“Do we look like rabbits to you?”

Vane smacked the blond-haired man to his right on the shoulder. “Knock it off, Fury.”

The wolf looked pissed, but reined himself in. As wolves, they all deferred to the alpha, even when it galled them to do it. Of course, they would also fight to the death at his command. No matter how much they fought among themselves, at the end of the day they were always united against any outsider. It was what made them so dangerous.

Wolves never fought alone.

They fought as a pack. Rabid. Cold. Lethal. And together they could kill just about anything that lived… or even those that didn’t.

“Do you have anything sweet?”

Aimee turned her attention to Fang at his unorthodox request. Bears loved sweets, but wolves usually stuck to meat. “You have a sweet tooth?”

“Not me. It’s for our sister. She’s burdened and has been craving sweets.”

This time she did smile as warmth seeped through her. “And you want to take something back to her?”

He nodded.

What a nice thing to do. It was something her-she froze at the stab of pain that thought caused. Even now that memory was razor-sharp and cut her to the quick. She always did her best not to think about Bastien and Gilbert. Still, they snuck into her thoughts many times a day. “You got it. I’ll toss in a couple of meats and treats for her.”

“Much obliged.”

For some reason she couldn’t explain, Aimee wanted to stay and talk to the wolf. If for no other reason than to listen to the deep timbre of his voice when he spoke. There was a slight lilt to his speech that said he’d lived in England at some point in his life. It was really seductive…

What is wrong with me? I hate wolves.