Page 10 of Bad Blood Wolf

Jasmin tried to ignore the little icicle that stabbed through her heart. It wasn’t like she was jealous. The last thing she wanted was a mate. Mates were selfish and demanding and stomped on your heart if you were stupid enough to open it up to them.

But all that gooey love was hard to be around. The rest of them were still messed up, still missing their old lives and everything they’d lost.

Tank’s and Lissa’s happiness was making everybody antsy. Or maybe nauseous.

Still, she watched as the two bears stopped for a moment on the porch, seeing Lissa whisper something to Tank, watching the sappy smile spread over his face, heart in his eyes as he looked at her.

He’d always been the softest of all of them, despite being a terrifying brawler. Jasmin wasn’t soft like that, she told herself.

But something still ached in her as she watched them. A little empty place that seemed to have opened up overnight. And that brought a vision of long blond hair and Viking cheekbones, one of them cut by a scar.

Fuck Brody Jameson. She was one jaguar, alone. She turned away from the window.

“Rough night?” Sloan asked, glancing at her bruised and scabbed-over face. He began stirring the eggs with a fork, stabbing at the yolks in a way that made the chef in Jasmin wince.

She shrugged. “Better than some, worse than others.”

“Uh huh.” He gave her a level look, but didn’t ask any questions. Sloan was the quiet one, the only non-dominant in the crew, and he was not a fan of oversharing.

Jasmin liked that about him.

Sloan put a frying pan on the stove and melted butter in it. He had the heat on too high, and the butter immediately started to burn at the edges. He held the bowl of eggs above the pan, preparing to pour them into overheated burned-butter oblivion.

Jasmin caved.

“Stop!” she commanded, freezing him in his tracks. “Fine. You win. I can’t stand it.”

She came around the island and took the pan off the burner with one hand, while taking the egg bowl away from him with the other.

“Go over there and grate cheese,” she said, pointing to the other end of the island. “Cheddar or Jack, whatever we’ve got. And slice some mushrooms.”

“Aye aye, Captain,” Sloan said, smirking.

“And you’re an asshole, because you know I don’t cook breakfast.”

“Aye, aye.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Cooking soothed Jasmin’s temper, the way it always did. She sautéed the mushrooms and mixed a touch of cream into the eggs, and then made cheese and mushroom omelets. She didn’t even jag-slap the smug look off Sloan’s face. Pecker.

When she and Sloan had finished eating their omelets, she made him slice and grate some more, just to get him back for suckering her into morning cooking.

And because she couldn’t stop thinking about Brody Fucking Jameson. The way he’d looked at her. Touched her. Kissed her. The look on his face when he realized his money was gone.

Not my problem, she told herself for the tenth or eleventh time. But she couldn’t stop thinking about ways to get his money back. Get my money back, she amended. They stole my fucking money.

She went over in her mind everything she knew about the Nashville pack, bits and pieces she’d picked up at the fights. Things Noah Reilly had told her, when he stayed with the Bad Bloods. Where the Nashville wolves hung out. What they did there. What was the best way to get to a cowardly prick and his prick friends, who owed her seven hundred dollars and a few pints of blood.

When she looked up, she realized she’d made four more omelets. She put two in the oven to keep warm, because Tank and Lissa were busy fucking in the mansion-sized shower again.

Then she pulled her phone out of her hoodie pocket and texted Xander.

Cheese/mushroom omelet. Hot. Come get it before Sloan eats it.

A text alert immediately came in on Sloan’s phone. He looked at it and grinned.

“What did he threaten you with?” Jasmin asked. She put the fourth omelet on a plate and poured another mug of coffee, this one with cream.