the slow-moving river of traffic on the street next to us. “In case you haven’t noticed, the scooter guys drive on the sidewalk.”

Before he could respond, a Vespa whipped past us, mounted the curb, and threaded between a knot of people without slowing down.

“Okay,” Jesse said. “You have a point.”

“Thank you.”

He caught my elbow and pulled me into a faster walk. “But you have to admit”—we rounded a corner—“this is a better view than anything we’d get in the back of a car.”

Oh.

“Shit…” I breathed, my head going back…and back as I took in the Colosseum. I’d seen pictures. Everyone had. Pictures absolutely did not do it justice.

The arena soared above the city, enormous and patient, its sun-bleached stone unbothered by the modern world swarming around its foundation.

“It’s bigger than I thought,” I said, which was possibly the dumbest thing anyone had ever said in front of the Colosseum. But Jesse didn’t laugh. Instead, he laced his fingers with mine and stared up at it with me.

“It always is,” he said.

We stayed put, just sort of…basking in history. Letting the weight of the ancient arena hang over us. My mind traveled back to every stadium I’d played in, from summer rec leagues to DIII playoff games. They had all looked like this, an elliptical bowl with seats ringing the space where the performance happened. The design never really varied.

Because the Romans had perfected it. Here, motherfuckers, they’d said, and planted the prototype of all prototypes in the middle of their city.