Colt led him through the kitchen and past another Dev lookalike to a door that opened into a house that was decorated in a turn-of-the-century Victorian style. The walls were painted a soft yellow while the furniture was a mix of burgundy and black. The dark wood gave it a very regal appearance.
"Peltier House," Colt explained as he kept walking. "You weren't here earlier when Papa Bear toured your brother around. This is where the Were-Hunters who call Sanctuary home live when not working in the club. There are four floors of bedrooms total, but most of the Peltiers are on the second floor."
Colt headed upstairs. "Carson's the doc and vet and his office is here." He touched the first door they passed on the second floor and kept going to the end of the hall.
He stopped at the last door. Tapping lightly, he leaned close to it. "Aimee? You there?"
"Trying to nap, Colt."
"Sorry, but there's a visitor here who wants to see you."
The door opened so fast Colt almost fell in. Aimee looked surprised, then pissed to see Fang standing behind him. "What are you doing here?"
Fang shrugged. "Come to inadvertently insult you some more apparently. Who knew?"
Instead of being amused, which is what he'd been hoping for, she narrowed her gaze on him. "I really don't like you."
Fang leaned forward to smirk. "You're really not supposed to."
Colt's eyes widened. "Should I leave you two alone? Or stay and referee?"
"You can leave. I'm just returning this." Fang held up the camera. "And then leaving myself."
Without another word, Colt headed back the way they'd come.
Aimee snatched the camera away from Fang's grasp. "Where did you get this?"
"You must have dropped it."
She leaned out the door to make sure Colt was gone before she whispered in a low tone. "Did you tell anyone I was there?"
"No. Did you want me to?"
"No." She looked extremely relieved. "Thank you." Then, in the blink of an eye, she turned angry again. "Did you look at my pictures?" That was more an accusation than a question.
"Was I not supposed to?"
She screwed her face up. "Oh, you're such a pig! That's my privacy you've invaded. How dare you!"
Fang felt blindsided by her rapid mood swings. He was definitely going to need a signal light to keep up with her. "Are you always this high-strung?"
"I am not high-strung!"
"If you say so. But really, they need to put a collar on you that changes color with your mood swings."
She curled her lip as if his words disgusted her on the highest level. "Oh, you are feral."
"Yeah, duh."
She rolled her eyes.
Fang started to leave, then swung back around. "By the way, I did not overreact earlier in the bayou. You could have been torn apart."
Shaking her head, she blustered before she finally spoke again. "Enough already with your macho bullcrap. I am sick to death of men telling me how to run my life. In case you didn't notice, I have a whole bevy of men downstairs just dying to tell me how I don't measure up. The last thing I need is another one."
"Maybe you should listen to them once in a while."
"And maybe you should mind your own business."