Jasmine

I WAKE up to the sound of clanging metal outside the Airstream. The soreness between my legs and the wound on my shoulder brings it all back.

Tom.

My wolf.

I slip on a short, thin robe covered with roses and step outside. The air still has the bite of morning chill and the smell of pine and sage fills my nostrils.

Tom has my bus jacked up and the tires off.

“Good morning.” My voice is still rusty, which gives it a husky quality.

He looks over, his expression softer than I’ve ever seen it. “Morning to you, sunshine.” “What are you doing?”

“Rotating your tires. One of them needs a little air. I can fill it for you next time we’re in town.” “I know how to—” I start to say, but he silences me with a frown.

I smile. Okay, he wants to help. Let him help. It’s nice to have someone else to shoulder the burden for a change. I just don&rsquo