And FU attitude and anger.

No one got the better of him. Ever.

"What are you doing here?" Dev growled.

Fury shrugged nonchalantly and decided that a fight wouldn't get him inside—which was what he'd promised to do. Him. . . keeping a promise to someone other than himself. . . yeah. Right. Hell was freezing over. He still wasn't really sure how he'd allowed his brother Fang to talk him into this act of blatant suicide.

The bastard owed him.

Big Time.

"Peace, brother." Fury held his hands up in mock surren­der. "I'm just here to see Sasha."

Dev bared his teeth threateningly as he raked a glare over Fury's body that normally would have caused Fury to slug him for the insult. Damn, his brother Vane was rubbing off on him. "The Kattalakis patria isn't welcome here and you know it."

Fury arched a brow as he looked up at the sign over Dev's head. Flat black with electric blue and brown, it held a mo­torcycle on a hill that was silhouetted by a full moon. It also proclaimed Sanctuary to be the home of the Howlers, the house band. To the unobservant, it looked like any other club sign. But to those born cursed, like them, the shadows in the moon formed the outline of a dragon rising—a hidden symbol to the preternatural beings the world over.

This club wasn't just named Sanctuary, it was one. And all paranormal entities were allowed inside where no one could harm them. At least so long as they obeyed the first rule of a limani: No spill blood.

Fury tsked at Dev. "You know the laws of our people. You can't pick and choose who enters. All are welcomed equally."

"Fuck you," Dev snarled.

Fury shook his head as he bit back his natural caustic re­tort. Instead, he decided to handle it with biting sarcasm. "Thank you so much for the offer, but while you do have a certain feminine quality in your demeanor and a remarkable head of hair that any woman would envy, you're far too hairy for my tastes. No offense."