Opening the box of cookies, he took out half a dozen, then pushed the container toward her.
Goody, a peace offering.
Jes was tempted to ignore the gesture, but the square cookies were too tempting to pass up. Taking one, she slowly nibbled on it. Buttery and delicious, the shortbread paired perfectly with the coffee left in her mug, so she helped herself to another.
“Sorry about earlier,” Jake said, his deep voice quiet in the small kitchen.
Jes looked up from her coffee to study him. She liked the dark scruff on his square jaw. It made him look dangerous.
Wait. What?
Why the heck was she even noticing things like that? Jake was her teammate—a fur-covered supernatural one to boot. She shouldn’t be thinking of him as a man, handsome or otherwise. He wasn’t a man at all, but a werewolf. She needed to remember that.
“Sorry about what?” she asked.
“That crap Caleb said.” Jake gave her a sidelong glance. “About the luggage in his room.”
Jes had to bite her tongue to keep from saying something nasty. Well, something else nasty. She’d seriously unloaded on Caleb earlier when the jackass had started bitching about some piece of crap leaving their stuff in his bedroom. She’d almost kicked him in the balls as she informed him that the piece of crap who’d left stuff in his room was a guy named Jaime Wilkerson.
“Yeah, the guy lying on a slab in the embassy morgue with his throat ripped out,” she’d snapped. “So you’re going to have to excuse him for not cleaning up for you.”
Caleb’s jaw tightened and his eyes flashed gold, but the werewolf hadn’t said a word. Instead, he’d simply walked from the room, down the steps, and out the front door. He hadn’t come back until well after dark.
“It’s not your place to apologize for him,” she said to Jake.
He shrugged. “I feel like someone should, since I doubt he ever will.”
Jake was probably right about that. Caleb struck her as the type who’d rather chew off his own tongue than apologize for being a jackass.
“I’ll help you pack up the stuff if you want,” Jake said. “If we get it to the embassy in time, they’ll be able to send it home with the bodies. There are probably some personal possessions their families will want.”
The offer was so thoughtful and unexpected that Jes couldn’t think of anything to say. So instead, she nodded and reached for another shortbread. Jake got there first. Taking out a cookie, he handed it to her, then grabbed one for himself. She laughed as he bit into it with his perfect white teeth.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“Nothing, really. It’s just that I didn’t take you for a cookie kind of guy.”
He took a swallow of coffee. “What kind of guy do you take me for then?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Raw meat, I guess. Since you’re a werewolf and all.”
Jes expected him to chuckle, but instead, Jake went visibly still. Setting his mug down, he turned his head to look at her, his dark eyes intense.
“So that’s how it is. I’m a werewolf, therefore, I eat raw meat? Are you down here drinking coffee in the middle of the night instead of upstairs in bed because you’re afraid one of us is going to slip into your room and attack you?”
While his voice was low and even, it was obvious Jake was pissed, and for a moment, Jes felt ashamed. She had no reason to think Jake or any of the other werewolves would actually attack her or the others. But then she remembered exactly how Jaime and Neal had died, and that it could have easily been a creature like Jake who’d murdered them, regardless of his assertions to the contrary.
“Isn’t that how it works with your kind?” she snapped. “You bite people and turn them into werewolves. Or worse.”
Jake’s jaw tightened and the carefully controlled mask he wore slipped, revealing anger, along with something she hadn’t expected—disappointment and disgust. Just as quickly, the facade was back in place and he was on his feet, heading for the door. But then he stopped.
“I doubt you care, but that’s not even close to how it works with our kind,” he said, not turning to look at her. “Werewolves are born, not made. A bite from a werewolf doesn’t do anything except hurt like a son of a bitch.”
Jes was already up and hurrying after him before Jake made it half a dozen steps. Catching up to him, she got in front of him and blocked his path. This close, she was reminded of exactly how tall he was.
“What the hell does that mean, werewolves are born, not made?” she demanded, tilting her head back to look at him.
“It means you can go to bed, Jes,” he said softly. “My pack and I aren’t going to attack you or anyone else.”
