Page 4 of Roguefinder

I dragged a hand through my hair. “You mean like a premonition?” I’d gotten bad feelings long before I discovered I was a seer. Back in Albany, I’d flipped out when Jesse had raised the issue of driving to Hale Valley without me. My guts had twisted, and a sense of doom had settled over me like a max squat, the weight threatening to buckle my knees.

“Yes,” Jesse said, watching me. “Does anything feel off?”

I held my breath, waiting for that sickly, heavy feeling to return. But it didn’t come. Like every day since the trial, whatever magical senses I possessed remained dormant. No flashes of insight. No cool visions. Not even a tingle down my spine.

Just silence, the faint sound of rain outside, and the low hum of the television, where the screen had switched to a man and a woman reading the news.

“No odd feelings,” I said, “just the usual pissiness I get whenever Stefanos orders us to do something.”

Jesse huffed. He looked around, his gaze falling on my open suitcase. His own luggage sat on the floor next to the closet, packed and zipped since breakfast. His backpack nestled next to it, and his hooded sweatshirt was folded on top like something out of a sporting goods store display.

“Do you need any help?” he asked, craning his neck as he peered into my bag. “You’ve never been to Rome⁠—”

“I’m good,” I said.

He wandered closer, a fresh frown appearing between his brows. “Your shirts will fit better if you roll them.”

“Uh-huh.”

Jesse pursed his lips. Then he reached for the topmost shirt before seemingly catching himself. A split-second later, he went right back, pulling the suitcase toward him. “Where are you going to put your toiletries?”

“I’ll find a spot.”

He rooted around, unearthing the charging cable I’d stuffed between pairs of shorts, and a look of mild horror crossed his handsome face. “Really?”

Amusement bubbled in my chest. “Sure. Or I can just use your stuff.”

He withdrew a gray crew sock and held it up. “Does this have a mate?”

God, he was so fucking cute. A cute fucking nerd.

“It’s in there somewhere,” I said.

He regarded the sock the way someone might look at a dead fish.

“I think,” I added.

Jesse looked at me. Instant suspicion clouded his features. He pointed the sock. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

It was useless trying not to smile. “Go ahead and rearrange everything. You know you want to.”

He lowered the sock. “I’m just saying you’ll have more room if you’re strategic about it.”

I let my smile spread. “Your eyelid is twitching.”

He laughed. Then he tossed the sock onto the bed and yanked me into another kiss. “Fucking brat,” he said against my lips. “You enjoyed that.”

“Mmm,” I acknowledged, sliding my hands under his shirt and smoothing my palms up his torso until I found hard pecs and soft chest hair. “You know what else needs rearranging?”

“Caleb—”

“My guts.”

His laugh became a groan. He rested his forehead against mine, his shoulders heaving a little as he clearly wrestled with runaway lust. After a moment, he straightened, and his irises were their usual warm brown. He searched my eyes.

And then it happened.

Anxiety flooded my chest, worry rushing around my ribs like water flowing over rocks in a river. But the emotion wasn’t mine. I couldn’t have said how, but it felt like Jesse. It wasn’t anything I could really scent, but I knew it all the same, like sniffing something strong and spending the rest of the day with it plastered to the back of your throat.