Page 16 of Chasing Secrets
“So what now?” Wade asked.
“We wait,” Zeppelin replied. “We don’t have much choice. But I want everyone to reach out to their contacts, see if they’ve heard anything or seen Vaughn. We’re not going to just throw up a prayer and kick back. We work this the best we can with no lead, no clues, and two boxes of coffee to keep us wired up enough to chase smoke in the wind.”
Chase nodded, though waiting had never been his strong suit. He thought of Jalen back at the pack house, blissfully unaware that the supernatural threats in his new reality extended beyond vampires.
“I’ll drive Vaughn’s truck back,” Wade offered, taking the keys from Zeppelin.
* * * *
After briefing the pack and setting up patrols, Chase finally made his way to the kitchen for a much-needed break. Everyone wanted to go to war, to rip apart whoever had taken Vaughn, but first they had to figure out who’d taken him.
The sight that greeted him stopped him in his tracks.
Jalen stood at the counter, swaying slightly as he constructed what appeared to be the strangest sandwich Chase had ever seen—peanut butter smeared thickly on graham crackers with marshmallows squished in the middle.
His mate swayed again, catching himself against the counter. The knife in his hand wobbled as he attempted to spread more peanut butter.
“Then I told him,” Jalen said, “I told him that his aura was purple. Like really purple. And he got sooo mad!” He giggled like what he’d said was the funniest thing ever.
Chase blinked, wondering if he’d missed the first part of the conversation or if Jalen had been holding an entire conversation in his head before vocalizing the peculiar conclusion. Quinn and Preston were in the kitchen as well, both sitting the table, looking just as confused as Chase felt.
“That sandwich looks... interesting,” Chase commented, gently taking the knife from Jalen’s unresisting fingers before he could add more peanut butter to the already overflowing concoction.
Jalen turned, his movements oddly fluid and delayed, like he was moving through water. “Heyyy, Chase.” He’d said the name like it mattered, and something unraveled beneath Chase’s ribs.
“Hey,” Chase said, trying to sound casual while he tried to figure out what was going on with his mate.
Jalen’s smile hit Chase like sunlight, and suddenly he couldn’t stop blinking.
“I made a sandwich. Want one? ‘S amazing.” Without waiting for an answer, Jalen lifted his creation to his mouth, taking an enormous bite that left peanut butter smeared across his upper lip and cheek. His eyes closed in apparent bliss as he chewed.
“Oh my god,” he mumbled around his mouthful. “This is amazing. You guys have to try this. It’s like... it’s like childhood and adulthood had a baby in my mouf.”
Quinn snorted into his coffee, while Preston was watching with a mixture of amusement and concern.
Jalen nodded enthusiastically to... someone. “It’s the perfect balance of sweet and salty and crunchy and soft.”
“How’s your morning been?” Chase asked, realizing just now his mate was stoned out of his mind. His pupils were dilated, and Jalen had a slight delay in his reactions. The signs were unmistakable.
“Gooood,” Jalen drawled, dragging out the word. “Really, really good. Preston showed me the garden. Did you know you guys have a garden? With plants and stuff?”
“The garden, huh?” What was his mate talking about? Chase had been on patrol early this morning. He would’ve seen a sudden pop-up garden.
He glanced at Preston.
Zeppelin’s mate took a sip of his juice then slowly twisted his hand until his thumb was pointed toward the back door. “The weeds bordering the woods.”
“Yep!” Jalen took a massive bite of his glop, getting marshmallow on his nose in the process. “S’beautiful. All these... colors. And smells. So many smells.”
Preston mouthed, “Edibles?” with raised eyebrows.
Chase shrugged slightly. He’d just met Jalen last night and knew practically nothing about him. Still, Chase couldn’t bring himself to be upset. This was Jalen’s way of coping with the insanity that had been thrust upon him. Finding out about vampires, shifters, and now potentially demons, all while being told he was cosmically bound to a man he barely knew? If some edibles helped him process, who was Chase to judge?
“How’s the sandwich?” he asked instead of confronting the obvious.
“Comfort food,” Jalen explained seriously, as if imparting great wisdom. “My mom used to make these when I was sad. But I’m not sad now. I feel”—he waved his hands vaguely—“floaty.”
Chase bit back a smile despite his concern. Floaty indeed. His mate’s eyes were glassy, his coordination shot, and he was making childhood comfort food with the focus of a brain surgeon. Classic signs of being absolutely baked.
