CHAPTER ONE

January 2003
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 spray-painted 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.

“Leave your sister alone. Now go wash dishes until you cool down.”

Remi glared at him. “She provoked me.”

Papa sighed. “Everyone provokes you, mon fils. Now go and do as I say.”

Aimee offered her father a reconciliatory smile. “It’s just a mild disagreement, Papa. Remi has this whole need to breathe in and out, which annoys me. If he would just stop breathing, I’d be fine.”

Her father gave her a chiding stare. “Never say such to me, chere. I’ve already buried enough sons and you brothers. Now apologize to Remi.”

Completely contrite, Aimee went over to her brother. Her father was right, she didn’t want anything to happen to anyone else in her family. Even as surly as Remi was, she still loved him more than anything and would protect him with her life. “I’m sorry.”

“You ought to be.”

Aimee growled at his hostile personality. Why did he have to pick a fight with everyone?

She glared at her father. “You know, it’s a shame Katagaria bears don’t eat their young, especially the annoying ones.”

Wanting to put distance between them, she headed out the door, into the bar area where the human waitress, Cherise Gautier, was filling drinks. Petite and blond, Cherise had the kindest disposition of any being Aimee had met in her three hundred years of living. Creatures like her were rare and Aimee wished she could be more like her.

Unfortunately, she had too much of Remi in her for that—another reason she couldn’t stand her brother most days. They were two peas in a pod that together made an unsightly mush.

“Hey, Aimee,” Cherise said with a bright smile that cheered her instantly. “You okay, baby? You’re looking a little flushed.”

“I’m fine.”

Cherise gave her a gimlet stare as she covered her hand and gave a supportive squeeze. “You fight with your brother again, boo?”

There were times when she could swear that human had preternatural powers. “Don’t we always?”

Unperturbed, Cherise returned to setting glasses on her tray. “Well, that’s what family’s for. But you know what I do. Anyone threaten you, Remi would have their posterior for dinner and you would do the same for him. That boy love you more than his life. Never forget that.” Cherise started to pick up the tray.

“I got it.” Aimee cut in front of her.

Cherise frowned. “You sure?”

“Absolutely. Besides, it’s time for your break.”

Her expression skeptical, Cherise stepped back. “All right then. I’ll be just a shout away if we get busy suddenly. Those are for table thirty.”

Aimee hefted the tray up and cursed at how heavy eight beers with iced mugs and two Cokes could be. It was a good thing she’d taken it from the human. As tiny and frail as Cherise was, she’d have had a hard time carrying it. But true to form, the human would never utter a single word of complaint. Cherise had never once bitched about anything or anyone.

Aimee carefully made her way from the bar area to the tables in front where the dogs had taken refuge. As she came around the corner, she let out an aggravated breath.

Sure enough, they looked like the dregs of the animal kingdom. Scruffy, leather-wearing brutes. She just hoped the younger two didn’t try to hump the furniture or some human’s leg.

Though as she drew closer, she couldn’t help noticing that the one with the longer hair was extremely good-looking. His dark hair was made up of a myriad of colors. Red, mahogany, brown, black, even some blond. It was as striking as his dark eyes.

The only other one of them really noteworthy was the one wearing a black biker jacket, who leaned back in his chair with his incredibly long legs stretched out in front of him. His black T-shirt was pulled tight over a stomach that was rock-hard and flat. With short dark hair and an evident nasty attitude, he was hard to miss. His rugged features were covered with several days’ growth of beard and his eyes were completely concealed behind a pair of opaque sunglasses.

There was something about him that screamed power. Something lethal. Deadly. Raw. The animal in her could appreciate how impressive it was to give off that vibe while completely at ease. It also set off her instincts and made her extremely wary of the whole group.

Yeah, that one wolf gave the word Slayer a whole new meaning. She glanced around the room to locate her allies. Her brothers Zar and Quinn were at the bar. Colt, another bear who lived with them, was having a drink in front of them. Their busboy, Wren, who was a tigard, stood in the far corner cleaning tables while his pet monkey, Marvin, was poking his head out of Wren’s apron pocket.

She was adequately covered if she needed it.

Putting off her own “screw you” aura, she closed the distance between them.

As soon as they saw her approaching, the wolves stood up . . . except for the one who looked the baddest of all. He continued to lean back with his arms folded over his chest.

“Fang!” the one with long dark hair snapped, kicking at his legs.

Fang came to his feet with a curse so foul, it actually made her blush. He had the one who’d barked his name in his hands before he seemed to realize what he’d done. “Vane?”

“Yeah, dick, let me go.”

The long-haired white-blond wolf closest to Fang lowered his head threateningly. “Were you sleeping?”

Fang released Vane and passed the one who’d spoken a sneer that said he not only hated the other wolf, but that he thought he was an idiot. “Was I wolf or human?”

“Human.”

“Then I wasn’t asleep, was I, Scooby?”

She arched her brow at the insult. Wolves didn’t like to be compared to dogs and to refer to them as a cartoon dog known for his lack-witted antics usually resulted in a fight.

The fact the blond wolf didn’t attack over it corroborated Fang’s ferocity in a way nothing else did.

Fang shifted his weight and pulled his sunglasses off as if trying to be respectful of Aimee’s presence—something that seemed incongruous to her and yet . . . these wolves were nothing like what she expected.

And his eyes . . .

They were a gorgeous brown with a hint of rust in them. Yet it was the pain and intelligence inside them that reached out to her. A pain that seemed boundless.

Yawning, Fang scratched at the thick whiskers on his face. “Though it wasn’t for lack of trying.”

The youngest wolf-pup came up to her. “Let me help you with that.”

“I’ve got it,” she said gently, surprised by how well mannered these wolves were. The ones she’d run into in the past had been from the lowest rung of the evolutionary scale.

As soon as the tray was down, they all took their drinks without waiting for her to hand them out.

Vane took her towel and wiped the tray dry before he held it out to her.

Aimee smiled at him. “Thank you.” It was actually disconcerting to see wolves who appeared this rough having manners. She wasn’t sure how to deal with them.

As she started away, the one named Fang stopped her with a gentle touch. “You dropped this.” He bent down to pick up her pad that must have fallen out of her apron pocket.

As he stood up, she became aware of exactly how large a man he was. Not beefy like the bears she was used to, he was lean.

And he was ripped. Solid like taut steel.

“Thanks.”

Fang couldn’t speak as he looked into the clearest pale blue eyes he’d ever seen. They were set into the face of a blond angel. One who had just the smallest hint of a dimple in her right cheek when she spoke.

Her skin looked softer than velvet, and for some reason he couldn’t name, he wanted to lay the backs of his fingers against her cheek to see if it was as soft as it appeared.

And her smell . . . it was lavender and lilac. Normally the scent of another species was repugnant to his wolf’s heightened senses. But not hers. She smelled warm and sweet. So sweet that it was all he could do not to rub his face in the crook of her neck to experience more of it.

When her hand brushed his, his body erupted with heat.

Without a word, she put the pad in her pocket and turned away.

Fang had to catch himself to keep from following after her.

Vane handed him his beer, interrupting his attention. When he looked back, the female bear was gone.

“You okay?”

Fang nodded at Vane’s question. “Just tired.”

The moment he started to sit down, the bearswan was back. They all shot to their feet—something that was ingrained in them. Wolves protected their women stronger than any other Were-Hunter kind. Loyal and deadly, they were trained from birth to show respect to females, regardless of species. The fact that this bear was related to the ones who owned the bar made her even more honored.

The bearswan pulled her pad back out. “My name’s Aimee. I forgot to take your orders.”

Aimee . . . it was a beautiful, soft name and perfect for her. Even though he didn’t repeat it out loud, he knew it would roll off his tongue like fine whisky.

“Steak,” Vane said. “Rare as possible.”

She jotted it down. “I assume you each want a couple?”

Liam adjusted his chair. “Yes. Please.”

Aimee nodded and she bit back a smile over the most favored request of their Katagaria clientele. All animals loved their meat that was only barely warmed by their human cooks who couldn’t quite figure out why they had so many orders for it. “All right, two dozen house specials. Any chance one of you might want to live dangerously and try a vegetable?”

“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.

They were loud. Obnoxious. Smelly and always looking for trouble.

Yet there was something about this one that was compelling. And the fact that he thought of his sister . . .

At least he had a heart. That alone put him miles ahead of the others of his kind.

As she left them again, she couldn’t resist looking back. Now he was smacking at Fury while Vane was separating them like a parent with two young sons.

Aimee shook her head.

That right there was why she didn’t care for wolves. Something about canines, they were always nipping and sniping at each other and anyone dumb enough to come near them.

As she headed for the kitchen to hand her orders over, a boisterous group coming down the stairs made her pause. She cursed inwardly at the sight.

Jackals. Two females and four males. They must have teleported into the top floor that was reserved for that sort of activity—it was an area shielded from humans so that they’d never suspect what Sanctuary really was. To them it was just a club.

To Were-Hunters, it was neutral ground where none could be harmed.

And if there was anything she hated more than wolves, it was those canine cousins—the jackals. If being a jackal wasn’t bad enough already, these were also Arcadian Sentinels and by the look of them they were on the hunt for someone.

Sighing heavily, she glanced back at the Katagaria wolves, wondering how they’d react to the Arcadian jackal presence.

The last thing they needed was for a vicious fight to break out between a clan of Sentinels and a pack of Strati, especially Strati with young to protect. That made them even edgier and more violent than normal.

She started back to the bar, but her path was cut off as one of the jackals teleported in front of her. He raked her with a sneer of disgust.

Aimee narrowed her gaze on him. “You can’t use your magick in here. There are too many humans to see it.”

He smirked. “I don’t take orders from animals. Now tell me where Constantine is or we’re going to tear this bar down.”

Aimee refused to be bullied by anyone. “We are protected by the laws of the Omegrion, which you’re obligated to follow. All are welcome, even your putrid selves, and none can be removed by force.”

He grabbed her arm. “Fetch Constantine, or I’ll make boots out of your hide, bear.”

Aimee twisted her arm out of his grip. “Don’t touch me, or I’ll mount your jewels to the wall over your head.”

The jackals surrounded her. “We don’t have time for this. He’s here. We can smell it.”

Aimee raked him with a sneer of her own. “You need to get your head out of your sphincter and stop smelling your own underwear ’cause the only jackals here, buddy, are you.”

“Is there a problem?” For once she was grateful to hear Dev’s deep growl.

Aimee looked past the leader’s shoulder to see Dev with Colt, Remi, and Wren. Papa was making his way toward them too. “Yes. And I think it’s time for our friends here to find an exit.”

Dev reached for the leader who spun on him so fast, she barely saw him move. With one fluid move, he had Dev flat on his back on the floor. Dev reached up and froze as the jackal held a Taser at the ready.

It wasn’t the pain of a possible hit that gave them pause. One jolt and they’d lose control of their human forms for hours. For that matter, any hit of electricity would have them flashing from human to animal and back again.

Something that was hard to explain to human clientele who tended to get a little wigged-out whenever they saw it.

Aimee looked around at the number of humans in the room. They needed to dispel this as peacefully as possible.

And quick.

The leader looked past her and gave a subtle nod.

All of a sudden, the man behind her grabbed her hard and held a knife to her throat.

The leader’s gaze glittered like ice. “Now take us to Constantine or I’ll have your head.”

Aimee passed a scared look to Dev who knew what she did.

They couldn’t give them what they didn’t have.

This was about to get bloody and she was going to be the one they drew first blood on.

Date: 2015-02-28; view: 662