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But when the knocking continued, Jasper realized he couldn’t ignore it forever.
With an irritated grunt, he rolled out of bed, pulling on whatever clothes he’d thrown on his floor the night before.
“I swear to the Goddess, Viv, if you lost your key again, I am going to murder?—”
He wrenched the door open and stopped, frozen.
Fey leaned against his doorway.
Mine.
“Hey,” she said, smirking.
“Hey, gorgeous,” he murmured, too stunned to even smile. He stepped back, welcoming her inside, and?—
Wait. This was a terrible idea. His place was a mess. Wincing, he shut the door behind her and started grabbing empty beer bottles from the kitchen table. What was he thinking, letting her come in here? He only had two chairs, and one was covered in a pile of Vivian’s dirty clothes.
Fey just smiled, watching him carry an armful of rubbish to the kitchen.
“Sorry, it’s a mess,” he told her. “I’d give you an excuse, but… this is pretty much what it’s always like.”
“It’s fine,” Fey said with a laugh. She looked around. “I like your place… it’s cozy.”
Jasper snorted.Cozy, right.It was a dump. But it was close to his mom’s place, and an easy walking distance from The Last Drop, so he didn’t mind it too much.
Usually.
“Can I get you a drink?” he asked, opening the icebox to check what he had to offer her. “I have… beer.”
“It’s ten in the morning, Jasper.”
He grabbed two beers, anyway, tossing her one and grinning.
“So? You have to start drinking at some point, right? Why not start now?”
“Hard to argue with that logic,” Fey said, lifting the bottle to her lips to take a drink. As she did, the light caught her wrist, and Jasper’s eyes leapt to the bruises there. A growl rose in his chest.
“Who did that?” he asked, stepping toward her. He reached out, touching the purple skin gently, a feral anger rising inside him. “Who hurt you?”
“It’s nothing,” Fey said, dismissively and trying to tug her hand away. Jasper held firm.
“It’s not nothing,” he snapped. His Wolf pressed against the skin, wanting out. Wanting blood. Someone touched his mate. Someone had hurt his mate.
Someone needed to pay.
Fey gave him a strange look.
“It was a man,” she told him. “When I was walking home. He called me queen and… grabbed me.” Fey held his stare. “I broke his wrist for it. And I would have done worse if he hadn’t run.”
The Wolf inside him huffed in satisfaction, retreating. Jasper dropped her wrist.
“Good,” he said. “I’m glad you hurt him.”
Fey’s lips curved up in a small grin.
Feeling suddenly awkward, he moved back, giving her space. “So… what brings you here, gorgeous?”
“Alastair told me to come,” she said with a shrug. “He said you helped him with something. And that we needed to talk.”
