A tic started in Vane's cheek. "It was a timoria. We were left for dead and then attacked by Daimons."
After entering the room, Ash knelt beside the bed to examine Fang's body. He put one large hand on Fang's neck, then he pulled back his eyelids.
Aimee exchanged looks with Vane. "Carson says he's in shock from the attack."
"He says he's dying," Vane added.
Ash dropped his hand and looked up at them. "This is strange. It's like he's already dead."
"Don't say that!"
Ash ducked as Vane would have hit him. "You can attack me all you want to, but it changes nothing."
Aimee put her hand on Vane's arm, trying to comfort him. "Have you ever seen anything like this?" she asked Ash.
"Not in eleven thousand years and I don't get it either. Daimons can feed from humans and Were-Hunters without causing harm. Yet this . . ."
Aimee swallowed. "It's like they took his soul."
"No," Vane said with a sigh. "They took more than that. It's Anya. He can't stand letting her go." He moved back to sit beside Fang. "I don't think he's able to handle the grief of living without her."
Aimee motioned Ash out of the room.
In the hallway, she closed the door tight behind her and hoped Vane wasn't listening. "Do you think it's that simple?"
He shook his head.
"Me either."
Ash glanced back at the door as if he could see inside the room. "Let me check with Savitar. I'm with you. I think there's more going on here than the obvious."
"Thanks."
He inclined his head before he left her alone. Aimee made her way back to her room where she finished getting ready for bed.
The dawn was just breaking when she finally drifted off.
"Aimee?"
"Fang?" Her dreams shifted until she saw him engulfed in a dark mist. He looked tired and pale, but whole. He was dressed only in a pair of bloodied jeans and his bare feet were marked with cuts and bruises.
Running toward him, she tried to reach out only to have him drift away. "Fang!" she called.
"Shhh," he breathed, his voice echoing in the darkness.
"Where are you?"
"I don't know. A cave."
She started forward until he grabbed her and shoved her back against a craggy wall.
"Don't move." His tone was a scarce whisper.
Aimee trembled at his nearness. She'd forgotten just how tall and formidable he was in his human form. But he smelled delectable and looked even better. With a week's growth of whiskers, he had a rugged appearance that only added to his raw sexual appeal.
Wrapping her arms around him, she held him close, reveling in the hardness of his body. Reveling in the fact that he was with her and not dead.
He balled his fist in her hair and buried his face in her neck as if she were a lifeline he clung to. No one had ever held her with such fierce tenderness. Gods, how good he felt and how much she wanted to stay right here with him.