Chapter 2
Chapter
Two
JESSE
The cab’s tree-shaped air freshener didn’t quite mask the layers of perfume, stale cigarettes, and human sweat. Not to my nose, anyway.
If Caleb scented the cab’s previous occupants, he gave no sign of it.
He’d spent the ride from the townhouse staring at the rain-soaked city through the window.
He bounced his knee in a steady rhythm, filling the vehicle’s interior with the creak of vinyl.
Every couple of minutes, his fingers twitched against his thigh—a quick, subtle movement I didn’t think he was aware of.
My heart flipped over. Caleb was nervous…
and a little afraid. He wore snark like armor, but I saw between the gaps.
And I could hardly blame him for feeling apprehensive about meeting Sterling.
Every encounter with the supernatural world had cost him something.
But he wasn’t alone anymore, and I’d die before I let anyone hurt him.
Correction: I’d rip any threat limb from limb.
Then I’d eliminate anyone who came for either of us.
Because my whole purpose in life was making sure Caleb was safe, which meant staying safe for him.
Deep in my mind, my wolf paced, a growl rumbling in its throat.
The beast ached to protect our mate. It yanked at my control, eager to snap its restraints and kill anyone who came near him.
Caleb kept his gaze glued to the window, his knee doing double time. Slowly, I reached over and rested my hand on his thigh.
He startled, then jerked his head toward me. He looked at my hand, and a sheepish expression stole over his features. “Sorry,” he murmured.
I gave his muscle a light squeeze. “Don’t be.” Reaching inward, I tapped the bond that lived in the center of my chest. Then I pushed, sending the hot, tangled mess of violence and possessiveness across the connection.
Caleb’s eyes flared, his sky-blue irises framed by thick lashes a few shades darker than his hair. His lips parted, and shock warbled across the bond.
“That surprises you?” I mouthed with a glance at the driver. Caleb’s throat bobbed. He gave a shallow nod.
Holding his stare, I slid my hand higher, skimming my palm up his inner thigh. His eyes went heavy-lidded, and the smoky scent of his desire hit my lungs.
With another covert look at the cabbie, I smiled at Caleb and mouthed, “It shouldn’t.” Maybe “willingness to murder” wasn’t the most romantic sentiment in the world, but my wolf didn’t care about social norms.
The cabbie slowed, pulling to the curb where I’d directed him.
Caleb and I exited, and the driver eased back into traffic.
The rain had slowed to something finer than a drizzle, and mist hung in the chilly air.
The Thames snaked its way through the city at our backs, its black surface sparkling with light from the buildings.
Caleb gazed around the jumble of Victorian warehouses and sleek high rises. “Which one is Moray Tower?”
“None of them,” I said, gesturing him forward. “We’ll go the rest of the way on foot.”
“Seriously?”
I nodded as he fell into step beside me. “I don’t want any nosy humans connecting us to Sterling. I also don’t like approaching a building without walking the final stretch. If there’s an ambush waiting, I’d rather spot it before it spots me.”
He shot me a quick grin. “You can take the soldier out of the Army…”
The twinkle in his eyes sent heat crawling over my nape. “I guess I never thought of it that way. But you might have a point.”
He ducked his head, his smile in place. Mist clung to his eyelashes, turning them spiky.
Amber light from the street lamps made the freckles on the bridge of his nose look like gold dust. He would have laughed at me if he knew my thoughts.
Rolled his eyes and accused me of writing bad poetry.
But he would have blushed, that telltale pink stain spreading over his cheeks.
Caleb needed to be reminded he was loved. He needed to know I’d mapped those freckles, tracing the constellations on his skin while he slept. He needed someone willing to embarrass themselves over him. And I was so game.
“What does Moray Corporation actually do?” he asked now, his breath forming a hazy cloud.
“Officially? Finance. They loan capital to other businesses who use it to acquire more businesses. Unofficially, they hoard power by perfecting their spells. For the right price, they’ll create them for just about anyone. But the price is always astronomical.” I squinted ahead. “Nearly there.”
Caleb followed my gaze, recognition in his eyes as he spotted the glass tower with “Moray” at the top. The building loomed over its neighbors, its windows reflecting the Thames and the city lights beyond.
A sharp caw made me pause and turn. A handful of carrion crows picked at a patch of waterlogged grass lined with empty park benches.
“Everything okay?” Caleb asked.
I nodded and motioned him forward. “Yeah. Let’s keep moving.”
Lightning split the sky, turning the wet streets white. Thunder boomed on its heels. A few people across the street flinched, and a woman near a crosswalk grabbed her companion’s arm with a high-pitched yelp.
Caleb looked at her, then at me. “Why is everyone so freaked out? It’s just thunder.”
“England doesn’t get severe thunderstorms the way we do in the States. Most people here aren’t used to it.”
He eyed the sky, where storm clouds were bloated shadows against the darkness. “They’d lose their shit over a tornado.”
“Probably,” I said, memories stirring. “I hated herding the cows into the barn when the weather got bad.”
Caleb gave me a curious look. “You mean when you were a kid?”
“Yes.”
The curiosity in his eyes deepened. He knew the broad strokes: the farm, my Dutch parents, the war.
He knew my folks had died without knowing I was gay or a werewolf.
He knew about Philippe finding me dying in a trench and turning me, and he knew why: Philippe had been searching for someone impossible to find, and I hadn’t measured up.
But Caleb didn’t know the smaller things.
A century of living produced far more unremarkable details than remarkable ones, and most of mine weren’t worth the breath it would take to share them.
“The cows don’t head for the barn on their own?”
Caleb’s question jerked my attention back to him. I cleared my throat. “No. Well, not usually. Most of them just turn their backs to the wind.”
He was quiet for a moment. Then he bumped his shoulder against mine. “I bet you were a good farmer.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Hardly.”
He shot me a look from under his lashes. “You were,” he insisted, and he turned his gaze forward. “You’re good at wrangling stubborn, stupid things.”
My breath caught. Because we weren’t talking about cows anymore. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the rain picked up, but I grabbed his hand and pulled him to a stop. Before he could question it, I palmed his nape and smashed my mouth to his.
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. ”