Page 7 of Roguefinder

He opened at once, feeding me a gasp as hot as his tongue.

I opened my side of our bond as I kissed him, and he gave a second gasp, obviously absorbing another tight knot of my emotions. This one pulsed and crackled like something feral caught behind my ribs, all teeth and heat and want, clawing to get out of me and into him.

It should have scared him. And part of me braced for him to pull away. Instead, he moaned deep in his throat and met me stroke for stroke, matching my desire. Which shouldn’t have surprised me. Caleb had claimed me, his wolf sealing the mate bond from almost the moment we’d met. Maybe one day I’d stop forgetting that.

When we drew apart at last, his irises had lightened several shades.

“You’re not stupid,” I told him. “You’re mine.”

He licked his lips, capturing a drop of rain, and I had to suppress a groan.

“Yours,” he agreed, his voice a touch too deep to be human. Then one corner of his mouth kicked up. “But if you kiss me like that again, we’re not making it to Sterling’s office. We’ll be lucky to make it to the nearest flat surface. Or a wall. I’m not picky.”

I darted a look around in case any pedestrians had noticed me grinning like an idiot in the middle of London. My wolf wanted more—wanted to drag him into an alley and finish what we’d started. I reined it in, but I let the wanting stay. Caleb deserved to feel it through the bond.

“Noted,” I said, starting us forward again. “But when I take you apart, it won’t be against a wall in the rain.”

We neared the tower. With every step, the air shifted, pressure building like the moments before a storm breaks. Except it didn’t—it just hovered, held in place by magic the Moray witches had accumulated for centuries. The high rise was new. The money was not.

Caleb slowed. “I don’t like this.”

I put a hand on his shoulder and pitched my voice low. “You’re sensing Sterling’s wards.”

Understanding lit his eyes. “Like the one you buried around your house in France?”

“Our house,” I corrected. “Everything I own is yours. And, yes, this is like that.”

The tips of his ears had gone pink, and I didn’t think it was from the cold. “Back in France,” he said, “you told me that warding comes with age.”

“That’s true for us. The witches are different. They’re born with their magic, and they can speak it into being.”

“Like a spell?” Caleb waggled his fingers. “Abracadabra and shit?”

A laugh escaped me. “Not quite that cliche, but yes. It doesn’t work that way for us. Werewolves set wards with mental imagery.” I tapped my temple. “We picture a fence or a wall in our heads. But it’s tricky to master. No one can hold an image in their mind indefinitely. The ward unravels when we sleep or need to concentrate on something else. Nin and Stefanos are old enough to maintain some level of consciousness while they sleep, which makes their wards more reliable than most. But they’re still not as skilled as the witches.”

Caleb grunted. He waited for us to pass a couple of businessmen in cold weather gear before asking, “What about vampires? Can they set wards?”

I nodded. “Blood wards. They’re more permanent than ours, but they degrade over time.” I stopped as a bus hissed past, its headlights sweeping the pavement. The entrance to Moray Tower glowed just ahead of us. I’d seriously neglected his magical education. Of course, I’d spent the first month we were together lying to him. I’d been desperate to hide him from the Council, and I’d evaded any questions that risked exposing my deceit. Now that we’d started talking about wards, I owed him a deeper explanation.

“The Fae can create wards, too,” I said, “but their power is tied to the natural world. They don’t just wield magic. They are magic.”

He frowned. “So they’re the most powerful?”

“Technically, yes. Before the Iron Age, humans worshipped the Fae as gods. They ruled everything. Then iron overtook bronze. The witches saw an opening and seized it, incorporating iron into their spells. The Fae can’t tolerate it. Even small amounts of exposure weaken them, so they retreated to Undersomm.”

“I remember that word,” Caleb said. The wind picked up, and he hunched his shoulders. “You said nobody enjoys their time in Undersomm.”

“I’ve never heard anyone dispute that.” Some of the stories were hair-raising, to say the least. “Most of the Fae are older than you can wrap your mind around. They ruled the world for millennia and then got supplanted by iron and the witches. A lot of them are still angry about it.”

Caleb snorted. “Isn’t Undersomm their own private plane or whatever? Can’t they just be happy with ruling that?”

I knew my smile was wry. “History is full of stories about powerful people who didn’t know when to stop. The Fae are fascinating. Terrifying but fascinating. I have some great books on the German pantheon⁠—”

“Of course you do.”

“—if you’re interested.”

The wind sent another spray of icy mist under my collar, but I barely noticed. The big, golden man in front of me banished the cold, the spark of mischief in his blue eyes holding me captive. “I’ve already met a Viking,” he said. “It didn’t go great.”