Ash took a deep breath and would have laughed at the absurdity of what he faced had he not felt ill. This just wasn't his day.
He had a horny, pissed-off goddess to contend with. A Celt who was MIA. A Roman general in a city with three men who wanted to disembowel him. An uncontrollable Dark-Hunter the police wanted for murder. And now a Katagaria wolf pack that was popping out seven litters of pups right in the heart of their enemies.
Yes, it was good to be in charge...
Nick sniffed the air and looked around. "What is that? Do I smell gumbo?"
Vane and Fang stiffened as Nick moved closer to them.
In spite of the fact that Vane was growling under his breath, Nick pulled back a corner of Vane's coat to display a bright pink box that he had hidden in his left hand.
"What is that?" Nick asked.
"Gumbo," Vane said, his voice low and gravelly.
"Since when do werewolves eat gumbo?"
Ash cringed at Nick's question.
Fang lunged at Nick, but Ash caught him and forced him back before he could reach Nick's throat.
"We're not werewolves, cattle-boy," Fang snarled. "We are wolves. Period."
Nick looked bemused by the insult. "Cattle-boy?"
"Slang term," Ash supplied. "Stemming from the fact that they view humans as food."
Nick took a step back.
"Pink boxes, huh?" Ash asked, amused at the thought. No wonder they were hiding them.
Vane passed a menacing glare from Nick to him. "Anya had a craving for gumbo and chocolate. And she wanted it from the Flamingo Room and nowhere else."
Ash felt the corners of his lips twitch. "I can't believe you would run this errand for your sister."
Fang snorted. "Yeah well, remember, the term bitch was invented for our females."
Vane growled at him. "She's our littermate, Fang. Show her respect."
Fang's eyes flared, but he tilted his head down in submission to his older brother.
Vane handed the pink box to Fang, then pulled a pen from his pocket and wrote down a number. He handed it to Ash. "That's my cell. You need help with the Daimons, let me know. We have a dozen Strati in our pack and the last thing we want are Daimons sniffing around our females and pups."
Ash took the number and put it in his pocket. He'd barely concealed it when he noticed the rest of the Strati moving in.
They moved stealthily around the street corner like a herd of wild dogs. Fanned out and dressed in black, they looked very much like the lethal killers they were. Everyone on the street rushed away from them, and eyed them nervously.
So much for being low-key. But then, the Were-Hunters had never cared who or what knew they existed. If anyone gave them trouble, they ended up as lunch.
The Strati surrounded him and Nick.
"Dark-Hunter," Stefan growled. Standing even in height with Ash, he was the Strati leader and Vane's mortal enemy. The two of them fought together when they had to, but otherwise couldn't stand each other. "What are you doing with our filos?"
Ash noted the way Stefan's lips curled as he used the affectionate term for a male pack member. There was no love lost between Vane and Fang and their packmates. Still, Ash was an outsider and the pack always presented itself as a unified whole to any outsider.
"I was sharing information," he said.
Stefan narrowed his eyes on Vane. "Did you acquire our supplies?"