Page 50 of Roguefinder

“I’m serious, Caleb.” Fear and frustration were tight knots in my gut. “I don’t know the first thing about your gift. I’ve never met another seer.”

He pulled my hand from his face but held onto it. “Was the human who told Philippe he’d find Marcus again a seer?”

“Philippe seemed to think so.” I shoved the memories back where they belonged. “But he was distraught when he told me. We argued, he took his own life, and I never got the full story.”

Caleb rested our joined hands on his thigh. “Damn, Jesse. That’s a lot to carry.”

“It was for a while,” I said. “But it’s lighter now. I used to think Philippe was running from me. He’d turned all these men, and none of them were what he wanted. Then he got to me, and he was disappointed again.”

Caleb looked at our joined hands for a long moment. When he raised his eyes, they were very blue and very serious. No mischief, no armor.

“Philippe couldn’t see what he had,” he said. “I’m glad he couldn’t. Because you ended up mine, and you’re everything to me. Every single thing.”

It was better than any I love you. But he said that, too, the sentiment flowing from his side of the mate bond.

Married on two legs.

Yes. I was going to marry this man as soon as I could manage it.

“You’re every single thing to me, too,” I said.

For a moment, he just looked at me. Then he stood and straddled me, settling on my lap with his pajama pant-clad thighs on either side of my hips. The chair creaked under our combined weight, but the sturdy construction held. I wrapped my arms around him as our mouths met and my world narrowed to his smooth, warm skin and the hint of coffee on his tongue.

He kissed me slowly, strong fingers sliding up my nape into my hair. I kissed him back the same way, one hand smoothing up his spine, and I let myself relax. Rome and Ulfrik and Carlo could wait. This—this—was mine. Caleb’s weight in my lap. His apples-and-brownie scent in my lungs. The small sound he made when I tilted my head and stroked my tongue deeper.

When he pulled back, we were both semi-hard. Golden stubble glittered on his jaw. His bottom lip was wet and pink from our kiss. At some point, rain had started up outside, and it tapped softly against the kitchen window.

“Does this mean you’ll make me new eggs?” he asked, his eyes dancing.

The sky outside was gray, but I didn’t need the sun. Not with summer personified in my lap.

“How about a frittata?” I asked.

“Does it have cheese on it?”

“It could.”

“Then yes.”

He climbed off me, and I went to the refrigerator and gathered ingredients while he wandered to the window and looked out. After a moment, he came to the counter and leaned against it. His color was normal, and he seemed steady. But it was going to be a long time before I forgot how he’d looked in those few seconds when he’d gone slack, his eyes tracking something only he could see.

Maybe it was better if we skipped the opera, after all.

“We don’t have to go tomorrow,” I said, whisking a new batch of eggs. “I’ll talk to Stefanos.”

Caleb was shaking his head before I’d finished. “No way. We’re in Rome to find Ulfrik, and now we have a lead we didn’t have before.”

The distant sound of church bells drifted from outside. Scooters hummed beneath it. The city stirred, oblivious to the master vampire pulling strings from an opera house in its center.

“Stefanos might tell us to stay home,” I said.

Caleb scoffed, gripping the edge of the counter with both hands and leaning back. He studied the flex of muscle in his forearms as he said, “I guess anything is possible. But I have a feeling he’ll cream his jeans when he hears my gift showed up.”

For about the thousandth time since I’d met him, I had to fight a smile. “That’s quite a visual.”

“You know I’m right.”

He was. Stefanos hadn’t sent us to Rome to drink olive oil and admire the Colosseum.