Page 5 of Bad Moon Rising (Dark-Hunter 17)
Aimee hefted the tray up and cursed at how heavy eight beers with iced mugs and two Cokes could be. It was a good thing she'd taken it from the human. As tiny and frail as Cherise was, she'd have had a hard time carrying it. But true to form, the human would never utter a single word of complaint. Cherise had never once bitched about anything or anyone.
Aimee carefully made her way from the bar area to the tables in front where the dogs had taken refuge. As she came around the corner, she let out an aggravated breath.
Sure enough, they looked like the dregs of the animal kingdom. Scruffy, leather-wearing brutes. She just hoped the younger two didn't try to hump the furniture or some human's leg.
Though as she drew closer, she couldn't help noticing that the one with the longer hair was extremely good-looking. His dark hair was made up of a myriad of colors. Red, mahogany, brown, black, even some blond. It was as striking as his dark eyes.
The only other one of them really noteworthy was the one wearing a black biker jacket, who leaned back in his chair with his incredibly long legs stretched out in front of him. His black T-shirt was pulled tight over a stomach that was rock-hard and flat. With short dark hair and an evident nasty attitude, he was hard to miss. His rugged features were covered with several days' growth of beard and his eyes were completely concealed behind a pair of opaque sunglasses.
There was something about him that screamed power. Something lethal. Deadly. Raw. The animal in her could appreciate how impressive it was to give off that vibe while completely at ease. It also set off her instincts and made her extremely wary of the whole group.
Yeah, that one wolf gave the word Slayer a whole new meaning. She glanced around the room to locate her allies. Her brothers Zar and Quinn were at the bar. Colt, another bear who lived with them, was having a drink in front of them. Their busboy, Wren, who was a tigard, stood in the far corner cleaning tables while his pet monkey, Marvin, was poking his head out of Wren's apron pocket.
She was adequately covered if she needed it.
Putting off her own "screw you" aura, she closed the distance between them.
As soon as they saw her approaching, the wolves stood up . . . except for the one who looked the baddest of all. He continued to lean back with his arms folded over his chest.
"Fang!" the one with long dark hair snapped, kicking at his legs.
Fang came to his feet with a curse so foul, it actually made her blush. He had the one who'd barked his name in his hands before he seemed to realize what he'd done. "Vane?"
"Yeah, dick, let me go."
The long-haired white-blond wolf closest to Fang lowered his head threateningly. "Were you sleeping?"
Fang released Vane and passed the one who'd spoken a sneer that said he not only hated the other wolf, but that he thought he was an idiot. "Was I wolf or human?"
"Human."
"Then I wasn't asleep, was I, Scooby?"
She arched her brow at the insult. Wolves didn't like to be compared to dogs and to refer to them as a cartoon dog known for his lack-witted antics usually resulted in a fight.
The fact the blond wolf didn't attack over it corroborated Fang's ferocity in a way nothing else did.
Fang shifted his weight and pulled his sunglasses off as if trying to be respectful of Aimee's presence-something that seemed incongruous to her and yet . . . these wolves were nothing like what she expected.
And his eyes . . .
They were a gorgeous brown with a hint of rust in them. Yet it was the pain and intelligence inside them that reached out to her. A pain that seemed boundless.
Yawning, Fang scratched at the thick whiskers on his face. "Though it wasn't for lack of trying."
The youngest wolf-pup came up to her. "Let me help you with that."
"I've got it," she said gently, surprised by how well mannered these wolves were. The ones she'd run into in the past had been from the lowest rung of the evolutionary scale.
As soon as the tray was down, they all took their drinks without waiting for her to hand them out.
Vane took her towel and wiped the tray dry before he held it out to her.
Aimee smiled at him. "Thank you." It was actually disconcerting to see wolves who appeared this rough having manners. She wasn't sure how to deal with them.
As she started away, the one named Fang stopped her with a gentle touch. "You dropped this." He bent down to pick up her pad that must have fallen out of her apron pocket.
As he stood up, she became aware of exactly how large a man he was. Not beefy like the bears she was used to, he was lean.
And he was ripped. Solid like taut steel.
"Thanks."
Fang couldn't speak as he looked into the clearest pale blue eyes he'd ever seen. They were set into the face of a blond angel. One who had just the smallest hint of a dimple in her right cheek when she spoke.
Her skin looked softer than velvet, and for some reason he couldn't name, he wanted to lay the backs of his fingers against her cheek to see if it was as soft as it appeared.
And her smell . . . it was lavender and lilac. Normally the scent of another species was repugnant to his wolf's heightened senses. But not hers. She smelled warm and sweet. So sweet that it was all he could do not to rub his face in the crook of her neck to experience more of it.
When her hand brushed his, his body erupted with heat.
