“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 Iwould 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 tomerderinging 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 sureIknew, 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.”
I swallowed. Then I chose my next words carefully. “Philippe never liked speaking about his family. He took his own life. We hadn’t been together long. He’d lost someone important years before he turned me, and he never got over it.”
Caleb went quiet. He looked down at our joined hands, his brow still furrowed. He wanted to ask something and had decided against it.
“It’s okay,” I said. “Whatever you want to know.”
He looked up. “You slept with this count?” A faint flush stole across his cheeks. “I mean, you were together, right?”
“Yes. But Philippe was also my sire, so that was just one part of our relationship. Even without the sexual component, I would have stayed with him so he could help me learn how to survive as a wolf.”
“Does it always work that way? The new werewolf lives with the werewolf who turned him?”
“Almost always, yes. It takes a strong wolf to help the new wolf maintain control.”
Caleb’s stare grew intense. “You didn’t turn me, obviously. So who did?”
“A rogue,” I said bluntly. “I wasn’t certain at first, but it’s the only explanation. Sometimes, even experienced werewolves lose the connection with their human side. The beast takes over, erasing all the empathy and higher reasoning skills that separate humans from animals. Eventually, rogues can’t shift anymore, and they end up stuck on four legs. But they can still attack. They can still turn others, even though they don’t mean to. When they attack, they intend to kill. But sometimes their victims survive.”
Caleb had gone pale under his tan. “That’s what happened to me.” He made it a statement, but I nodded anyway.
“Our laws forbid us to turn others without their consent. You didn’t deserve that, Caleb, and I’m sorry. But I promise I’ll get you through your first shift. Your wolf must have sensed my gift. It’s probably why your beast latched onto mine like it did.”
One corner of his mouth quirked up. “Well, it might have had other reasons.”
A potent mix of heat, amusement, and relief wound through me. Still, I had to be certain he understood the reality of any sort of relationship between us. “Does it bother you knowing I’m a century older?”
“I won’t lie and say it doesn’t blow my mind a little.” He gave my chest a blatantly admiring look. “But when you look like you do…” He shook his head. “I can’t think of you as a grandpa.”
Good grief. Where was our waiter so I could order another bottle of wine? “Well, I’m not a grandpa, so put that thought out of your head.”
