Dev held his hands up and shook his head.
The bearswan glared at him, then turned toward her husband as Dev’s identical brother sauntered up to grab a fortified beer from Fang. The fierce, bloodthirsty grimace on his face would have sent small children screaming for their mothers and made seasoned gladiators wet their armor in terror.
Aimee tsked at his expression. “Fang, make sure Dev doesn’t kill Rémi while I’m gone.”
Popping the top off the beer, the bearswain looked at her with an even fiercer scowl. “Not Rémi… Cherif. Damn, Aims, you’re usually the only one who can tell us apart. Has the pregnancy knocked loose your brain cells?”
Aimee bit her lip. “Sorry, Boo. The way you’ve been scowling all night, I could have sworn you were Rémi.”
Dev, Rémi, and Cherif were part of a set of identical quadruplets, with their brother Quinn rounding out their number. Alone, the bears were badass. Together, they were damn near invincible.
Unless you happened to be a fire-breathing dragon. Then there wasn’t much in this world that provided a threat to your health or well-being.
Cherif snorted. “Yeah, well, what do you expect? Y’all threw me upstairs with Etienne all night. He’s been dry humping my last nerve like it’s the only female he’s seen for a hundred years. I swear, Maman should have done us all a favor and eaten that cub at birth. At least it would have saved my humor… and sanity. You’re all lucky they’re not hauling me away for murder right about now.”
“Here, here.” Dev clanked bottles with him. “Where is the little prick?”
“Finishing up a hand of poker with Eros. I’m hoping he wins and the god splinters him on the wall in anger. That’s one mess I’d volunteer to clean.”
Aimee met Max’s amused gaze. “Oh my God, they’re awful! I’m so glad you love your brother.”
Max shrugged as he rinsed off the soda nozzles and put them back in place. “What can I say? Absence does indeed make the heart grow fonder, and the guilt of having him locked away in a hell realm for a thousand years means I have to tolerate any annoying habit Illarion possesses with utmost patience.”
She popped Dev in the stomach. “See how great dragons are? You should be taking notes.”
“Fine. Lock Etienne and Rémi in a hell realm for a thousand years and I promise I’ll be nice to them when they get out.”
Fang laughed. “Give it up, Aimee. You’re not going to win this one.”
“Are you seriously taking his side?”
Fang went pale. “Uh, no. Never. I’m not a dumb wolf and I have no desire to sleep in a doghouse tonight.”
Playfully, she wagged her finger at him before she tapped his nose and kissed him.
All of a sudden, there was a loud crash upstairs that said Cherif might have gotten his wish that Eros had killed Etienne for winning. But it wasn’t the unexpected noise that made the hair on the back of Max’s neck rise. It was a fissure in the air he hadn’t felt in centuries. One that went down his spine like a shredder.
Every sense he possessed was on high alert.
No. There was no way it was possible…
It couldn’t be.
His breath caught as he saw a bleeding Serre scrambling down the stairs, leading a small group of women dressed in the ancient war garb and armor of a long-dead race. While Sanctuary closed to humans at four thirty in the morning, it remained open around the clock to any preternatural creature who needed a safe haven to rest from battle. Limani such as this had always been few and far between, and in the twenty-first century, there were only a handful left intact and operating.
As a precaution to keep humans from accidentally discovering their supernatural breed and freaking out, the Peltier bear family had the entire building shielded. Anyone coming here by way of magick was confined to do so on the third floor only, where a shapeshifting bouncer was always posted.
Tonight, Serre Peltier had pulled that duty. As blond as his brothers and sister, he was a slightly smaller version of the quads, which meant he was still bigger than most creatures. But even so, it hadn’t kept him from getting his ass kicked by the Arcadian newcomers who beat him down in front of their group.
So much for abiding by the eirini, or so-called peace laws, that Savitar and the Omegrion had set down for their species to follow.
Blond and built for murder, the leader of the small group of women grabbed Serre by his short hair and wrenched his head up to show his battered face to their group. She held an old-fashioned Greek kopis to his throat. “Who owns this place?”
When Aimee started forward, Max, her brothers, and her husband cut her off to protect her and the unborn babies she carried. It was obvious this preter group was here for war and not to make peace or truce.