Sherrilyn Kenyon: Bad Moon Rising

He bent down to take one last breath in her hair so that her scent would give him strength and carry him to his grave. “I love you,” he whispered, then he made himself leave.

F ang!” Aimee gasped, feeling desolate without him. How would she be able to live knowing he was really gone?

At least in the past there was always the chance that he’d come to his senses and be here.

But now…

He was going to die and there was nothing she could do.

Go get him!

The urge was so strong. If only she could. But Fang would never forgive her for that. How could he? She knew the pain of living without her brothers. The unrelenting agony of knowing she’d been the reason they had been caught and killed. They had protected her and given their lives so that she could live.

She couldn’t wish that pain on Fang.

No, it would be Vane who would suffer, knowing that his happiness had been bought in blood. Fang’s blood.

Besides, Savitar had issued his orders. If Fang didn’t surrender, Savitar would hunt him down. He would die anyway.

Heartbroken, Aimee dressed herself and sat on the bed, trying to use her powers to see him.

Savitar wouldn’t even allow her that much comfort.

F ang materialized in Savitar’s opulent hall where the Omegrion council met.

Completely empty, the room had windows that were open and looking out onto a beautiful sea. Fang closed his eyes as the soft wind brushed his skin and ruffled his hair. The salt in the air was as sweet as the birds that sang outside.

It was a beautiful day to die.

He slid Aimee’s locket into his pocket at the same time he felt the fissure of power rippling behind him.

“So you came alone.” Savitar appeared in front of him, dressed in a black wet suit. His hair was plastered back from his face and still dripping wet.

“Was I not supposed to?”

Savitar snorted as he wiped some of the droplets off his face. “I didn’t know if you’d have it in you or not.”

“Guess I’m full of surprises.”

He didn’t appear to appreciate Fang’s sarcasm. “You know the charges against you?”

“I was told murder.”

“Fourteen counts. How do you plead?”

Fang shrugged with a nonchalance he most definitely didn’t feel. “I suppose most people go down on their hands and knees.”

Savitar laughed, then sobered. “But not you.”

“Nope. Never.” He narrowed his gaze on Savitar. “Honestly, I have no memory of murdering anyone, but if I did it, I’m here for my punishment.”

Savitar rubbed his chin with his thumb. “You never flinch, do you?”

“It’s not in me. But I expect you to abide by your word and spare my family.”

“You’ve nothing to say on your own behalf?”

“Not really.”

“Then prepare to die.”

Fang sat in a small cell, waiting to die. He’d assumed Savitar would splinter him on sight, but that apparently was too easy a punishment.

Instead the bastard was making him suffer even more by dreading it. Not that the dread was what tormented him the worst.

It was regret. Those wounds were the ones that tore through him like shards of glass. He wished so many things were different that at this point death would probably be a relief.

He just wished he could see Aimee one more time. Conjuring up an image of her smile, he reached in his pocket to touch her necklace. It wasn’t as good as touching her, but it comforted him on a level he’d never experienced before. Even though she wasn’t here, he felt her like a tangible angel.

Damn if the words engraved in her locket weren’t right. She was in his heart and the knowledge of her out there, thinking of him, being a part of him, made him feel less lonely.

Alone in a tiny spartan cell with only a toilet, he sat on the hard bench with his elbows on his knees. He could hear the sea outside along with gulls squawking. But it was Aimee’s face he saw and it would be her scent that he carried with him to the next existence.

“You ready?”

He looked up to see Savitar in a pair of green cargo pants and an open white shirt. The man’s face was completely stoic.

Not that Fang expected sympathy from anyone.

“Yeah.”

The clear door slid up as Fang rose to his feet. Savitar led him to the sparkling white beach outside and to what looked like an old-fashioned block. It would be almost quaint if he wasn’t going there to die. There was even an executioner standing behind it. Dressed in spiked black armor and wearing a helm in the shape of a ghoul’s face, he held an oversized sword. He was so still, he looked like a statue.

Fang was both impressed and repulsed by the elaborate display. “You’re not just going to blast me into oblivion?”

Savitar shook his head. “Too humane for the crimes you’ve committed.” He raked a suspicious look over Fang. “You gonna turn chicken and jump out and make me chase you?”

“No. I don’t want you going after my family.”

“Smart wolf. It sucks to have your family pay for your crimes. Take it from someone with firsthand experience.” Savitar gestured toward the black stone block that was stained in places by dried blood.

The largest splatter of it was right where Fang needed to put his head.

His stomach churned at the knowledge that soon his own blood would be added to it. And it brought home exactly what was about to happen to him.

He was here to die…

Honestly, he wanted to run. Anything to have one more day…

But he wasn’t about to show his fear to anyone, especially not to the one who was going to kill him. Instead, he reverted to the sarcasm that had seen him through the darkest moments of his life.

It was only fitting it should now see him through his death. “You know, you could wash that nasty thing off between uses.”

Savitar shrugged nonchalantly. “Why bother? It’s not like you’re going to catch an infection the last three minutes you’re alive.”

“Guess not.” Fang sank down on his knees in the sand and glanced away from the dried blood. He looked around the beach and the dark green sea whose waves came rushing up, not too far from him, and realized just how long it’d been since he’d really seen the beauty that existed in the world. How many times he’d taken the sun for granted. Instead, he’d spent his life focusing only on the negatives.

But as he was about to die, he realized the world really was incredible.

“Changing your mind?”

“No.” He pulled Aimee’s locket out from his pocket, which reminded him exactly why he had to do this. “Can I make one last request?”

“For you to go free?”

He shook his head and held the locket out to Savitar. “Would you make sure that’s returned to Aimee Peltier?” He reluctantly let go of it.

Why did it feel like he was giving up a limb?

Maybe because she was his heart…

Savitar took it from him and opened it up to look at the photo of her and her brothers. That picture had seen him through hell and he didn’t need to look at it anymore. It was as engraved in his soul as her smile, touch, and smell.

He held it out to Fang. “Something you want to tell me about you and the bearswan?”

For the first time, Fang saw that Aimee had added a picture of him to her locket that covered the engraved words, and that almost succeeded in breaking him. Hell, he’d forgotten about it even being made. It was one Aimee had shot of him behind Sanctuary one afternoon when he’d been taking a break. She’d come out of nowhere to surprise him and snap the photo.

“Look!” she’d said, laughing, as she showed him the photo on the back of her camera. “I love when you look at me like that. I can see your heart in your eyes.”