Page 26 of Bad Moon Rising (Dark-Hunter 17)
Yeah, but how could he find peace tonight? There was nothing except this sick lump in his stomach that made him want to vomit.
How he wished he could go back twenty-four hours and be oblivious to this future. . . .
Vane gently pushed him. "I have Anya. Go rest. If nothing else, turn wolf for a while."
Fang nodded glumly before he relinquished her over, even though all he wanted to do was hold on to her for as long as he could. But Vane was right. He needed some time in his true form.
And he needed to find some kind of comfort for himself. Something to numb the pain if only for one tiny nanosecond.
Aimee came awake with a start as pain sliced through her. It was the same sensation she had whenever Wren or one of her brothers was threatened.
Only this time, it was for Fang. She could sense him as if he were in the room right beside her.
And it was the same dread feeling in her chest. The same urgency to locate him immediately and make sure everything was all right.
What had happened?
Closing her eyes, she found him. He was lying on his stomach in his wolf's form. He didn't appear to be injured and yet something about him seemed to be broken. Hurt.
Before she even realized what she'd done, she materialized beside him . . . still in her nightgown.
"Fang?"
Fang froze at the soft sound of Aimee's voice. Opening his eyes, he saw her kneeling beside him. "What are you doing here?"
"I-I don't know. I just sensed that you needed someone."
Scowling, he wanted to tell her to leave. To get as far away from him as she could.
Until she placed one gentle hand on his neck.
Fang had always hated to be touched there. Not even Anya could stroke him while he was in his wolf's form. He couldn't stand it.
Yet Aimee's touch soothed him. She ran her hand through his fur, to his ear that she gently rubbed between two fingers. Before he could stop himself, he inched closer to her.
"What happened?"
He choked as he thought of Anya. "My sister's bond-mate died last night."
"Your sister who's burdened?"
He nodded.
"Oh, sweetie . . . I'm so sorry."
Sorry . . . that was a worthless word no doubt uttered out of habit. He hated for people to say that when they had no idea what it really meant. No idea of the pain that was burning deep inside him at a loss he would soon bear that no amount of comfort could alleviate or even dull. How could he go on without his sister here? "You have your family. You have no idea what-"
"That's not true," she said, tightening her grip on him. "I've lost two brothers and one of their mates. I know exactly how much it stings and how it aches. I know the anguish that no amount of time heals. There's not a day that goes by that I don't remember them and how they died. So don't take that tone with me, buster. I won't tolerate it."
Fang turned human and pulled her into his arms. "I'm sorry, Aimee. I didn't know."
Aimee tightened her grip on him as she bit back the tears she always felt whenever she remembered Bastien and Gilbert.
Worse, they'd died because of her. Because she'd shared her powers with them and shown them the location of their enemies. They'd gone after them to protect her. The guilt of it. The sorrow . . . there were times even now when it was more than she could bear.
Still, life went on, every aching agonized beat of it.
"It's okay," she whispered, but she didn't mean that. It was never okay to lose the ones you loved. Life was brutal, harsh, and cold. She knew that better than most.
Her mother's bipolar mood swings were proof of that. While Maman welcomed and protected anyone who was loyal to their house, she was just as quick to kill any she suspected of treachery-hence her unnatural hatred for Wren.
And she was so unforgiving. While Maman loved her, Aimee saw in her mother's eyes the blame that she still had for Aimee even though she'd only been a cub at the time of their deaths.
Aimee sighed. "As Wren so often says, sooner or later life victimizes us all."
"Wren?"
"The tigard you helped me to save. He has a terribly jaded view of most things, but in this I think he's right. We are victims."
Fang shook his head. "I refuse to be a victim. Ever . . . but I can't believe I'm going to lose her and that there's nothing I can do to stop it."
"At least you have time to say good-bye. My brothers were gone in an instant. There was no time for anything, not even grieving."
Fang paused as he realized how much she was comforting him. They were sharing their pain and . . .
What are you doing?
He was reaching out to her and he had no idea why. He didn't trust anyone, especially not strangers. He spurned comfort and always had.
Yet he didn't want to leave her. He wanted to stay like this for a while. To have her stroke him and soothe the pain inside his heart.
Aimee pulled back from his embrace to look at something on the ground. She bent forward and pulled up the scrap of fabric that Stefan had ripped off one of the attacking Arcadians. He'd carried it back for their inspection and Vane had brought it over to him earlier to look at. Unfortunately, the scent was so contaminated, it was worthless for them to even try and use it to track them down.
She frowned intently as she studied it.
He duplicated her scowl. "What is it?"
"I know this patch. It's from a tessera uniform."
His heart stopped beating. "What do you mean, you know this?"
Aimee closed her eyes to use her powers as images played through her head. She could see the wolves fighting, hear them snarling and tearing. See the Arcadians attacking them. But one face was clearer than the others.
It was a face she knew all too well.
"It's Stone's."
Fang tilted his head. "Stone? Why do I know that name?"
"He was the wolf you fought behind Sanctuary."
Fang's breath left him as if she'd hit him hard in the solar plexus. "What?"
"He was the wolf-"
"No." Fang shook his head in disbelief as those words shredded his soul. What had he done?
"Dear gods . . . I'm the one who killed my sister."
