Page 7 of Brandon’s Mate

Jasmin shook her head. Kitty hadn’t really expected any other answer. No one had heard from Brandon in years. Nobody even had a clue where he was—except maybe Flynn, their alpha, who knew everything and told no one.

Kitty said, “I’m worried he’s really in trouble. The dream felt… I don’t know. Real. Like, even though I didn’t recognize the building, I felt like it was a real place. And whatever I was seeing, it was really going to happen.”

Jasmin winced. “Please don’t tell me you’re starting to have prophetic dreams.”

She sounded really worried—and for good reason. Both Kitty’s dad and her Grandma Adele had suffered from the special powers that often manifested in white wolves—and in Adele’s case, the mental instability that sometimes came with it. But since Kitty was only a quarter white wolf—and half not a wolf at all—she knew they’d all hoped she’d escape any bad effects.

If Jasmin knew about the bad effects she already had—AKA Monster Wolf—she’d be even more worried than she was now. And her dad would freak out.

Which was one reason why Kitty had never told anyone.

Now she said lightly, “Dad gave me the white wolf woo-woo genes. If I’m having some kind of weirdo visions, you can blame him.”

Jasmin grinned wickedly at that, and raised her voice slightly. “I always blame him. What are mates for?”

“I heard that.” Kitty caught her dad’s scent just as he spoke from behind them. “Maligning me as usual, when everyone knows I’m the only perfect one in this family. Make way!”

Brody grabbed the ceiling beam over the porch swing, tucked up his legs and hoisted himself over the back of the swing. With the ease of long practice, Kitty and her mom slid to either side just before he landed between them.

“Best seat in the house,” he said with satisfaction. “Between my two favorite girls.”

“Who you almost squashed,” Kitty said. “Even worse, you almost squashed the cupcakes. Respect the junk food.”

Brody ignored that, wrapping an arm around each of them and snuggling them into his sides. Nothing made her dad happier than being surrounded by his family. “My girls okay?” he asked.

“No,” Kitty said gloomily. “I am fucked up, thank you very much.”

Brody kissed the top of her head. “Well, you’re a Bad Blood,” he said. “I guess fucked up comes with the territory. What’s this prophetic vision bullshit?”

Kitty shrugged, playing it down. “No prophecies. Just a bad dream about Brandon. And that feeling I used to get whenever he was in trouble.”

“Which was always,” Brody said. “And he probably hasn’t changed.”

Kitty frowned. “You never liked Brandon.”

Brody sighed. “Kitten, all of us love Brandon. He was the first cub in the crew, and we all have a special feeling for him. But that boy was a hundred pounds of trouble in a fifty-pound bag—it spilled out all around him. I just never wanted you to get hurt.”

“I’m a Bad Blood,” Kitty said, digging into another cupcake. “We laugh in the face of pain.”

Brody kissed her again. “You’re also my baby wolfling. I’d bleed a hundred troublemaking panthers before I’d see one hair on your hide damaged. I’ll do it now. Just tell me when and where.”

Kitty hugged him. Nothing made a Bad Blood feel all warm and fuzzy like an offer of violence on their behalf. “I’ll get back to you on that. Cupcake?” She held the package out to him.

Brody untangled his arms from around Kitty and her mother and took one. He bit off the bottom, then started scooping the cream filling out with his finger and licking it off.

Jasmin wrinkled her nose. “Gross. You two are disgusting.”

Brody just grinned. “You know you love us. Sooo much. It makes you all squishy inside.”

“You know jaguars pounce on their prey and suffocate it, right?”

Brody bent his head and kissed her nose. Jasmin rolled her eyes, but she smiled. Score.

Kitty munched on her cupcake, deep in thought, letting the sound of their banter soothe her. She knew her mom and dad would slay demons for her in a heartbeat. But she was grown up now, and she’d spent too much time hiding in the safety of her home crew.

She had to start dealing with her own shit.

Licking the last of the chocolate from her fingers, she got up and kissed them both, telling them she was going back to bed. But she didn’t.