Page 10 of Bad Moon Rising (Dark-Hunter 17)
He tightened his arms around her and held her close. "You know I love you, sis."
"I love you too." And she did. In spite of their disagreements and quarrels, her family meant everything to her. Stepping away, she turned to glance one last time at Fang. Most likely she'd never see him again. A common occurrence really for their clientele and yet for some reason this time that thought hurt deep inside her.
I have lost what three brain cells I have. . . . Bear, get your butt back to work and forget about him.
Fang stood up as he saw the pack leaving the bar. Vane was the first to reach him.
"Here." Vane tossed him his backpack, then handed him a bag of something sweet and rich. "The bearswan wanted to make sure you got that for Anya. She said there was something in there for you too."
That shocked him completely. No one ever gave him gifts. "For me?"
Vane shrugged. "I don't understand bear thought processes. Most days I barely understand ours."
Fang had to give him that-he didn't understand it either. He tucked the sack into his backpack as the rest of the wolves took up their bikes and headed out. They were silent the entire way back to the bayou where they'd made camp for their females to deliver their pups in peace and protection.
As soon as they'd returned, their father met them in his wolf form. Markus shifted into a human just to sneer at them.
"What took you women so long to return?"
As Fang opened his mouth to smart off, Vane shot him a warning glare. "I toured the clinic and have the contact information should any of our females require help."
Markus curled his lip. Even though he'd sent them there, he had to be an asshole. "In my day we let the wolfswans incapable of birthing our young die."
Fang snorted. "Then it's a good thing we're in the twenty-first century and not the Dark Ages, isn't it?"
Vane shook his head while their father growled at him as if about to attack.
This time Fang refused to back down. "Try it, old man," he said, using a term he knew infuriated his father since Katagaria despised their human natures. "And I'll rip out your throat and usher in a new age of leadership to this pack."
He could see the desire in Markus's eyes to press the issue, but his sire wolf knew what he did. In a fight, Fang would win.
His father wasn't the same wolf who'd killed his own brother to be Regis of their pack. He was weak with age and knew that he didn't have many more years left before either Fang or Vane took over.
One way or another.
Fang preferred it to be over the old man's dead body. But other arrangements would work for him too.
It was another reason their sire hated them. He knew his prime was past and they were only coming into their own.
Markus narrowed his gaze threateningly. "One day, whelp, you're going to cross me and your brother won't be here to stop me from killing you. When that day comes, you better pray for salvation."
Fang's look turned evil. "I don't need salvation. There's not a wolf here I couldn't wipe my ass on. You know it. I know it and most important, they all know it."
Vane arched a brow at his comment as if taunting him to prove those words.
Fang gave him a lopsided grin. "You don't count, brother. I think more of you than to even try."
Markus raked them with a repugnant twist to his lips. "You both sicken me."
Fang snorted. "It's what I live for . . . Father." He couldn't resist using the title he knew made the old fart seethe. "Your eternal disgust succors me like mother's milk."
Markus turned back into a wolf and bounded off.
Vane turned on him. "Why do you do that?"
"Do what?"
"Piss off everyone you come into contact with? Just once, couldn't you keep your mouth shut?"
Fang shrugged. "It's a skill."
"Well, it's one I wish you'd unlearn."
Fang let out an irritated breath at the constant bitch-topic that had grown old three hundred years ago. He wasn't the kind of wolf to suck it up. Rather he gave as good as he got, and most times he gave better. "Against the grain is the only way. Stop being such an old woman." He turned and headed for the edge of camp where Anya had chosen to den with her mate Orian.
Fang always had to bite his tongue around them. He hated the wolfswain the Fates had picked for his sister. She deserved so much better than that half-wit, but unfortunately, that wasn't in their hands. The Fates chose their partners and they could either submit or the male would live out his life completely impotent, the woman infertile.
To save their species, most accepted whatever abysmal mate the Fates assigned them. In the case of his parents, his mother had refused and now his father was left impotent and perpetually pissed off.
Not that Fang blamed the old man for that. He'd probably be insufferable too if he had to go centuries without sex. But that was the only part of his father he understood. The rest of the wolf was a complete mystery to him.
Luckily Anya's mate wasn't with his sister. Anya was lying down on the grass in the fading sunlight, her eyes barely open as a light breeze stirred her soft white fur. Her belly was swollen and he could see her pups moving inside her.
It was pretty much gross, but he wouldn't insult her by telling her that.
"You're back."
He smiled at her soft voice in his head. "We are and . . ." He held the bag out toward her.
She sat up immediately and trotted over to him. "What did you bring?" She nosed at the sack as if trying to see through it with her snout.
Fang sat down and opened the sack to see what Aimee had given them. The moment he did, his heart quickened. She'd thrown in two steaks, baklava, beignets, and cookies. There was also a small note in the bottom.
He dug out the cookies and held them for Anya while he read Aimee's flowing cursive.
