Dead After Dark (Companion #6.5)(2)

Fury gave him a one-finger salute. “Then I’ll try not to piss on the floor or hump the furniture . . .” He glanced down at Dev’s black, silver-studded boot. “Your leg, though, might be another matter.”

Dev growled again while Colt laughed and tightened his hold.

Colt indicated the door with a jerk of his chin. “Get your ass inside, Fury, before I decide to feed you to him.”

“I’m seriously not worth the indigestion.” With an antagonistic wink at Dev, Fury sauntered past them to enter the bar where the music was loud and pumping, something that made the wolf in him want to whine in protest as it assaulted his heightened hearing.

Since Colt was one of the Howlers, they weren’t on stage yet. But there was already a good-sized crowd gathered. Tourists and regulars were dancing or milling about on the first level of the three-story bar. No doubt it was just as crowded on the second floor, too. The third floor, however, was reserved for their kind only.

Fury tucked his hands into his back pockets as he moved through the people. It was easy to spot the bikers from the others since many of them were old school and covered in leather. The younger, hipper crowd wore nylon or Aerostitch suits like his while the tourists and college kids wore everything from short skirts to khaki pants to jeans.

As Fury passed the tables where customers could sit down and eat, he caught the gaze of the beautiful blond waitress who just happened to be the sister of the * outside.

Aimee Peltier.

Like her brother Dev, her long hair was blond, and she was tall and thin. Lithe. All in all, very attractive except for the fact that when she went to bed at night, she turned into a bear. He shuddered at the thought. His brother’s taste in women left a lot to be desired.

Aimee froze the moment she saw him.

He subtly indicated the bar with his eyes to let her know he had a message for her. She was the real reason he was here, but if any of her numerous brothers found that out, they’d both be dead.

So he continued on his way to the bar where three bartenders were making drinks. Since Dev was one of a set of identical quads, Fury felt like he was seeing double as another werebear came over to him. The only reason he could pick out Dev from his other three identical brothers was from the tattoo on his arm. With the other three, well, he really didn’t give a rat’s ass about who it was.

The quad narrowed his eyes threateningly. “What you want, Wolf?”

Nonchalant, Fury sat down. “Tell Sasha I need to see him.”

“Why you need to see him?”

Fury gave him a droll stare. “Wolf business, and the last time I sniffed, which I’m trying real hard not to do ’cause the stench of you *s is rough on my heightened sense of smell, you’re a bear. Grab his hide and send it over.”

“Do you have to piss off everyone you meet?” That soft voice went down his spine like a caress.

He turned to find Margarite Neely standing beside him. Tiny and human, Margery had one of the finest posteriors he’d ever seen on a woman. But therein was the problem. She was human, and he had a hard time relating to that breed, or any breed for that matter. Social skills were so not his forte. Like Margery had pointed out, he tended to piss off anyone dumb enough to come near him. Even when he didn’t mean to.

“It’s a congenital habit that serves me well most days.”

Laughing, she held a bottle of beer out toward him.

Fury shook his head, declining the offer. That stuff on his tastebuds . . . nasty. He frowned at her. “I’m surprised to see you down here.” She was the nurse for the Peltiers, and he normally only saw her when he was injured and in need of care. As a rule, she avoided the bar area and stayed in the hidden hospital that was attached to it.

She took a swig of beer. “Yeah, but there’s some bad mojo going down. I had to have a drink to steady my nerves.”

Since he’d never known her to drink, that intrigued him. “What kind of bad mojo?”

Sasha joined them and answered for her. “There’s a Litarian in Carson’s office.”

Fury scowled at Sasha, whose face was pale. If he didn’t know better, he’d think the wolf was shaken. “Yeah, so? There’s a lot of shit in his office most days.” Carson was the resident doctor and veterinarian that all the Were-Hunters in New Orleans went to when they were in need of medical services. The fact that he had a lion in his hospital shouldn’t even cause an eyebrow to raise.

Margery shook her head at him. “Not like this, Fury. He can’t turn human or use his magick.”

Now that was shocking. “What did you say?”

“The Arcadians hit him with something,” she said in a low tone as if afraid of being overheard. “We don’t know what. But it drained his powers instantly. He can’t even project his thoughts to his mate.”

Fury couldn’t breathe at the thought of that happening. Even though his base and primary form was that of a wolf and he lacked a lot of magick control, he still couldn’t imagine what it would be like to live entirely as an animal. “And you’re sure he’s not a regular lion?” It was a stupid question, but one that had to be stated.

They both gave him a “duh” stare.

Fury held his hands up in surrender. “Just checking. You guys could have had an aneurysm or something.”

Margery took a deep draught of her beer. “It’s been a bad day.”