The Dark-Hunters (653 page)

Sanctuary, New Orleans

“So that’s the infamous Sanctuary.…”

Fang Kattalakis looked up from where he was locking down his sleek Kawasaki Ninja to see Keegan eyeing the triple-story redbrick building across the street.

The pup was just hitting puberty—about thirty years old in human time, but true to their species and his Were-Hunter age, Keegan appeared around the human age of sixteen—which meant he was as excitable as an adolescent. Dressed in black leather to protect him while he rode his motorcycle, Keegan almost dropped his bike in his eagerness to visit the famed sanctuary that was owned by a family of bearweres.

Fang let out a long exasperated breath as he secured his helmet to his backpack. As punishment, he and his brother Vane had been assigned watch duty over Keegan and his twin brother, Craig.

Joy, oh joy. He’d rather have his entrails pulled out through his nostrils—whelp-sitting had never been to his taste. But at least they didn’t have their leader Stefan along on this outing. That would have resulted in all-out bloodshed since Fang had no respect or tolerance for Stefan even on his best day.

And today wasn’t even a “better” day.

The blond pup was all limbs as he started to leave, but Vane caught him by the scruff of his neck.

Keegan went instantly limp, which said it all about his age and inexperience. Even when he’d been a pup, Fang had
never
surrendered without a fight. It wasn’t in his nature.

Vane released his grip on the kid’s collar. “Don’t leave the pack, whelp. It’s a bad habit to develop. Wait on all of us.”

It was why they were all riding motorcycles. Since “average” young weren’t real good at teleporting until they were around forty or fifty years old, and because whelp powers tended to play havoc with even the strongest when being teleported by another, mundane human transportation was best.

So here they were.

Bored. Agitated. And looking human. What a disgusting combination.

Most of all, Fang was tired.

And since they were training the whelps to socialize and maintain human forms during the light of day …

Sanctuary had seemed the best and safest place to take them outside of camp. At least here if one turned wolf, the bears could hide it. Only the strongest of Katagaria wolves could remain human in daylight. If the pups couldn’t learn to hold their alternate human forms under the power of the sun by the time they turned thirty-five, their leader would order the pack to kill them.

It was a harsh world they lived in and only the strongest of their species survived. If they couldn’t fight and blend in with the humans, they were dead anyway. No need in wasting their precious resources on creatures who couldn’t defend the pack.

Vane glanced over to Fang as if waiting for him to say something nasty to Keegan. Normally Fang would have some smart-ass comment about the pup, but he was just too tired to bother.

“What’s taking so long?” Fury paused beside Fang, chafing at his delay. Not quite as tall as Fang, Fury was lean and vicious. With turquoise eyes, Fury had sharp features and everything about the wolf made Fang’s hackles rise. His long white-blond hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail.

Slinging the backpack over one shoulder, Fang raked him with a sneer that said what he thought about the wolf—not much. “Locking down my bike, asshole. You want I should lock it to you so that I know it’ll be here when I come back?”

Fury’s pupils narrowed. “I’d like to see you try.”

Before Fang could lunge at him, Liam, Keegan’s much older brother, was between them. “Down, wolves.”

In true wolf form, Fang bared his teeth at Fury, who returned the gesture. At Liam’s insistence, Fury moved past him while the eight other wolves crossed the street.

He and Vane pulled up the rear.

Fang indicated Fury with a jerk of his chin. “I really hate that bastard.”

“Don’t kill him yet. He has his uses.”

Maybe. But not enough of them that Fang wouldn’t rejoice to mount Fury’s hide to his wall. Not that he had a wall, but if he did, Fury would make a nice hairy decoration.

Fang turned his attention to his brother who was about an inch shorter—Fury’s height. “So why are we really here? We could have trained the pups in camp.”

Vane shrugged. “Markus wanted us to register with the bears. Since we have so many burdened females, we might need the help of their doctor.”

Yeah, their sister Anya and half a dozen other females would give birth at any minute. Markus, the unwilling sperm donor for the three of them, had also wanted his “sons” out of his sight. Which was fine with Fang. He wasn’t exactly fond of the old fart either. He would have already challenged him for leadership, but Vane and Anya kept pulling him back.

Since Vane was an Arcadian hiding in the midst of their Katagaria pack, the last thing they needed was Fang to be leader. That would lead to uncomfortable questions such as why Vane, his elder littermate who was their father’s heir apparent and one they all knew had more magick strength than Fang did, wasn’t the one fighting for leadership. But Vane could
never
do that. Because pain tended to make them involuntarily shift into their base forms, they couldn’t risk Vane accidentally turning human in a fight.

It was why Fang had stayed up all night. Unconscious and badly wounded, Vane had been forced to sleep as a human. Their pack would kill his brother if any of them ever suspected Vane’s true base form.

Yawning, Fang caught up to the pack that’d been stopped at Sanctuary’s door by the club’s bouncer. Bulkier than the wolves, the bear had long curly blond hair and wore a black T-shirt with the Sanctuary logo on it that was partially covered by a worn black leather jacket.

His blue eyes carefully scrutinized them. “Pack?”

Vane stepped forward. “Kattalakis Grand Regis Lykos … Katagaria.”

The bear arched his brow as if impressed with their pedigree. Grand Regis meant that their father had a seat on the Omegrion—the council that oversaw and made the laws that governed all Were-Hunters. Since there were only twenty-three members (twenty-four originally, but one species had gone extinct), it was impressive to be one of them. “Any among you bearing the Kattalakis name?”

“Me and my brother.” Vane indicated Fang.

The bear nodded as he folded his arms over his chest and took on a tough stance. “We’re Peltiers. I’m Dev—one of a set of identical quadruplets so no, you’re not seeing double or triple inside—and stay clear of the one who looks like me dressed completely in black—Remi’s an irritable SOB. My mother, Nicolette, is the Katagaria Grand Regis Ursulan—so don’t start no shit, won’t be no shit. Quick rule rundown. No fighting, no biting, no magick. You break the rules, we break body parts and you’re banned from here …
if
you survive.” He passed a meaningful stare to the pups. “In short, come in peace or leave in pieces. You got it?”

Fang raised his hand to flip him off, but Vane caught his wrist before he could.

“We understand.”

Hissing from the burn Vane was putting on him, Fang twisted out of his brother’s grasp.

Vane glared at him.
Keep your mouth shut and your gestures to yourself,
he mentally projected to him.

I don’t take orders from bears.

No, but you take them from me. Behave, Fang, or I’ll kick your ass back to the Stone Age.
Vane grabbed the sleeve of his jacket and dragged him into the bar.

Fang shoved him away. Unless he took him down with magick, Vane was nowhere near as strong as he was. “I’m not your bitch, boy.”

Vane turned on him with a look that said he was one step away from taking his best shot. “Then do it for Anya. We might need them to help us if she has problems with her litter.”

That was a low blow and it was the one thing Vane knew he wouldn’t fight against. Anya was their lifeblood. For her, they’d do anything.

“Fine. I’m just irritable from lack of sleep.”

“Why didn’t you sleep?”

I was protecting you.…
Some of the wolves had been on the prowl last night and Fang had feared them stumbling over Vane’s position while he healed from his wounds and slept. So he’d stayed up to make sure Vane’s injured scent and den went undiscovered.

But he would never tell his brother the truth. It would shame Vane to think his younger brother had protected him. “I don’t know. I just couldn’t.”

“So who was she?”

Fang rolled his eyes. “Why do you assume it was a female?”

Vane held his hands up. “Didn’t know you were fond of men. I’ll file that under my special Fang folder.”

Ignoring him, Fang glanced around the infamous dark club that wasn’t overly crowded in the late afternoon. A few humans sat at tables while more played pool and video games in the back. An empty dance area was set before a stage with the name “Howlers” spraypainted in dark blue and white on the back wall.

Craig and Keegan pulled three tables together in a corner to accommodate the ten of them. Some of the humans eyed them nervously which Fang found hysterical, especially the woman who put her purse in her lap as they passed. Like a wolf needed money. But then, they were a rough-looking bunch. Decked out in biker leathers, each of them was ready to fight if they had to.

The only one of them even remotely clean-cut was Vane, who wore jeans with a brown leather jacket and a dark red T-shirt. That being said, he had the longest hair of any of them. But with it pulled back into a ponytail and with a clean shave, he was passable. The rest of them looked like the feral beasts they were.

Fang dropped his backpack on the floor and took a seat to stretch out his long legs. Leaning against the wall, he adjusted his sunglasses and closed his eyes to catch a combat “nap” while they shot the crap among themselves. If he could just have ten uninterrupted minutes to sit and think about nothing, he’d be a new wolf.…

*   *   *

“There’s a pack of wolves who just came in.”

Her stomach sliding into her stomach, Aimee Peltier glanced up from the ledger where she was going over new orders. Their mother, Nicolette Peltier, froze at Dev’s dry declaration.

She met Aimee’s quizzical look as she pushed herself back from the large brown desk. “How many?”

“Looks to be eight Slayers and two pups in training.”

Maman arched one blond brow. Though she was approaching eight hundred years old, she appeared to be no older than a forty-year-old human. Dressed in a fitted blue business suit and with her blond hair pulled back in a tight chignon, she looked prim and proper—unlike Aimee, who was dressed in a T-shirt and jeans and wore her long hair down. “Slayers or Strati?”

Strati were Katagaria warriors who were the fiercest of the bunch and usually quick to anger. The pups, due to hormonal shifts that were even worse on Were-kind than humans, were even more so. But they usually lacked the power and strength to back their egos. Slayers, on the other hand, were indiscriminate killers who slew any and everything that got in their way. Arcadians applied the latter to any Katagari soldier as a justification for why they needed killing.

If this group of wolves really were Slayers, their presence in the bar was like a keg of dynamite resting on an open hearth with a raging fire.

Dev scratched at the back of his neck. “They’re technically Strati, but these are hard-core cases. Wouldn’t take much to make them Slayers.”

Aimee stood up. “I’ll go wait on them.”

Dev blocked her exit. “Cherise already got their orders.”

She was aghast at his recklessness. “You trusted a human to wait on them?” Was he out of his mind?

Dev seemed unperturbed by his own stupidity. “Cherise is too even-tempered and sweet. I doubt even a true Slayer could be mean to her. Besides, I know how you feel about wolves and thought I’d spare you having to deal with them. We don’t need any more drama here for a while.”

It was true. Her encounters with wolves had never gone well. She couldn’t explain it, but she shared her mother’s distaste of their kind. Wolves were violent and filthy. Arrogant to the extreme.

Most of all, they stank to her “bear” sensitivity.

Nicolette stood up. “Aimee, go and keep an eye on them. Make sure they don’t cause any trouble while they’re here. I don’t want another spectacle. If they so much as sniff in the wrong direction, throw them out.”

She inclined her head to her mother.

Dev shifted to one side to let her pass. “If you need a hand, I’ll be there with backup faster than you can say ‘wolf stain.’”

Aimee had to stop herself from sighing in aggravation at her overprotective brother. He meant well. But there were times when she felt completely stifled by her family.

Even so, she loved them … warts and all.

Patting him on the arm, she walked down the hallway to the kitchen where humans unknowingly mixed with a Were-Hunter staff. They thought this was a normal bar and restaurant. If only they knew the truth.…

She grabbed her apron and tied it at the waist before she reached for her tray.

“Where have you been?”

She paused at her brother Remi’s bark. Identical in looks to Dev, no surprise since they were two of the identical quads Maman had birthed, he’d inherited all the surly anger of his other three brothers combined.

Plus he barely tolerated her.

“With Maman, ordering food and alcohol. Not that it’s any of your business.”

Remi skirted a stainless-steel industrial table to encroach on her personal space in a way that made her want to knee him hard in his “man” pride. “Yeah, well, there’s a bunch of wolves—”

“Dev already told me.”

“Then get your butt out there and watch them.”

She raked him with a sneer. “Nice attitude, Rem. Really, you should see about suing whatever asshole sold it to you.”

He lunged at her.

Aimee caught him with her tray and shoved him back. “Don’t, brother. I’m not in the mood.”

He shoved her back.

“Remi!”

He froze as their father came into the kitchen. Over seven feet tall and well muscled, Papa Bear was a frightening sight, even to the children who knew he would never harm them. His long blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail that matched Remi’s. In fact, he looked as much like Remi as Dev did and unless someone knew better, Papa could pass as an older brother.