Page 42 of Roguefinder

Every nerve ending in my body became a sparkler on the Fourth of July. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

I held his stare—fully aware that I only managed it because he let me. Which made my dick come alive like one of those one-man bands with all the drums and cymbals and a bicycle horn.

“Guess you’ll have to do something about it later,” I said.

“Count on it.”

A sane person would have backed down or begged for forgiveness. But I’d never once been rational when it came to Jesse. Three cheers for consistency.

Even as desire rocked me, a second emotion tugged at a spot behind my sternum. It was just a hint, like a song playing in another room. The words were muffled, but I’d heard them before.

I’d heard them all day while Jesse pretended he wasn’t panicking about me sitting down with Carlo Gesualdo.

I put a hand on his chest. “Are you doing this on purpose? Letting me feel you?”

He sighed, a rueful smile touching his lips. “Not intentionally. But our wolves are more tightly bonded than most mates. It’s like we’ve been together for decades instead of months.”

My heart thumped faster, and my mind carried me back to my first shift. The moment I’d transformed, I’d realized something my wolf had known from the start: the mate bond was by no means a casual thing.

The air in the alley changed. Or maybe just the air between us. Awareness hummed, and I didn’t need the mate bond to tell me what Jesse was thinking.

“Like we’re married on four legs?” I asked.

“That’s right,” he said, fingers splayed over my jaw. “Your wolf proposed, and mine said yes.”

I swallowed. “Guess we’ll have to register somewhere. You can never have enough towels.”

Jesse dropped his gaze to my mouth. “Would you want to be married on two legs?”

My knees loosened. “Yes,” I said, and somehow my voice didn’t crack. “If a nice man ever asked me, I’d definitely consider it.”

His lips curved in a slow smile. “Do you have anyone in mind?”

I pretended to think about it. Looked toward the mouth of the alley, where two tourists fought a losing battle with a rental scooter.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe I’ll find an eligible bachelor in Rome.”

He pressed me more firmly into the wall, and his low growl vibrated the stones beneath my feet. “I don’t recommend it. I’ll put your eligible bachelor in a matchbox.”

The threat probably should have pissed me off—or frightened me or prompted any number of sensible reactions. But as he was fond of pointing out, we were werewolves. The ordinary rules didn’t apply to us. And maybe I’d feel the same if he ever looked sideways at another guy.

The second the thought landed, my wolf sat up in my mind. Rage kindled, a Molotov cocktail of jealousy waiting in the wings for me to lob it.

Okay so, yeah, unhinged possessiveness was a mutual thing. At least Jesse and I were on the same homicidal page.

“Noted,” I said. “And you should know something, too.”

“What’s that?”

I reached up and traced the curve of his eyebrow with my thumb. “I’m not going to get myself hurt tonight, okay? You don’t have to worry.”

His lips parted. “Okay,” he whispered.

We stayed that way for a long moment, the mate bond a thick current between us. A sharp caw made us both jump. A crow fluttered from a windowsill above us and disappeared, its black wings swallowed by the night.

“Bad omen?” I asked, turning back to Jesse.