Chapter 10
Chapter
Ten
JESSE
An hour later, Caleb moaned around a mouthful of steak so rare it was practically mooing. “Oh my god, I’m never eating anything else.”
I chuckled as I tore a piece of bread from the loaf between us.
But I kept my eyes on him. It was hard not to when he looked the way he did, his lips glistening with butter and his eyes dancing with the pleasure of a good meal.
His thin gray sweater stretched over his broad shoulders, and his blond waves were artfully messy.
I wanted to hustle him into the bathroom and mess them up for real.
And judging from the ocean of sexual tension flowing between us, he knew it.
“I’m glad you like it,” I said.
“I fucking love it.” He tensed, then shot me an exasperated look. “Sorry, I guess.”
“Yeah, you sound like it.”
His teeth gleamed white as he grinned. “What’s with the no-swearing thing, anyway?”
We sat in a secluded alcove, but I pitched my voice low. “Respect, mostly, but I guess you could call it tradition. Junior wolves don’t use profanity around their elders.” I sighed. “Like a lot of traditions, it’s probably outdated. If you want to swear around me, go ahead.”
He smiled. Then he leaned forward, curiosity brimming in his eyes. “Where are all the others? Do you live in packs or something?”
I should have anticipated the question. It was natural for him to wonder. But telling him about other werewolves would open the door to more questions—including ones I wasn’t prepared to answer just yet.
“No packs,” I said, dragging my bread through the olive oil and herbs on my plate. “The others are scattered around the globe. We mostly keep to ourselves. As for your non-apology, I suppose I can just punish you later.” I popped the bread into my mouth.
The innuendo had the desired effect of steering his attention away from other werewolves.
Even in the restaurant’s dim lighting, pink tinged his cheeks.
But if the lust sizzling across our bond was any indication, his blush stemmed from desire rather than any sense of shyness.
As far as I could tell, Caleb Lawson didn’t possess a bashful bone in his body.
Throughout dinner, he’d sized me up the same way he did his steak.
Even our waiter, a slim gay man, had noticed, raising his brows when Caleb handed over his menu and said, “I’ll have the Wagyu ribeye.
” Caleb had smiled at me, adding, “Since I’m not paying for it. ”
I plucked the bottle of wine from the table and refilled our glasses.
Caleb picked his up and sipped, his gaze turning thoughtful over the rim.
I followed his lead, letting the expensive red roll over my tongue as I waited for him to ask the questions that had brewed in his eyes since we left Hale Valley.
He set down his glass. “Have you always lived in New York?”
“Not always.” I toyed with the handle of the butter knife next to my plate. “I attended a teacher’s college near Hale Valley when I was young, and I taught high school in the area for a few years. I got my master’s degree from Syracuse. After that, I taught at the university here in Albany.”
He straightened, clearly recognizing the door I’d just opened. “What kind of classes did you teach?”
“History. My area of concentration is World War I.”
Our gazes held, and he seemed to choose his next words carefully. “Is there a reason for that?”
Damn, he was smart. I pulled my phone from my pocket, opened the camera app, and swiped to a photo I’d scanned from the original, which was too delicate to carry around. Then I slid the phone across the table.
He expanded the photo with his thumb and forefinger, studying the image for a moment before lifting his eyes to mine. “Your great-grandfather?”
My heart thumped faster. Christ, was I nervous?
The answer came immediately: Hell, yes. Caleb’s wolf had claimed mine, but the man still ruled the beast. He could reject me.
Abruptly, I realized I didn’t want that.
Despite all the obstacles our bond presented, I wanted to know more about the big, golden-blond man across from me.
If I was really honest with myself, I wanted to know everything.
I drew a deep breath. “I think we both know that’s not my great-grandfather.”
For a moment, silence reigned. I braced for Caleb’s features to crease in disbelief—or disgust. Instead, he slowly sat back in his chair.
“Well, that’s a bigger age gap than I thought.
” He studied me, his blue eyes roving my face.
“It’s hard to believe. I mean, I do believe it.
But you look and act like a college student. ”
My nerves quieted. He hadn’t jumped up and fled the table. That was a good sign, right?
“I had to stop teaching,” I said, long-buried resentment stirring.
“I loved it, but I wasn’t aging. Clothes and attitude can make you look older, but changing your appearance will only get you so far.
” I ran a hand over my jaw, stubble scratching my palm.
“I’ve looked like this all my adult life.
I don’t know if it’ll make any sense, but I’ve never really felt any older.
Maybe because people have never treated me like an older person. ”
Caleb nodded. “You Cullened out.”
“Pardon?”
“Edward Cullen. You know, Twilight. His character was way older than the girl he liked.” I must have given him a blank stare, because he widened his eyes. “You’ve never read it?”
“It’s a book?”
“And a movie. A whole series of movies, actually.” Caleb lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender.
“Just saying, I owe Taylor Lautner big time. I suspected I was into dudes, but I was confused about it for a while. Then Taylor took off his shirt in that forest.” He smiled, a devilish twinkle in his eyes. “Suspicions banished.”
It was hard not to return his smile, even if I’d developed an instant dislike for this Taylor guy. Although, if his chest was truly that spectacular…
“I’ll have to watch it,” I said.
“You can thank me later.”
I’d love to thank you right now. The emotion behind the thought must have shivered across the bond because the pulse in his neck fluttered a little faster. We stared at each other across the table, the votive candle in the center flickering over the remnants of our forgotten meals.
“Doing okay over here, gentlemen?”
The waiter’s voice snapped me to attention. “Yes,” I said, “and we’ll have another bottle of wine.”
The man slid a look toward Caleb before nodding. “Sure thing. I’ll bring it right over.” He moved off, his black pants hugging an impressive ass.
Caleb didn’t appear to notice. “Is your name really Jesse van der Meer?” he asked.
With a glance in the direction the waiter had headed, I pulled out my wallet, flipped it open, and showed Caleb my driver’s license.
“It’s my real name. Aside from the birth year, all this information is correct, including my address.
My house in Hale Valley is built on land my family used to own.
We had a farm when I was young. I sold to a developer in the eighties, but I kept a few properties for myself.
” I replaced my wallet just as the waiter reappeared.
Once he uncorked the wine and left, I turned back to Caleb.
“I was born in 1896. I enlisted when I was twenty-one years old. The minute I finished my training, Uncle Sam shipped me to the front line in France.”
Caleb frowned. “I thought Uncle Sam was a World War II thing.”
“Oh no, he’s been around a lot longer than that.” I smiled. “We’ll have to brush up on your history.”
“Great.”
I laughed. Then memories swarmed, and I grabbed my wine and took a healthy sip. My unease must have flowed through the bond, because Caleb reached across the table and took my hand.
“We don’t have to talk about this, Jesse. The war and stuff.”
I twined my fingers with his. “No, it’s okay.
I was wounded pretty badly within months of arriving in France.
The trenches were filthy, uncomfortable places.
Graves, really.” I shook my head. “I don’t know how long I lingered on the edge of death.
A medic and a few others from my platoon looked after me for a while, but I eventually ended up alone. ”
“They left you there?” Caleb demanded, anger leaping into his eyes. “The guys you served with abandoned you?”
“It was war. I don’t blame those men for anything that happened to me.
They probably thought I was dead. And I would have died, but a werewolf found me and turned me.
His name was Philippe de Boisseaux. Technically, he was a French count, but France didn’t have a peerage in 1917.
” More memories surfaced—Philippe’s accented voice shouting about Bolsheviks and a world gone to merde ringing in my head.
I shoved them away. “Philippe had been born a count, though, and he still acted like one. He lived on the same estate his family had owned for more than four hundred years. It was quite the eye-opener for an ignorant farm kid from upstate New York.”
Caleb lowered his voice. “Was he gay?”
“Yes.”
“Did he know you were? When he turned you, I mean.”
I gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I’m not sure I knew, to be honest. Although, that’s not entirely true.
” I toyed with Caleb’s fingers as I gathered my thoughts.
“It’s more accurate to say I never had an opportunity to act on my desires.
The world was a more rigid place back then.
But Philippe came from a different time and a completely different social class.
Sex for pleasure and sex for procreation were separate spheres for someone like him.
A man in his position in the era of his youth thought nothing of taking male lovers.
He’d married for duty and produced an heir, although his human family had died out by the time I met him. ”
Caleb’s brows drew together. “That must have been hard for him.”