Page 80 of Roguefinder

I tilted my head, letting his stubble rasp against my knuckles. “We’re good, Jesse. I love you a disgusting amount.”

That got a laugh out of him, and some of the fear in the bond faded.

Smiling, I pulled him toward the street.

Chapter

Fifteen

JESSE

Iheld the brick wall in my mind as Caleb and I neared the opera house. Relief made it lighter than it might have been.

A hundred and thirty years of living and I’d still managed to make the same mistake twice. Caleb had forgiven me anyway. I was a lucky bastard—one who would not be going for a three-peat. As he’d bluntly reminded me, I didn’t control him unless he allowed it. I didn’t even want to. But I’d used my protective instincts as an excuse to keep him in the dark. I’d assumed he couldn’t handle information.

And my mate had showed his teeth and forced a course correction.

The opera house appeared ahead of us. The glass conservatory on the roof glittered in the morning sunlight.

My wolf paced in my mind, its hair standing on end. The beast wanted nothing to do with the opera house. Neither did I, but Caleb’s logic was sound. The door had affected him in ways nothing else had. Now Carlo and the other vampires were unconscious, their resting places guarded by their pets. We might not get another chance to get close to Carlo.

As we crossed the street, Caleb looked at me with a question in his eyes.

“The ward is holding,” I said under my breath.

He nodded, and we slipped around the side of the opera house and headed toward the service door. A cat picking its way along the base of the building saw us and froze. Its whiskers twitched, and its tail turned into a bottle brush. After a second, it bolted.

Caleb smiled and murmured, “Guess we’re never gonna be cat dads.”

My heart did a somersault, the last word ringing in my mind. Fatherhood had always been something for other people. But now Caleb had said it, and the word landed in my head like it had been dropped out of the belly of a B-17.

The wall in my head crumbled.

Caleb gave me a quizzical look. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Just⁠—”

A figure stepped from the shadows.

I put a hand on Caleb’s arm.

The man was human, but his scent was stripped bare. Carlo hadn’t replaced it. Nothing replaced it, which meant the man stood two feet in his grave. A light breeze would push him into it.

His gaze slid over us, recognition flickering in his sunken eyes. He knew what we were. Undoubtedly, he’d been briefed on both of us.

He might have been a big man at some point but he was frail now, his shoulders curved forward and his spine bowed. Waxy white scalp showed through his thinning brown hair. I’d seen pets in late-stage addiction before. Carlo had bled him without replenishment, dragging him to the edge of usefulness. The only thing that could restore him now was being turned.

Caleb was stiff as cardboard beside me, his revulsion a cold flow through our bond.

“Signor Tesoro is not receiving visitors,” the pet said in a voice much stronger than his appearance. He shuffled around like he meant to walk away.

I stepped forward. “We’re not here to see him.”

The pet turned back.

“We saw last night’s performance,” I said. “We were so taken with it that we forgot our program. We wondered if we could pick one up.” I risked another step forward and conjured the smile that had worked on disgruntled restaurant patrons and hostile department chairs. “I’m also a writer with contacts at several music journals.”

It was technically true—as long as the pet didn’t ask which decade they were from.