"I hate you, Thorn."
He shrugged nonchalantly. "All creatures do and I really don't care. By the way, your girlfriend is on her way back here to you. Try not to eat her even though the bloodlust is going to be hard to resist. You'll most likely regret it if you do." Then he was gone.
Fang slid down the wall, trying to get his stomach and nerves to settle. But it was hard. He still felt like he was being torn inside out.
Gods, what am I going to do?
Aimee appeared by his side a few minutes later as he leaned back with his head against the wall and his eyes closed.
"Fang?" Her hand was cool as she touched his forehead. "You're burning up."
His only response was to hold her hand against his cheek as the soft lavender scent of her wrist soothed him. But Thorn had been right, he could smell the blood in her veins and he wanted to rip her wrist open to taste it.
"Can you take me home?" he breathed, afraid to try his own powers right now.
"Absolutely." She helped him to stand and it was only then that he realized the demon had disintegrated. There was nothing left except a vague black outline. Would that happen to him too if he died now?
Damn you, Thorn, for not telling me everything.
Aimee flashed them back to Fang's bed and then helped him to lie down. "I'm going to get Carson."
He grabbed her hand and held her by his side. "Don't. There's nothing he can do."
"But, Fang-"
"Aimee, trust me. I just need to rest alone for a little bit, okay?"
He could see the debate in her eyes as he tightened his grip on her hand.
After a few seconds, she nodded. "You need me at all. . . ."
"I will call you. I promise."
She patted his hand before she removed it. "All right. Rest well."
Fang didn't relax until she was out of the room. Only then did he lay back and give in to the conflicting emotions that lacerated him. He wanted to kill something.
Anything.
But he knew he couldn't.
The only thing was, he didn't know how long he'd be able to hold the demon in him at bay. By the feel of it, he was going to turn Slayer. True Slayer.
And that, in their world, carried a death sentence.
Fang lay in his bed as a wolf, his mind trapped by the demon powers that were warring inside him as they converted his body even more. He was only vaguely aware of the sounds of the outside world.
He now saw things in infrared while he slept. Every tiny insect in his room. Every creature that walked past his room in the hallway. He was aware of everything on a level he'd never imagined, but unable to respond. He was like an outside viewer who couldn't break through the glass case no matter how hard he struck it.
"Fang?"
Vane. He'd know that deep baritone anywhere. But in Fang's mind Vane was nothing more than a reddish outline standing beside his bed. There was a woman with him. One who smelled sweet and all human. She stood so close to Vane that she appeared tucked in there.
Fang tried to reach out to his brother, but couldn't. It was almost like he was back in the Nether Realm where only voices could reach him. Only now he couldn't understand the words his brother was saying to him. They were jumbled and malformed as he and the woman said things.
Hanging his head, Fang sighed wearily.
"Aw, what's wrong, little wolfie? Can't you get up?"