Chapter 7 #2
Wood creaked, and Caleb appeared in the doorway wearing a T-shirt and a pair of pajama pants. His hair was damp, the blond darker than usual and curling at the ends. “I don’t know what you’re making, but I plan on smashing it.”
“Chicken piccata.” I nodded toward the table where I’d set out olive oil and bruschetta. “Sit.”
“Oui, chef,” he said, smiling at me as he obeyed. “What’s the Italian equivalent of that?”
I ladled extra sauce over the cutlets. “To be honest, I’m not sure. I’ve never worked in an Italian kitchen.”
He shot me a mischievous look. “Something to consider if you ever get sick of writing bestsellers.”
“I have my hands full feeding you.” I plated the chicken and gave it a final shot of fresh lemon. When I set a steaming plate in front of Caleb, he caught my hand and kissed the inside of my wrist. “It looks amazing, Jesse. Thank you.”
Something warm and solid flowed through the mate bond. “Love” was the official name, but it was more than that. It was complicated and not complicated at all.
It was a gift—something Caleb had given me long after I’d given up finding it.
My voice was thick as I brushed a thumb over his jaw, savoring the rasp of his stubble on my skin. “Watching you eat might be my favorite thing.”
Eyes twinkling, he turned his head and bit the tip of my thumb. “I’d like to go on record that I could make a sex joke right now but have chosen not to.”
It was useless fighting my smile. “Admirable restraint.”
“I think so.”
A buzzing sound filled the air behind me. I turned and went to my phone on the counter. The message on the screen was short.
6 p.m. audience tomorrow at Teatro della Rosa. Do not be late.
“What is it?” Caleb asked.
I set down the phone and carried my own plate to the table. “Stefanos has secured an audience tomorrow with Carlo Gesualdo.”
Caleb raised his eyebrows. “An audience? Like with a king?”
I spread my napkin on my lap. “That’s not too far off. Carlo was Prince of Venosa when he was human.”
Caleb frowned. “I thought he was a composer.”
“He was both. Renaissance nobles were often huge patrons of the arts, but history says he was obsessed with music.” I cut into my chicken.
“He doesn’t use his title or human name anymore.
Too many people would recognize it, so he calls himself Carlo Tesoro now.
But the supernatural community knows exactly who he is. ”
“And he’s a big deal,” Caleb said.
I nodded. “Carlo is one of five master vampires in all of Italy. And he’s the only master vampire in Rome. They don’t like to share power.”
Disgust moved through Caleb’s eyes. “Just pets.”
He’d reacted the same way the first time I told him how vampires fed.
Most kept stables of human donors who shared blood in exchange for the promise of immortality.
But the vampires fed their pets in dribbles, giving them just enough blood to extend their lifespans.
Over time, humans grew addicted to their benefactors.
If the vampire declined to turn them, they died from the withdrawal.
And vampires were notoriously selective about which humans they turned. The masters chose pets who possessed great beauty, skill, or talent. Those who didn’t make the cut—and few ever did—died in agony.
“They don’t like to share those, either,” I said.
Caleb set down his fork like he’d lost interest in the meal. “So we have to go see this guy tomorrow night.”
“Yes.”
“And we ask him if he’s seen Ulfrik at his vampire opera?”
I sipped my wine. “It’s not a vampire opera. Humans perform and attend without any knowledge of its ownership. We’ll have to be careful how we phrase our questions. Carlo will react poorly if he thinks we’re accusing him of something.”
Caleb frowned. “But he’s got to be involved in this Ulfrik shit, right? You think it’s a coincidence Ulfrik was just hanging out at Carlo’s opera house? That seems pretty suspicious to me.”
“It does,” I conceded, “but it’s also so obvious that I have to question it. Maybe a rival vampire is trying to frame Carlo and make a move on his territory. Maybe the witches are involved. Whatever is animating Ulfrik, it’s magic the Council has never encountered before.”
Worry rose swift and sour. I clamped down hard on the mate bond before it could flow to Caleb.
He studied me across the table. “Carlo agreed to meet. That means he wants to talk.”
“Maybe,” I said, aware that it was becoming my favorite word.
But pretty much everything was an unknown.
“Carlo knows that killing me would mean war with the Council. He’s unlikely to try it.
So we’ll go in tomorrow night with open hands.
We’ll ask about Ulfrik without suggesting Carlo had anything to do with his presence.
We’ll let him think we’ve come to him for help, not answers.
” I gave Caleb a pointed look. “And you’ll most definitely let me do the talking this time. ”
He held up both hands. “I’ll be good.”
“I mean it.” Worry reared its head again. “Carlo isn’t like Sterling. He’s not an ally. He’ll have people watching us the moment we step through the door. Possibly before. And he’ll scrutinize every word, every expression, every—”
“Jesse,” Caleb said, his expression steady. “I know.”
I exhaled. “Okay.”
His face didn’t change, but the slightest tension huddled around him. “Okay?”
He’d spent his whole life being bullied and dismissed. Doubted and underestimated. I wouldn’t serve him more of the same, no matter how much my wolf longed to lock him up to keep him safe.
“Okay,” I said.
He let another few seconds pass before he nodded and tucked back into his food. The chicken had cooled to the perfect temperature, and we ate quickly, pausing every now and then to drink wine or smile at each other.
Eventually, Caleb pushed his plate away. “I’m spent.”
“You sure?” I asked. “I think you only ate half the groceries.”
“I left some for a snack.” He wiped his mouth with his napkin before tucking it next to his plate. “And I distinctly remember you promising to make a snack out of my ass.”
My dick perked up. Although, who was I kidding? I’d been on edge since the kiss in the foyer.
I sat back in my chair and took my time looking him over, taking in his thick blond waves, the smattering of freckles on his nose, and the flush the wine had put in his cheeks. “It’s the middle of the afternoon, college boy.”
His lips parted, and his moan was so soft that anyone but a werewolf would have missed it.
But I was a werewolf. And he belonged to me.
He’d rested a hand on the table, and his fingers twitched against the wood. “Sounds like a perfect time to me.”
I stood and began collecting our plates. Caleb watched, tension vibrating off him. He knew he had to wait. The fact that he did it without being told was just as sexy as anything else he’d done.
We both knew the game. We both knew that if I told him to get on his knees, he’d do that, too.
But I kept him in his chair as I cleared the table and cleaned up the kitchen.
I scraped plates into the garbage and washed the dishes.
Wiped down the stove and counters with his stare on my skin.
Wet a paper towel and wiped breadcrumbs from the floor.
When I folded the dish towel, Caleb’s exhale was a sigh in the air.
At last, I turned. He had both hands on the table now, the flush in his cheeks deepened past what the wine could take credit for.
Slowly, I crossed the kitchen and stood behind his chair. When he didn’t move, I rested my hands on his shoulders and leaned down until my lips were at his ear.
“You were very good today,” I said quietly.
His breath caught. “I… Okay.”
“The vendors loved you.” I let my mouth brush the shell of his ear.
His hands curled against the wood.
“They were charmed.” Summoning my wolf, I let my fangs slide from my gums. Then I scraped the tip of one down his neck, following the path of the vein throbbing under his skin.
His shoulders lifted as he drew a shaky breath. “Jesse…”
“What do you think all those nice merchants would say if they knew you wanted to be fucked in the middle of the afternoon? Hmm?” Straightening, I speared a hand through his hair and tugged his head back, forcing him to stare up at me.
“That you’re just a couple of holes waiting to be filled?
You’d get on your hands and knees right now if I ordered it.
” I pulled his head back another half-inch.
“You’d let me take you over this table, wouldn’t you, college boy? ”
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Yes, sir.”
“Are you leaking?”
He closed his eyes on a long blink. “Yes, sir.”
I hooked one leg of his chair with my foot and dragged him backward. “Show me,” I ordered, nodding toward his groin.
He swallowed again as he fumbled at the waistband of his sweats. He’d skipped the tiny bikini briefs that drove me crazy, and his cock sprang free, hard and flushed and glistening at the tip.
“Good boy.” I tightened my grip in his hair, holding him in place while I reached down and wrapped my fingers around him.
He gave a broken whimper, his hips shifting in the chair.
“Stay,” I said, releasing him and slapping his dick.
He jerked, a gasp escaping him, and went still. On the table, he flexed his hands before pressing them flat. With the chair pulled back, his arms were stretched taut, the muscles under his golden skin a testament to the years he’d spent catching footballs for Hale Valley.
Suddenly, I couldn’t wait.
“Upstairs,” I said, stepping back.
He was out of the chair before I finished the command. And, good boy that he was, he didn’t even try to put his dick back in his pants.
I followed him up, clinging to my control with my eyes glued to the sweats riding low on his hips. He glanced back once, eyes glittering, and I pointed to the master suite.
He faced forward and walked faster.
We made it to the bedroom doorway before I caught him by the back of the neck and steered him inside. He went easily, his breathing uneven, and I kicked the door shut behind us.