Page 69 of Roguefinder

Jesse stood in front of me gripping my arms like he worried I would vanish. The men were gone, the room flooded with the same dreary afternoon light as before. Rain pattered the roof. Outside, car tires splashed through water. The wall behind Jesse was gray and barren again.

“It used to be red,” I rasped.

Jesse cupped my jaw, then pressed the back of his wrist to my forehead. “You’re burning up.” He turned me toward the door, one hand going to the small of my back. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

“I’m fine.”

“No arguing.”

I looked around as he shuffled me to the door. “This was a dining room. It opened into a bigger space, but…” I slowed, craning my neck so I could see behind me.

“We’ll talk about it outside,” Jesse said, tightening his grip. He steered me through the door and onto the narrow sidewalk. Cold raindrops pelted my face and shoulders. Car taillights glared red in the damp afternoon light. Jesse kept his arm slung low around my back.

The vision sat behind my eyes, the colors refusing to fade. But why that one? I’d spent all day trying to peer into the past—or grab a glimpse of the future. Why did the fresco work when all my other attempts had failed? When I’d touched Carlo’s invitation, I’d seen the future without even trying.

I stopped so abruptly that Jesse stumbled at my side.

“Caleb, what are you⁠—?”

“I didn’t try,” I said. “I was too tired.”

His dark brows drew tight. Glancing around, he pulled me under a green-and-white striped awning. “What are you talking about?”

“When I touched Carlo’s invitation, I was tired from the morning. Same with the fresco just now. I’m wiped out from walking all over the place and dealing with crowds.”

Jesse studied me. “When you’re exhausted, your guard is down.”

“Maybe that’s how my gift works. I can’t force it.”

“That’s consistent with certain kinds of psychic magic,” he said. “You need to be in a receptive state, not an active one.”

A horn blared. I spun without conscious thought, my teeth bared before I’d decided to act. Irritation surged like acid, and a growl rumbled in my throat. My wolf paced my mind with impatient steps.

“Caleb,” Jesse said sharply. He punctuated the rebuke with a tight hand on my shoulder. Steps away, cars and scooters jockeyed for position at a traffic light.

I shoved back my beast. “Sorry,” I said, hot and cold flashing over me. Sweat beaded my upper lip, and I wiped it with a shaking hand. “I’m sorry.”

He tugged me from under the awning. “We’ll discuss it later. Right now, we’re going home before you fall down.”

Chapter

Thirteen

JESSE

“Ipromise I’m fine.”

Caleb said it like he was giving testimony under oath—which was exactly how he’d said it the previous dozen times since we’d returned home.

Now we had one hour until Francesco’s private performance. That gave me one hour to convince myself it wasn’t stupid to go.

I leaned against the doorframe and watched Caleb drag his electric shaver along his jaw. A white towel rode low on his hips. The bathroom was still warm from his shower, and the buzz of the razor floated around the steam that hung in the air. A tall glass of orange juice sat untouched on the counter. Suits hung on the back of the door—his and mine, delivered while we were out. The navy wool would look good against Caleb’s golden skin and even better on the floor.

He caught my reflection in the mirror. “Someone’s cranky.”

“We should skip the opera.”

He turned from the mirror with a frown, the shaver still buzzing in his hand. “Why? I saw some ancient Roman guys hanging out. It’s not a big deal.” He clicked off the shaver. “It means my gift is working. Isn’t that a good thing?”