"You should be more concerned with failing me. I don't like disappointments." He drummed his hand idly over the black leather as he contemplated her news. "Tell me . . . did your spirits happen to give you the name of this loup-garou?"
"They called him Fang."
His hand froze midstroke. Fang . . .
That bastard who was supposed to die. The one who'd laid his filthy paws on his son.
Eli pulled his hand back as raw, unmitigated rage poured through him. "You have no idea how unhappy this makes me."
"There you would be wrong. I do know. But listen to me. My spirits are never wrong. An evil power will emerge here and it will threaten us all. We should beware."
Eli intended to do more than be wary of the trouble. He was going to rely on it and use it. And that is what gave him a brilliant plan.
Why hadn't he thought of this sooner?
Sanctuary laws didn't apply to all species. There was one in particular that they neither protected nor monitored. A species who wasn't bound to follow Omegrion rule.
Forget Varyk and what he was working on. This was so much better. It would be something that the Peltiers would never see coming.
Something that would destroy them forever.
"Cosette, my wily child, I have a new idea for you and your spirits."
True to his words, Fang stayed on at Sanctuary to work as a bouncer. Papa Bear had tried to make him a waiter, but one evening of that had proven disastrous since Fang lacked the proper temperament.
Whenever someone complained about their food, it didn't go well for them.
But for Aimee's intervention, there would still be a tourist in traction. And there was now a hole in the wall being patched by Quinn that was coming out of Fang's next paycheck.
So he worked as muscle when they needed it while Dev stayed at the door and monitored who came and went.
It wasn't the worst job in the world and it left him free to watch Aimee without her brothers tearing his eyes out of their sockets. Better yet, they paid him to keep an eye on her and make sure no one came on to her while she worked. It was definitely a job with perks.
And how he loved to watch her. The way she'd laugh with their regulars or tease the younger humans who'd come in to eat with their parents in the daytime. She always brought them special treats and would even sit down and draw with them if they weren't busy. She loved children of all species.
He couldn't help but wonder how much better she'd be with her own cubs. . . .
There was an unrivaled grace in everything she did and it made him ache just to watch her.
If only he were a bear. . . .
That thought tortured him constantly as they brushed past each other while trying to stay indifferent. It was so unfair, but then he knew that was how life went. And he seemed to be its whipping boy most days.
"Hey, Fang?" Remi barked in his usual distemper. "Give us a hand."
He turned his head to see Wren, Colt, and Remi trying to move the heavy speakers onstage to a new position so Angel, the lead singer of the Howlers, wouldn't bitch again about feedback.
Hernia here I come.
Aimee paused on her way to the bar to watch as Fang leapt up onstage without touching it. Shoving her notepad into her pocket, she bit the pencil in her mouth at the gorgeous sight of his backside.
The pencil snapped in two.
Spitting out pieces of lead and wood into her hand towel, she scoffed at herself. Yuck! Could anything be more gross?
And it was all Fang's fault.
What am I doing?