"He's coming down." Jagger set his mug on the table.
We listened, ears inclined toward the floor above where Jazz shuffled around the room.
Huntley frowned. "Did you make him mad?"
His footsteps were louder than his normal patter, and he hadn't slammed every door but had closed them with more force than usual.
"He spoke with his friends from that pack in Walker County yesterday." But he'd enjoyed the call. Or had made it look like he enjoyed the call. It wasn't until after the call that he'd seemed upset. When the fear likely set in. I didn't have any idea what the exact cause was, and Jazz hadn't wanted to tell me.
"He's not happy now." Huntley shook his head slowly. His worried frown clashed with the amusement in his gaze. "I'm going in for a second cup."
Jagger thrust his out for Huntley.
Jazz's footsteps didn't lighten as he took the hallway to the stairs. His scent charged ahead, bringing his distinct flavor of lemon, rosemary, and warm vanilla. When he walked through the doorway, Huntley and Jagger stared in rapt attention, their eyes gliding up and down his body to check for injuries.
The worry I'd noticed in Huntley faded, having seen Jazz well and whole. Now he was just amused.
I set a cup of coffee in front of an empty chair along with cream and sugar. "Did you sleep well?"
"You guys are back early," Jazz said, his voice brighter than I would have expected.
Of course, he ignored my question in the process. I bit my tongue as my alpha clamored for his submission. This wasn't anything like what I'd felt for the pack. I'd needed their obedience, but that was for their safety. I'd never wanted their submission. But everything was different with Jazz.
Huntley stretched, sliding away from the table as his legs lengthened. "Didn't take us very long, and we got an answer right away. No reason to stay overnight."
"You found out?" Jazz's eyes widened, and he reached for his coffee, finally noticing I'd set it in front of him.
"It's insulation, but a different kind then what we used," Jagger said.
"But…is it a clue?" His leg tapped nervously under the table while his brow wrinkled.
Likely noting his distress, Jagger stretched over and ruffled Jazz's red curls. "It's a clue, Jazz Hands."
One corner of Jazz's mouth lifted. "Jazz Hands?"
"You know, because of your name and what you can do," Huntley supplied.
Jazz just shrugged and turned back to his coffee. He'd been nearly smiling, glad that he'd assisted us in finding a clue. When he turned his face to me, his smile dropped, and that same pinched irritation returned.
What the fuck did I do to him?
I had no idea, but clearly, I'd done something.
Faust came into the kitchen with Dog. Faust's hair stuck up. He hadn't even run his hands through it yet, but I assumed he'd heard Huntley and Jagger and had wanted to find out what they'd discovered.
One minute later, Diesel stalked through the same doorway. He kept to the walls, preferring the corners of the kitchen, but he got a cup of coffee and lingered as Huntley and Jagger told them about their journey.
During this, Jazz took the pepper shaker off the table and pressed it between his hand. He made a stack of bills, a pile of diamonds, idly pushing his hands together and letting his creations spring forth before closing his hands again.
"Not at the table," I snarled, and Jazz stiffened. Fuck.
Every face swung my way, none of them friendly. At least Diesel only looked confused.
I'd been on edge already. Jazz had been scared or mad at me since yesterday and refused to tell me what it was.
He was mine, but not so much that he'd tell me what was wrong. Maybe I didn't deserve to claim him, but my alpha wouldn't allow me to let him just walk out of my life. And watching him use his abilities was too much like watching the skills he'd used to leave.
While I may have had reasons to explain why I'd snarled, none of those reasons were an excuse.
Jazz met my gaze dead-on. Unblinking, he kept his eyes on me as he pressed his hands together, letting the shaker roll out of his hands. Now it looked like a huge spider, as large as a shoebox, skittering over the table toward me.
His anger I could take. But when he looked at me again, pain was all I saw. Had Hollister told him something? Said something I hadn't heard? I'd remained near him during the call, both out of preference and preservation. I needed to know what Hollister had to say if it was going to affect Jazz's health. "Want to let me know what that was about?" I asked evenly, gesturing with my forehead to the shaker laying on its side in its original form on the floor.
"You said you would teach me to fight and not freeze. You promised. I'm beginning to think you don't know what that word means either." His eyes narrowed, and his lips clenched, flinging each word out into the world.
I crossed my arms, needing to do something with my body that wasn't yank Jazz flush against me and kiss him senseless. His defiance and anger were an affront to my alpha nature. "Is that what's been bothering you? Training?"
All at once, every muscle in Jazz's face worked in harmony to give me the most withering stare. A lesser man would've shied from it.
My chest swelled, my biceps tingling. This was a challenge, one I wanted to meet. Jazz's anger didn't burn brighter than my concern, and if we had to go head to head to figure out what was wrong with my boy, then we would.
"I'm. Fine." Jazz downed the coffee in front of him, and I winced. He hadn't eaten a lot last night, and he hadn't eaten anything this morning. Like before, the second he looked away from me and to one of the others, his expression softened. "One of you needs to eat the last of that lasagna before it goes bad. Hallie's going to teach me stir fry next."
I let out a silent exhale of relief. I remembered he'd made plans with Hallie. That meant he wasn't planning on running the moment I took my eyes off him. I still wouldn't be able to relax until I knew what had him all wound up.
I picked up the shaker, placing it in its original spot in front of Jazz. "Meet me in the gym after breakfast."
Jazz nodded and pushed back from the table. "I'll be there." He swept from the room, leaving a huge question mark in his chair.
"What did you do to him?" Faust asked, his voice full of awe.
I looked to Diesel standing in the corner. His clumpy hair hung in front of his face. These days the only time he wasn't scowling was when he got to blow something up. But right then, he was attempting to hide his smirk. Bastard.
My head swiveled back to the doorway. "I didn't do anything. Not on purpose."
"Purposeful or not…" Huntley said.
"…Jazz is pissed," Jagger finished. "But just at you, so—" He lifted his left shoulder sharply, letting it fall.
"Ready for that run?" Huntley asked him.
The two left together, and Faust moved around the kitchen, gathering breakfast for him and Dog. "I'll start researching that mineral wool. See if I can't narrow down a supplier."
Diesel plopped down at the now-empty table. "I'll help." His scowl turned my way. "Remember basic needs," he grunted.
Caring for a pack as large as ours hadn't been a seamless process. Especially toward the beginning when they were led by six—technically, five as Pierce had been a few years older—new adults. The twins were the youngest among us but we all had more muscle than brains. Basic needs was the phrase we used when attempting to determine why a person was acting the way they were and what we needed to do to fix that. Were they fed, had they hydrated recently, were they rested, and when had they last showered? Answering those questions normally led to a cause for the behavior and a solution.