Vane scoffed. "Is that the real reason?"
"What else?"
Vane looked at the door, then lowered his voice to a low whisper. "Aimee."
Fang snorted, even though his brother was a lot closer to the truth than he ever wanted to admit. "We're friends."
"If you say so. But you have to know that if you're messing with her-"
"I'm not an idiot," he said between clenched teeth. "Wolves and bears don't mix."
"Keep that close. It may be the only thing that saves your life."
Fang rolled his eyes.
Vane clapped him on the back. "If you need me-"
"I'll call."
He shook his head. "I won't let you down again, Fang. I swear it."
"I know." But Fang still wasn't sure if he could trust Vane. His brother hadn't meant to let him down before. Yet it had happened.
Vane held his hand out to him.
Fang took it and let Vane pull him into a tight man hug. He patted him on the back before he left.
Alone, Fang returned to bed only to have someone else knock on the door. He knew instantly who it was. Only one person had that soft, hesitant knock and smelled of vanilla-scented lavender. "Come in, Aimee."
She pushed the door open to frown at him while she held a tray of food. "How did you know it was me?"
"I smelled you."
She tsked. "And to think I waste all that time bathing every day and all my money on soap. Why do I bother when I obviously smell to high heaven?"
He smiled in spite of himself as she set the tray aside. "I like the straight lavender more than that vanilla stuff you have on right now."
She cocked her head in mock offense and rested one hand on her hip. "Oh, I'm being dissed by the wolf who didn't bathe for . . . how many months was it?"
"Not my fault. You could have bathed me."
"Ha! Then you would have been skinned and would have never needed a bath again."
He despised how charmed he was by this exchange. More to the point, how charmed he was by her presence. "Why are you here?"
"I wanted to make sure you and Vane were good."
"Yeah."
She looked at him suspiciously as she neared the bed. "You don't sound sold on it."
"It's not that. I love my brother. I'm just . . ." Bitter. That was the only word to do any kind of justice to his surly mood. He only hoped it was temporary. "It's nothing that I won't get over."
She handed him a beer. "If you say so."
He took it from her and eyed the tray of food she'd parked on his dresser. "I thought I told you I wasn't hungry."
"I figured you were lying."