And that snarky, long-legged blonde had been one of Max’s favorite members of the Peltier bear clan since the day he’d sought refuge in the famed Sanctuary bar and grill her family had founded in the heart of New Orleans.
Wounded and barely alive after a nasty encounter with an ancient enemy, Max had collapsed on the third floor of this very building, at Aimee’s feet. When he’d awakened a week later, she’d been sitting on the floor of their attic next to him, petting the scales of his head, completely unafraid of his dragon form, and humming a soft French lullaby. She, alone, had nursed him back to health and made sure that he survived. The true depth of her kindness and compassion for others had never failed to amaze him.
There wasn’t a shapeshifter in this building or the one adjoining it who wouldn’t give his life to save hers.
But none more so than the lucky dark-haired bastard who called her his.
Fang Kattalakis came up to the front of the bar and passed around the specially brewed long-neck beers reserved for their “unique” shapeshifter metabolisms to let them know he’d locked the front door. A ritual that signified Sanctuary was now closed to the humans for a few hours of Were-Hunter respite. He angled his fortified beer at Max. “So many village idiots, brother. So few fire-breathing dragons.”
Dev burst out laughing.
Taking his beer, Max arched a brow at the strange remark, curious as to what prompted it. “Pardon?”
Fang released a long-suffering sigh as he glanced to his mate. “How attached are you to Cody? Can I offer him up as a sacrifice to Max? Please?” He glanced at Max. “I know he’s not a female or a virgin, but exactly how picky are you dragons about those things?”
Not wanting to go there for several personal reasons, Max moved to break down and clean the soda dispensers while Dev prepped the beer taps. “Depends on the dragon.”
Aimee tsked at them. “Please don’t kill and eat my little brother. I don’t want to listen to you bitch about the indigestion he’d give you, and I doubt Carson has enough Rolaids to cure that burn. Probably take half the firefighters in Orleans Parish to put it out.”
“Damn.” Fang sighed again. Then he looked up hopefully. “Hey, if I accidentally blew pepper in your face, Max, and you happened to sneeze, what are the odds you’d spew fire all over him?”
Running carbonated water into a metal bin, Max shook his head at the wolf. “Doesn’t work that way.”
“Then what good is having a fire-breathing dragon on hand?”
“There’s always Simi,” Dev said. “With enough barbecue sauce, she’ll eat anything. Even obnoxious bear kin.”
“Y’all are so bad.” Frowning, Aimee placed her hand to her distended stomach and sucked her breath in sharply.
Fang immediately teleported to the backside of the counter to support her. “You okay?”
Leaning back against him, she smiled up at her husband. “Your sons are frolicking like cubs on a picnic-honey high.”
A proud smile spread across his face. “The little she-wolves are nocturnal… Like their father.”
She snorted at that. “I swear, if I have puppies, I’m turning you into a wolf rug for my floor.”
Fang laughed, then kissed her cheek. “Why don’t you go on up and rest? I’ll finish closing and prepping the bar.”
Aimee hesitated.
“Don’t worry. I won’t even attempt the paperwork. After the gnarled mess I made of it last time, I have learned my lesson to keep my paws off it.” Fang motioned for the tall, blond Amazon who was sweeping the floor to join them. A former Dark-Hunter, Samia was Dev’s better, much more attractive half. In spite of the Greek goddess Samia had once been enslaved to that Max couldn’t stand, Max liked Sam a great deal, especially since she didn’t talk much. And she never asked him questions about his guarded past – something he appreciated even more.
Like Aimee, Sam was compassionate and kind when it came to others, whether they were people, animals, or a mixture of the two.
As soon as Aimee’s pregnancy had been made public, Sam and Dev had moved back into Dev’s old room in Peltier House next door to soothe Dev’s fears, as he worried like an old woman over the health and well-being of his only sister. Not that Aimee needed it. With eleven blood-related brothers and even more in-laws and close friends, she had more than her share of males wanting to help her lift any object in the place, and carve body parts off her husband for risking her life with a complicated hybrid pregnancy.
“Sam?” Fang asked as the Amazon paused at the counter. “Will you please take Aimee up to bed for me and make sure she’s tucked in?”
“Sure. Be glad to.” Sam held her gloved hand out to Aimee. “C’mon, hon. You don’t want to overtax yourself. You need to take care of those Chow Chows you’re carrying.”
Aimee groaned at her worst fear of what her hybrid bear-wolf children might look like. “You’re off my Christmas list, Sam. Anyone else?”