"Human."
"Then I wasn't asleep, was I, Scooby?"
She arched her brow at the insult. Wolves didn't like to be compared to dogs and to refer to them as a cartoon dog known for his lack-witted antics usually resulted in a fight.
The fact the blond wolf didn't attack over it corroborated Fang's ferocity in a way nothing else did.
Fang shifted his weight and pulled his sunglasses off as if trying to be respectful of Aimee's presence-something that seemed incongruous to her and yet . . . these wolves were nothing like what she expected.
And his eyes . . .
They were a gorgeous brown with a hint of rust in them. Yet it was the pain and intelligence inside them that reached out to her. A pain that seemed boundless.
Yawning, Fang scratched at the thick whiskers on his face. "Though it wasn't for lack of trying."
The youngest wolf-pup came up to her. "Let me help you with that."
"I've got it," she said gently, surprised by how well mannered these wolves were. The ones she'd run into in the past had been from the lowest rung of the evolutionary scale.
As soon as the tray was down, they all took their drinks without waiting for her to hand them out.
Vane took her towel and wiped the tray dry before he held it out to her.
Aimee smiled at him. "Thank you." It was actually disconcerting to see wolves who appeared this rough having manners. She wasn't sure how to deal with them.
As she started away, the one named Fang stopped her with a gentle touch. "You dropped this." He bent down to pick up her pad that must have fallen out of her apron pocket.
As he stood up, she became aware of exactly how large a man he was. Not beefy like the bears she was used to, he was lean.
And he was ripped. Solid like taut steel.
"Thanks."
Fang couldn't speak as he looked into the clearest pale blue eyes he'd ever seen. They were set into the face of a blond angel. One who had just the smallest hint of a dimple in her right cheek when she spoke.
Her skin looked softer than velvet, and for some reason he couldn't name, he wanted to lay the backs of his fingers against her cheek to see if it was as soft as it appeared.
And her smell . . . it was lavender and lilac. Normally the scent of another species was repugnant to his wolf's heightened senses. But not hers. She smelled warm and sweet. So sweet that it was all he could do not to rub his face in the crook of her neck to experience more of it.
When her hand brushed his, his body erupted with heat.
Without a word, she put the pad in her pocket and turned away.
Fang had to catch himself to keep from following after her.
Vane handed him his beer, interrupting his attention. When he looked back, the female bear was gone.
"You okay?"
Fang nodded at Vane's question. "Just tired."
The moment he started to sit down, the bearswan was back. They all shot to their feet-something that was ingrained in them. Wolves protected their women stronger than any other Were-Hunter kind. Loyal and deadly, they were trained from birth to show respect to females, regardless of species. The fact that this bear was related to the ones who owned the bar made her even more honored.
The bearswan pulled her pad back out. "My name's Aimee. I forgot to take your orders."
Aimee . . . it was a beautiful, soft name and perfect for her. Even though he didn't repeat it out loud, he knew it would roll off his tongue like fine whisky.
"Steak," Vane said. "Rare as possible."