13. Jasmine

"Violet?"

It's the first word out of my mouth as Erik hustles me out of the Rose Tower parking garage and over towards an idling SUV. His arm is around my waist, and since my head is still spinning, I'm grateful for the support. Plus, there's the bonus that he smells like Casper and safety, both of which I really need right now.

"She's fine." He gives me a slight squeeze and pulls his cell from his pocket. Xavier's name is already cued up on the screen as he presses it into my hand. "She's with the guys at the club, and they're waiting to hear from you."

Tears of gratitude prick my eyes as we climb into the backseat, and I make the call. As Erik snaps the seatbelt around me, Xavier's voice greets my ear, deep, strong, and steady. "Everyone's safe, Jasmine. Are you alright, sweetheart?"

I swallow down the raw lump in my throat, pressing my fingers to the edge of my bruised temple. "Yes. I'm okay. But I left V-Violet." I can barely stammer out her name, the memory of her curled in the kitchen cabinet, pale-faced and terrified, floating in front of my welling eyes.

"You did the right thing," he says soothingly, his voice almost a purr. "Erik found her in minutes, and she was fine. In fact, she's sitting right beside me now, drinking hot chocolate and playing with Chewie. Do you want to talk to her?"

"Yes! Please put her on."

There's a moment where it feels like my heart is being squeezed through a sieve and then my sister's voice comes over the phone. "Jas? Are you coming for me?"

"Yes, sweetie. I'm in the car and on my way right now." I look at Erik who's a big blur at my side, but I can see him flashing a hand signal at me. "Ten minutes, okay? Are you alright? Xavier said you met Chewie. Has he tried to steal your shoelaces yet?"

My sister laughs and there's a yip from the puppy, who is no doubt already perched on her lap. Violet is crazy about dogs and has been playing vet with her stuffed animals for as long as I can remember. Thank God she's got the puppy to distract her. She might be the most mature twelve-year-old I've ever met, but that doesn't mean she's not traumatized by being snatched off the street and delivered to an alpha club.

We talk for another couple of minutes, Violet telling me every tiny detail she's learned about Chewie in their short acquaintance. Her excited chatter is punctuated by hearty slurps of hot chocolate, and I feel the ice in my blood slowly starting to thaw. When I finally end the call, my head is still spinning, but it's the pressure behind my eyes that is killing me. I rarely cry – it's not just pointless, my father bred the urge out of me years ago – but I can feel a torrent of tears just waiting to fall. They burn up my throat and I bite my lip hard as I hand the phone back. Erik makes a growling sound that's more pain than anger and then my seatbelt snaps off, and I'm lifted into his lap.

My face finds the crook of his neck like a puzzle piece snapping into place.

"F-fuck!" I gasp, the floodgates crumbling like wet paper. "I d-didn't know what to do, Erik. I should have stayed with her instead of… shoving her under the goddamn sink! But J-Jackson was right outside the door… There was a wall and nowhere to go." I burrow deeper into the warm dip of his neck, squeezing my eyes tight. "I didn't know what else to do. We couldn't both get out in time, but I shouldn't have left her alone like that."

"Cry, Jasmine," he says in a low rumble I can feel vibrating through my bones, "but don't blame yourself for a second. You did the right thing. The only thing. And I know exactly how much it cost you to leave her. But you put her safety first because she was the vulnerable one, and that's what we do in a pack. The strong look out for the weak."

I'm surprised he put me in the first category, given the way I'm blubbering all over him. I should feel embarrassed that my tears are dripping down his neck and I'm getting snot on his shirt, but I don't care. I need this. The hard thump of his pulse and his scent in my nose. Even the scratch of his stubble which is just painful enough to keep me from falling all the way over the ledge. And even though I'm safer than I've been in a long time, I can't help but cling to him.

Because he came for me.

Even though I wasn't in any real danger with the Roses, he didn't know that. And he still walked into another pack's territory to rescue me.

When was the last time anyone spoke up on my behalf, let alone put their body on the line for me?

"If anyone's to blame it's me, as mission leader," he says quietly, his hand covering half my back as he rubs it in slow, soothing circles. "I missed the decoy. I spent too long dealing with the situation at the gate. You had no choice but to go after your sister when you saw she was in trouble. And in the end, you achieved our objective and got her to safety."

I take a steadying breath as I peel myself off his neck, and Erik produces a bottle of water from somewhere. I gulp down a few mouthfuls, the pounding in my head easing a little. "I thought you'd be mad. About me leaving the car."

His rumble this time is more of a grunt, his hand pressing on my lower back. It pushes us together, and for the first time I feel something other than the cracking ache in my chest. I'm straddling his thighs, and while he's not hard, he's still a lot to take in. "Oh, I was pissed," he murmurs, dragging my thoughts away from his lap. "But when I found Violet clutching your panic button, I was also impressed. That was quick thinking."

Just remembering that moment makes me shudder. "I had the mace, and I thought I still had my cell. Plus, I knew Jackson's weak knee would buckle when he came over the wall. I had the dumpster for cover and the element of surprise." I shrug as his dark eyes burn into mine. Shit, he must have been a terrifying commanding officer, and I can't keep the slight whine from my voice. "It wasn't much of a plan, but it was all I had."

I don't add that it would have amounted to jack shit if Patrick hadn't been there. The mace had slowed Jackson down, but one command and I would have been on my face, completely at his mercy.

"And then the Rose Pack's head of security appeared," he muses. "The same guy who all but tucked you in his pocket when I turned up."

I look at him in surprise. "Patrick? What about him?"

"What was he doing there? Why that alley, and why did he turn up right when you needed him?"

I shrug again, feeling uncomfortable. Patrick was intense. Maybe it was an Irish thing, but I'm pretty sure it was something else. His scent was strange, for one. I've got a pretty good nose for fragrances, given I work around herbs and spices all the time. I can usually catalog someone in line with the five flavor categories – sweet, sour, salty, bitter and savory. But the Rose Pack head of security smelled like something unique. Less like a scent and more like a memory… Except I've never taken a walk on a beach in winter with the perfect hot chocolate still clinging to my tongue.

"Maybe it was just a coincidence," I hedge, pushing the strange thought aside. Erik makes another rumbling sound – this one closer to a snort than anything – and I sit back to study his face. I don't understand why he's concerned about this, unless he thinks my friendship with Grace is a liability. "Do you think the Roses are going to cause problems for you?"

A slight smirk touches his hard lips. "The Roses aren't an issue. And if there's any lingering bad feelings, we'll smooth them over when they come to the club."

I doubt that's ever going to happen. Grace has pretty strong feelings about Ferro, and the Sawyers are still technically members. There's no way her mates are going to let Kayden within a mile of her.

But now I'm even more confused. "If you didn't think the Roses were a threat, why did you pull a gun on them?"

"I'm not saying they're not dangerous. The pack alpha, Garth, is pretty dominant, even for an uber. And the other two used to run with the Quinn gang."

I can't suppress a slight shiver. "You mean the people who had Casper."

"Mm-hmm. Eamonn Quinn ran one of the worst clubs we've come across so far. But the Rose guys got out, and from my intel, they've kept their distance from that scene ever since." Something sharpens in his gaze, and he asks, "You didn't come across Patrick Keene before? Maybe when you were hanging out with Grace?"

The question makes me want to squirm, but not while I'm straddling his thighs. "I don't remember him, but Grace and I didn't spend all that much time together. It was always a juggling act with Kayden. He's insanely possessive of her. She's my best friend in one way, but I barely know her in another." I pull a face, my thoughts now focused on Grace and the hurt in her eyes as I tried to brush off my disappearance. "I'm going to have to call her and apologize. I don't want her thinking I didn't trust her enough to help me."

He studies me for a moment, then brushes my hair back from my face. Even sweaty and tear-soaked, it feels amazing. Purring is even more alien to me than crying, but I'm really tempted right now, especially when he cups my cheek with one of his big hands, his finger brushing my scent gland. I lean into his touch, sparks of pleasure fizzing under my skin, but freeze when he says, "I want to check this bump. It looks pretty sore."

I wince, and not at the gentle way he's touching my temple. "I'll just put some ice on it."

His brows shoot up. "Our doctor will check you over as soon as we reach the club. You don't screw around with a head injury, Jasmine."

I bat his hand away. "I'm not screwing around, Erik."

"Then don't be a baby about seeing the doctor."

I try to slide off his lap, but his fingers dig into my thighs, holding me in place. "No."

I gape at him. It wasn't a command, but it almost feels like it. Especially with my cheeks burning with embarrassment. "No?"

His gaze softens a fraction. "Having you close is necessary right now." When I just stare at him, he huffs out a breath. "You shaved a decade off my life, Jasmine. The dead body in the alley, no sign of you anywhere, and then finding you at another pack's house. None of that was good for my blood pressure."

I want to smirk at that. I'm guessing that rattling Erik isn't easy, but I seem to have wormed my way under his stoic shell. Not that I wanted to stress him out, but it's nice to know he cares enough to suffer a little hypertension over me.

"Hey, how did you find me? I didn't have my phone or panic button."

Erik narrows his eyes at me. "You think they're the only trackers I gave you?" I frown and he brushes a hand over the collar of my jacket, his lips tilting up. "There's one stitched in here." His hand travels down my spine to my hip, his fingers splaying wide. "And another in the waistband of your jeans." His hand moves again, this time to slide over my thigh and past my knee, until it comes to rest on my calf. "And one in your boot. Well, two actually; both fitted into the heels."

I guess that explains why Erik was the one to pick out my clothes, but it makes me wonder what Grace would say about the modifications to the H.O.M.E. wardrobe.

Not that I should be smirking right now. Just like I shouldn't be tingling all over from the slow brush of his hands over my body. "You seriously chipped my clothes?"

He grunts, way too low and sexy for my spinning thoughts. "I'd make you swallow a tracker if I thought you'd let me."

Well, crap. Is that hot, or is it just the blow to my head talking? "How romantic."

"Don't be fooled by the combat gear, Jasmine." His hands find their way back to my hips, gripping down just enough to make me squirm. "I'm not always in mission mode."

My lungs suddenly feel empty, and it takes a lot of effort to look nonchalant. "No? So what exciting things do you get up to during your leisure time?"

"I work out. Weights, running, swimming." He smirks at my roll of the eyes. "I also like board games and playing a little guitar."

"Really?" I try to picture him strumming away at a guitar and it's surprisingly easy. Especially with his fingers caressing the skin between my jeans and tee. "And have you jammed with Casper?"

He shrugs, his eyes a little sad. "He wasn't really talking much until you came along. And whenever we mentioned music, he'd close up even more, and I didn't want to trigger him."

It's the perfect opportunity to ask him about the alpha club in Boston, but I don't have the stomach for it. If Casper wants to tell me about his time there, I'd be honored to listen. But I've cried enough for one day. And maybe Erik is just in protector mode, but it feels like something fragile is building between us. The last thing I want to do is send him back into combat mode.

"Well, I'd like to hear you play some time," I tell him, keeping my voice light. "And maybe I could cook for you in return. Not just dessert, but a proper meal."

He narrows his eyes at me. "Like a date?"

I study the heavy line of his jaw and cheekbones. Those long dark lashes are ridiculously thick for a guy built out of pure muscle. But damn if they aren't pretty. "If you want. Or just to say thank you for helping me with Violet."

He hums, his chest moving against my palms in a completely distracting way. "You don't need to thank me for that, but I'll definitely take you up on dinner." He thinks for a moment and then a wicked grin suddenly transforms his face. "Just warning you, though. I have a really big appetite, so you might need to think about making extra dessert."

I mull over that comment for the rest of the ride to the club. In fact, I'm so obsessed by it, I might have done something drastic if I didn't have a head injury. Like trying to kiss the lingering smirk off his face or using my proximity to his lap to measure the full extent of his appetite.

But when I slide off him, he doesn't try to stop me, and once we aren't mashed together, I'm able to cool down a little and think more clearly. All this male attention is pretty damn fantastic, but it's not what I should be focusing on. Taking care of Violet will always come first, and that means forming a new plan where she's never under my father's thumb again.

But I don't object to the way Erik guides me into the private elevator, his hand resting against the small of my back. And he doesn't stop touching me until we make it to the kitchen and Violet leaps off the stool at the dining bar. The cup of hot chocolate has been joined by a plate of peanut butter cookies, and the aroma of a roast chicken wafts tantalizingly from the oven. I clearly need to thank Kelly for making her feel at home, but all I can see is my sister's face as she flings herself into my arms.

"Oh my God, Jas! That was completely insane! I can't believe we really did that." But as she pulls back, she looks at me properly and the excitement fizzles from her face. "Oh, no! What happened?" She reaches up to touch my bruise, but snatches her hand back at the last moment, her eyes lighting up with a different kind of fire. "Was it Jackson? Did that asshole hurt you?"

I glance helplessly at Erik. I hate lying to Violet, but the last thing I want is to expose her to more ugly reality. So, I fall back on the only thing I can think of. "Don't curse, Vi."

"Screw that!" she snaps, her hands gripping her hips as her small frame shakes with anger. "Someone needs to go after him and make him pay!"

To my surprise, Erik drops to a knee and grabs her hand, tugging her gently until she turns to face him. "Hey. What did I tell you when I found you hiding in that cabinet?"

Violet swipes a hand over her eyes, her chin quivering. She's clearly overwhelmed, but she still stares at him mulishly. "That I was a hero for listening to Jas and keeping my shit tight."

Erik winces slightly, avoiding my gaze. "Not my exact words, but you're right, I was really impressed. But I also promised to bring her back to you in one piece." He gives her a solemn look. "I failed. She got hurt before I found her, and I'm kicking myself for that."

Violet takes a deep breath, her small shoulders rising and falling. I can almost see the anger draining out of her as she stares down at Erik. "That's not your fault. You did your best."

"Maybe. But it's definitely not your fault. Stuff like that happens on a mission, and your sister is made of tough stuff. She took a knock, but she's still standing. Just like you, she handled herself in exactly the right way."

The admiring glance he shoots my way makes me warm all over, and my sister's eagle eyes narrow in delight. "She's pretty amazing, right? There's no girl out there as pretty or as smart as my sister."

Erik grins at her enthusiastic and completely unsubtle shipping, but I roll my eyes. "Okay, Vi, you can tone it down." I give her a poke in the ribs. "But the skywriter is still booked for Friday, right?"

My sister giggles, but I can see the mischief still lurking in her eyes. Next to being the hero vet to every injured and mistreated dog in the city, Violet's life goal is to match me to a pack with a guaranteed happily ever after.

I'm not sure if Erik's already worked that out, but he's the perfect gentleman as he rises and offers Violet his arm. "How about we let your sister get cleaned up before dinner? We could take Chewie to do his business on the terrace, if you're up for it."

"I am." My head injury and the plate of cookies both seem to vanish as Violet scoops up the puppy and takes Erik's arm. She coos and chatters all the way across the kitchen, and I shoot him a grateful look. But he just winks and mouths something that looks a lot like Casper to me.

Oh, crap.