Page 13 of Bad Moon Rising (Dark-Hunter 17)
Vane gave him a droll stare that said he shared the same opinion of Stefan that Fang had-that Stefan was a first-rank moron. "She must have followed our scent."
Fang didn't speak. He was still too stunned at her anger toward him when all he'd been trying to do was make her understand the danger. How could she not know better? Had Stefan not called in for reinforcements and Fang not realized who it was they were grouping to attack, Aimee would have been torn into pieces.
Another few minutes . . .
His stomach churned over the images in his mind.
Vane snapped his fingers in front of his face. "Dude? You okay?"
Fang shoved at him. "Of course I am."
Stefan came forward with a grimace on his face. "What did the bear want with you anyway?"
Vane caught Fang before he could approach the wolf to attack and forced him away from Stefan. "She-"
"We don't owe him an explanation," Fang snapped, interrupting Vane. "He can kiss my hairy ass."
Stefan rushed at him.
Vane growled at both of them. "I swear to the gods that I am sick to death of breaking you two up." He pushed Stefan back. "And you-one more time and I'm not stopping Fang. One more insult, one more cockeyed stare, and I'm standing back and turning him loose to break ass all over you."
Stefan's nostrils flared. Instead of pushing the issue, he snapped his fingers for the others to follow him. Turning into wolves, they bounded back toward the den.
Vane faced him with a penetrating stare. "What is going on between you and the bearswan?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing? She came out here into the middle of nowhere to hand you back a pair of sunglasses for what purpose?"
To keep anyone else from being able to use his scent to track him. Aimee's kindness wasn't lost on him.
But if Vane couldn't figure that out, he wasn't about to clue him in. "I don't know. Since when do women of any species make sense?"
Vane's features softened. "Good point. All right then, I'm heading back. You coming?"
Fang nodded.
Flashing into a wolf, Vane took off. Fang was just about to join him when he saw something on the ground a few feet away from him.
It was a camera.
What the hell?
He went over to pick it up. The moment he did, he smelled Aimee all over it. He started to chuck it toward the water, but curiosity got the better of him. Turning it on, he scrolled through the digital pictures of the Peltier bears, sometimes in human form, other times as bears. He paused on one of the busboys he'd seen in the bar who was feeding a pet monkey peanuts. She'd really captured the way the neon light highlighted him and the monkey in a most unusual way.
But it was the landscape shots she'd made all over New Orleans that were truly breathtaking. The bearswan had an amazing eye for light and shadow. Even a wolf like him could appreciate it.
Just toss the damn thing and let it go. . . .
He couldn't. It was as if he were looking at her private diary and he knew instinctively Aimee wouldn't want this to be lost. These were more than mere pictures. They were like a part of her soul.
Give it to Vane to return.
It was what he should do. Common sense told him to stay as far away from her as he could.
"Since when have I ever had an ounce of sense?"
It was true. Common sense had waved bye-bye to him a long time ago.
Tightening his grip on the camera, he flashed himself from the bayou back to the bar. He paused as he realized he'd managed to jump into the top floor . . . weird. It was hard to manifest into a place he hadn't been to before. The bears must have some kind of filter to direct them to a "landing pad" of sorts.
Which explained why the jackals had come from this direction earlier. Nice move on the bears' part.
Fang made his way down the stairs to the bar where Dev or one of Dev's identical brothers was tending it. "Where's Aimee?"
The bear tensed. "Who the hell are you?"
Definitely not Dev. "Fang Kattalakis. I'm returning her property, not that you have any reason for knowing that."
The bear raked him with a hostile glare.
Another bear with short black hair . . . one who was Arcadian if Fang didn't miss the tangy smell, nudged Aimee's brother gently. "Relax, Cherif, he's the one who saved her earlier from the jackals."
Cherif backed down, but not by much. "You want to run him back to her?"
"Sure." The Arcadian flashed a friendly grin at Fang. "I'm Colt," he said good-naturedly. "If you'll follow me . . ."
Fang did, but not before he gave Aimee's brother a go-to-hell glare.
Colt led him through the kitchen and past another Dev lookalike to a door that opened into a house that was decorated in a turn-of-the-century Victorian style. The walls were painted a soft yellow while the furniture was a mix of burgundy and black. The dark wood gave it a very regal appearance.
"Peltier House," Colt explained as he kept walking. "You weren't here earlier when Papa Bear toured your brother around. This is where the Were-Hunters who call Sanctuary home live when not working in the club. There are four floors of bedrooms total, but most of the Peltiers are on the second floor."
Colt headed upstairs. "Carson's the doc and vet and his office is here." He touched the first door they passed on the second floor and kept going to the end of the hall.
He stopped at the last door. Tapping lightly, he leaned close to it. "Aimee? You there?"
"Trying to nap, Colt."
"Sorry, but there's a visitor here who wants to see you."
The door opened so fast Colt almost fell in. Aimee looked surprised, then pissed to see Fang standing behind him. "What are you doing here?"
Fang shrugged. "Come to inadvertently insult you some more apparently. Who knew?"
Instead of being amused, which is what he'd been hoping for, she narrowed her gaze on him. "I really don't like you."
Fang leaned forward to smirk. "You're really not supposed to."
