Sherrilyn Kenyon: Invincible

The man laughed and playfully shoved his arm. “Relax, kid. Don’t wet my floor. I was just teasing you.”

Easier said than done, since his heart was racing like Richard Petty at Daytona.

He shook his head. “I’m Papa Bear Peltier. You have a name?”

“N-n-nick.”

“Nice meeting you, N-n-nick.” He pulled a token out of his pocket and held it out to him. “Sorry I ruined your game. But I love the look of shock on people’s faces the first time they meet me. It’s a thing of beauty.”

Nick took the token, but still wasn’t sure what to think.

He’s a good guy, kid. Thank him for the token.

“Um, thanks.”

Papa Bear patted him on the shoulder, then walked over toward the stage so that he and another guy who was an exact copy of Rémi could run electrical cords on the ground.

“Close your mouth, sug. Papa only bites those who bare their teeth first.”

He turned at the soft, lightly accented voice to find what had to be one of the most gorgeous women he’d ever seen. Tall, blond, and built with the kind of curves men dreamed about, she wore a black Sanctuary T-shirt that was tight enough to make him really uncomfortable.

“I’m Aimee Peltier. You must be Nick.”

Man, she had better powers than he did. “How do you know my name?”

She leaned in to speak into his ear as if she were imparting a great secret to him. “Your mother told me in the back room,” she whispered.

Oh yeah, duh. He felt epically stupid with that.

“C’mon and let me introduce you to the crew that is currently awake and functioning.”

Unsure about that, Nick hesitated. “Why?” Was she going to feed him to the bears or something?

“Since your mom will be working here and your school is just down the street, you’ll probably be hanging out a lot in the near future.”

“Oh.” Finally relaxing, he allowed her to lead him to the busboy with the monkey.

“Wren, say hi to Nick.”

The busboy didn’t respond other than to glare out from under his mop of gnarled hair.

Aimee took it in stride. “Wren doesn’t really speak. But he’s a nice guy, and he lives next door in our house. You’ll see him a lot, since he has no personal life or outside interests. He basically works all the time.” She scratched the monkey on its head. “And his furry little friend is Marvin. Marvin, say hi to Nick.”

The monkey jumped from Wren’s shoulder to Nick’s, startling him. Nick grabbed him and held him close while Marvin mussed his hair and stuck one leathery little finger in his ear. Ew!

“He likes to mess with people’s hair.” Aimee held her hand out, and Marvin allowed her to pull him into her arms and hug him. “Marvin’s a little beggar. Keep some snacks handy, and he’ll be your new best friend.” She nuzzled his nose before returning him to Wren.

Wren didn’t say a word as Marvin perched on his shoulder. He merely went back to work, wiping down the tables.

Aimee led Nick away. “You met Rémi when you arrived. My best advice to you on that is to learn which of the quads he is.”

“Quads?”

She gestured to the stage, where Papa and the Rémi look-alike were working. “I have four brothers who are identical quads. Quinn!” she called.

The younger werebear looked up.

She smiled and waved him back to work. “That’s obviously Quinn. I thought so, but sometimes, rare though it is, I can’t tell him from Cherif. They have the same exact haircut, which they occasionally do to mess with us. It’s normally a little shorter than Rémi’s and Dev’s. Dev you can spot pretty easy because he’s always laughing and cracking sarcastic jokes—your mom said that that’s right up your alley. He also has a double bow and arrow tattoo on his arm, and he’s most often the one at the door. He took the day off to run over to Kenner to pick up a motorcycle he had on order.” She drew up short and gave him a sinister look. “If you approach one of them and he growls or doesn’t speak, assume it’s Rémi. He has perpetual PMS and will tear your arm right out of its socket. You don’t really have to do anything other than breathe to piss him off. Word to the wise.”

He made a mental note of that as she took him to the bar.

“The blond is Jasyn. Jasyn, say hi to Nick.”

The werehawk inclined his head to him.

“The other charming bartender this morning is Justin.”

Black hair, tall, and with an aura of I’ll kick your butt so hard, you’ll be burping my shoe leather . Another one Nick intended to avoid.

An older version of Aimee came out from the door next to the bar. She paused as she caught sight of him.

He felt like he was under a microscope as she eyed him from head to toe.

Finally, she held her hand out. “Good day, Mr. Gautier. I am Nicolette. But please, call me Mama Lo.”

“Mama Lo.”

Her glower melted into a kind expression. “Welcome to our family. I hear you work for Kyrian.”

“I do. Until he fires me.”

She laughed. “No need to give him reason to. Besides, he doesn’t fire his people. He kills them.”

“Maman!” Aimee said with a laugh. “The poor boy doesn’t know you’re kidding.”

“Nick? What are you doing here?”

He turned at the call that came from Alex’s sister Kara, who also went to school with them. Even in height to him, she had the same blond hair as Aimee and Mama Lo.

Aimee explained his presence before he had a chance. “His mother will be working for us, Kiki. Why don’t you take him to the kitchen? I’m pretty sure Morty’s cookies are done.”

Cookies? Dang, if they kept this up, he was going to be huge.

But it would be worth it.

Nick took a step toward the kitchen, then paused as a cold chill went down his spine. Something was here and it was evil.

He searched the room until his gaze found the source of his discomfort. The man stepped through the door behind the women, carrying a silver tray. Dressed in a black T-shirt and gray hoodie, at first glance, he appeared like any guy around the age of twenty.

Until Nick locked gazes with him. It felt like electricity jolted him. There was no denying the intensity of this creature’s presence.

He was Death, and he’d ridden in on a pale horse.…

Okay, Death wasn’t exactly on a pale horse. He was carrying it.…

Nick wanted to run for the door, but he couldn’t get his feet to obey. It was like every joint in his body was locked by some invisible force.

“Morty!” Kara said excitedly. “Your ears must have been burning. I was just going to come and find you.”

His gaze never left Nick’s. “Really? No wonder I knew to come out, then. Must have heard all of you screaming for cookies of Death.”

Nick watched as the pale horse, which was no bigger than his hand, reared up on the stack of cookies. Its color was like nothing he’d ever seen before. A strange mixture of blue and white, the color seemed to be a living entity all its own. The miniature horse snorted fire from its nostrils before it ran down Morty’s arm and vanished inside the pocket of his hoodie.

WTH?

More than that, was the image of Morty dressed in black armor, brandishing a sword. His black hair whipped around his face and shoulders, while his eyes glowed a fierce, vibrant red and his skin glinted like it was bronze and not flesh.

Nick glanced around to see if any of the weres had noticed. If they did, they gave no indication.

“Would you like a cookie, kid?”

It took him a second to realize Death was speaking to him. “What?”

“Do. You. Want. A. Cookie?”

He could have done without the tone that said Death thought he was a moron.