Page 84 of Roguefinder

I nodded even as doubt lingered like floaters after a hard tackle. “Did Emile and Philippe—?” I stopped. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t— You don’t have to⁠—”

“It’s okay,” he said, taking pity on me. “As far as I know, Philippe had a sexual relationship with every man he turned. But many of the wolfseekers he made died before he turned me, so it’s possible some of them weren’t willing to give him what he wanted.”

He said it matter-of-factly, as if he recounted something from one of his history books. But this was his life, not some dusty battle from hundreds of years ago.

“What did he want?” I asked, feeling like I held something fragile and expensive. I had to be so careful not to break it.

“Control,” Jesse said. “Philippe needed to be in charge at all times in every room.” He paused, and his expression gentled. “I get why you might worry, but it’s not an issue. Whatever I felt for Philippe, time has a way of clarifying things. Infatuation and love look similar when you’re living them.” His thumb moved over my knee. “Emile is a decent man. He gave me the truth. I don’t feel any animosity toward him.”

Some of the floaters faded. He didn’t sound sad or burdened by the past. But he’d opened a door into it, and now I wanted to nudge it wider.

“You’re one of four wolfseekers left in the world.”

“Yes.”

“You’ve obviously met Emile. What about the other two?”

“I’ve met them, but I’ve never spent much time around them.” Jesse offered a wry smile. “The Council makes the most of its assets, and they get more mileage out of us by spreading us around. Jean Fabri has a house in the Balkans. Andre Von Dach never lives anywhere for long. Last I heard, he was staying in Australia.”

“Philippe turned another Dutch guy?”

“Swiss,” Jesse said. “But everyone knows the Dutch do it better.”

“Do what better?”

His smile turned smug. “Everything.”

I sat back in my chair and folded my arms. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”

His hand on my knee tightened, and his wolf moved through his eyes. “You absolutely will, college boy, because Dutch is all you’re getting.”

Damn.

A little devil whispered for me to push him until he gave in and took a wooden spoon to my ass. I’d washed two of them while he worked, all kinds of impure thoughts forming alongside the bubbles. It wasn’t the worst idea I’d ever had.

But he was tired. It showed in the faint smudges under his eyes and the slight droop in his shoulders. He’d been up since five, and our argument and opera house detour hadn’t exactly been restful.

“Hey,” I said, shifting so my knees were tucked between his thighs. “Why don’t we go upstairs and grab a couple hours of sleep? I’ll give you a back rub.” I reached for him.

The second my fingers circled his forearm, the world dropped from under me.

I landed on my knees. Amber light spilled over a plush carpet and my bare thighs. But they were all wrong.

Panic climbed my throat as I stared down at the dark hair on my thighs and groin. I was nude, a whisper of cool air raising goosebumps on skin that didn’t fit.

Because it didn’t belong to me.

The penis between my legs was soft, the foreskin covering the head.

Recognition flared just as dark boots appeared in front of me. My heart thumped hard against my ribs as I let my gaze travel up dark wool trousers and a white shirt opened to show a smooth chest.

A man with light brown hair pulled back in a ponytail stared down at me with eyes that were probably blue when his wolf wasn’t in them. But they were an icy silver now, his irises so pale they were almost colorless.

He slid a hand under my jaw, and the edge of his pinky ring pressed hard against my cheek. “Mon petit loup,” Philippe said in his upper class French, and I understood it because Jesse did. I breathed with Jesse’s lungs and saw with Jesse’s eyes. Felt the sting of the welts Philippe had just put across my back. His riding crop rested on the table behind him, along with his clamps and bowls of hot wax. The pinky ring was a signet ring, the center stamped with his family crest so he could press it into wax to seal letters or mark my body as his. Jesse knew these things, which meant I knew them, too.

“Is this how you thank me?” he murmured.

The body I wore trembled. My borrowed heart hammered against ribs larger than my own.