Chapter 4 #2
“I’ll be right back,” I said. His grunt of acknowledgment followed me as I left the bed and fetched a warm washcloth from the bathroom. When I returned, he was still facedown, one arm dangling off the mattress. I sat beside him and drew the cloth over his shoulders and down his back.
“Roll over,” I murmured, and he obeyed, peeking up at me through gold lashes as I worked the cloth over his abs, his cock, the mess I’d made of his thighs. I guided one of his knees up, and he bit his lip when I blotted his hole. When I stepped back, a lazy smile curled the corner of his mouth.
“Thanks for the bath,” he said. “You going to tuck me in, Daddy?”
Snorting, I crossed the room and tossed the washcloth into the hamper. Then I returned to the bed and pulled him into my arms. He sighed and pressed his nose against my throat. I closed my eyes, breathing him in.
We lay like that for a while, tangled together with his head on my chest and one of his thighs hitched over mine. Rain pummeled the roof. The sounds of the London night intruded, distant horns blaring and the occasional car splashing past.
Eventually, I ran a hand down his hip. “How do you feel?”
“Like that chicken you made the other night,” he said.
A startled laugh escaped me. “What?”
He looked up. “You spent half an hour pounding it flat. That’s my ass right now. Bread me and stick me in the oven.”
More laughter shook my chest. Then my amusement faded, and worry crept in. “Was I too rough?”
“No.” He pulled free and lifted onto his elbow. “You don’t have to worry about hurting me, Jesse. I might be a slut, but I’m not a martyr. I’ll safeword out if I can’t handle something.”
Relief washed over me. I found his hand and threaded my fingers through his. “I didn’t mean to suggest you can’t handle yourself when it comes to sex. But I love you. It makes me irrational.”
His breath hitched. Emotion darted through his eyes so quickly that I might have missed it. But I’d seen it before. Disbelief—not that I loved him, but that he deserved it.
“I love you,” I repeated. “I also respect you. I want to make that very clear. What we do in bed doesn’t mean I think of you as any less capable. You’re young, not stupid, and you’re learning all the time.”
Silence stretched as he seemed to pick through my words, probably looking for traps or hidden meaning. He did that often, and I was certain he didn’t realize it. He was like a feral animal wary of kindness. Always, Caleb waited for the mask to come off and reveal the cruelty beneath.
He broke my heart. He made me want to gather him up and hold him until he trusted me. But trust didn’t work like that. I had to be patient—to continue loving him until he let down his guard for good.
“Okay,” he said finally. A rueful look crossed his features. “I wasn’t very capable with Sterling tonight.”
I smiled. “No, but you earned a sore ass for it. I don’t think you’ll forget again.”
He ran his fingers down my chest, parting the hair into little furrows. “It was fucking hot, though. I thought my dick was going to explode.” He looked up. “And that was before you brought out the dildo. What made you choose purple?”
“I have other colors.”
His eyes lit up. “Only you would Roy G. Biv sex toys. Do you consider that one indigo or violet?”
I reached down and pinched the tip of his dick. “Keep teasing me and I’ll make sure you find out.”
Laughing, he pushed his hips into my hand. “Always threatening me with a good time.”
We smiled at each other, and I probably looked as lovesick as I felt. But reality intruded, bringing fresh worry with it.
Sitting up, I ran a hand through my hair. Caleb followed, one forearm resting on his knee as he waited for me to talk.
“I’ve never liked this assignment,” I said.
“I like it even less now that the vampires appear to be involved. Carlo Gesualdo is dangerous in ways you’ve never encountered.
He won’t attack us outright. He doesn’t want a war.
But we need to tread carefully.” I ran the back of my hand down Caleb’s shin.
“That means letting me take the lead while we investigate his connection to Ulfrik.”
“I know,” he said. “For the record, I’m sorry about Sterling. Did I fuck things up too much? He knows about my gift now.”
“He probably already suspected. The Moray Corporation has eyes everywhere. And Nin and Stefanos have been looking for a seer to train you. The truth would have gotten out eventually, and I have a feeling Nin doesn’t mind the supernatural community knowing we have someone with your gift on our side. Sterling obviously got wind of it.”
“He’s bisexual,” Caleb said.
I smiled. “Did you think they were a myth?”
He rolled his eyes. “No. But his secretary definitely didn’t like him fucking that weather woman.”
“I expect not. But Sterling plays his own games. If Blaine didn’t want to be there, Sterling wouldn’t force it. Both parties have to consent.”
The rain had stopped at some point. Moonlight cut through the window and fell in a pale bar across the bed. Caleb’s expression turned thoughtful. “He used telekinesis tonight.”
Awareness buzzed in my mind. It was obvious where Caleb was going with this. But it was better to let him get there on his own. “Yes,” I said carefully.
The look in his eyes let me know he’d guessed my thoughts. An edge slipped into his voice as he asked, “Are you going to tell me what you did to make him give you telekinesis?”
I captured his hand, brought it to my mouth, and kissed his knuckles. “Sterling is bi, but he’s not interested in me. Even if he was, we’re both too dominant to ever consider something sexual. It would be a disaster. As for the favor, I tracked a wolf who hurt his sister.”
Surprise crossed Caleb’s face. “Sterling has a sister?”
I nodded. “Cressida is fifteen years younger, but she’s more powerful than Sterling.”
“Really?” Delight flared in Caleb’s eyes. “I bet that keeps him up at night.”
I bit my lip against a smile. Sterling’s himbo comment had landed hard. “Cressida was sixteen years old when a werewolf approached her. He spent several months trying to get close to her. And he succeeded.”
A shrewd look entered Caleb’s eyes. “She slept with him.”
“Yes, but Cressida was merely a means to an end. He wanted the Moray grimoire, a collection of spells and wards the Morays have accumulated over the centuries. He used her to get access to it. By the time Cressida realized the truth, he’d stolen it. Sterling asked me to hunt him down.”
“He couldn’t find this guy on his own?” Caleb asked.
“This particular wolf had a gift for illusion, and he could make himself undetectable for short periods of time. It’s a rare kind of magic among werewolves.
Not even the most powerful witches can see through the glamour.
A rival coven of the Morays recruited him to get the grimoire.
They promised a bonus if he killed Cressida. Double if he killed Sterling.”
Caleb let out a low whistle. “You weren’t kidding about the witches being political.”
“Trust me, that’s putting it mildly.” Memory carried me back to Sterling’s icy fury, which had frosted the windows of his study. “Sterling asked me to track down the wolf, and I agreed.”
“Why?” Caleb asked. “Weren’t you worried about pissing off the Council?”
“It was a risk,” I admitted. “But I was done letting the Council have a stranglehold on my life. I saw an opportunity to form an alliance, and I took it. Sterling promised to keep my involvement a secret. And it was in his best interest to do so. The wolf seduced Cressida right under his nose and nearly killed both Moray heirs in the process. If word got out, it would be a fatal blow to the Morays, and Sterling knew it.”
Caleb grew quiet, obviously turning over the story in his mind. A frown creased his forehead. “If this other coven of witches hired the werewolf, they could blab and tell everyone they got close to killing Sterling and his sister. Wasn’t he worried about that?”
“It’s logical to think so,” I said. “But confessing their involvement would force him to retaliate. Sterling knows who they are, and they know he knows. But no one wants open war, so they pretend nothing ever happened. Everyone saves face.”
Caleb looked impressed. “Mutual blackmail as a truce.”
“Sterling plays a long game,” I said. “At the end of the day, I did him a favor. And he repaid me by giving me telekinesis.”
Caleb’s gaze was steady. “Did you kill the wolf?”
“Sterling handled it. The werewolf had seduced a sixteen-year-old girl and then tried to silence her. The witches don’t leave that kind of loose end.” I kept my voice neutral. “They’re ruthless. Sterling would say they have to be.”
“Does Cressida know you tracked down the werewolf?”
“She knows someone outside the Moray coven retrieved the grimoire. She doesn’t know it was me. Sterling felt that was best, and I agree.”
Caleb’s frown returned. “Is Cressida okay now?”
It didn’t surprise me that he’d shot past the politics to the person. His smartass shell hid a soft center.
“It was years ago,” I said. “Cressida is even more powerful now, and she’s never let anyone get close to her again.” I paused. “Possibly to her detriment.”
His eyes softened. “That’s a shame.”
“Sterling is the same way. He maintains iron control in every area of his life, including sex.”
“All those prim and proper Dom and sub rules, huh?”
I let my smile go lazy. “Rules are important, baby. But that doesn’t mean I don’t like it when you break them. You looked really good over my knee.”
Lust moved through the bond in a languid current. Mischief and heat gleamed in his eyes. Slowly, he stretched his arms over his head, unabashed in his nudity, the elegant lines of his shoulders enough to make Michelangelo weep.
“What about when I rode your indigo dildo?” he asked, deepening the stretch. “Did I look good then?”
Shaking my head, I flicked one of his nipples. “Brat. You know how fucking good you look.”