The Dark-Hunters, page 555
She took his hand into hers so that she could nibble the pad of his fingers. He hardened instantly.
Fang looked up at her, his breathing turning ragged. “Are you sure?”
She nipped at his knuckle as she released his hand. “Don’t be silly. I’ve been waiting for years for this moment.”
His eyes turned dark, sincere. “I’ve been waiting a lifetime for you.”
Those words touched her. She held her marked hand up. Fang placed his palm to hers, their marks joined as he laced his fingers with her so that they could complete their mating ritual. She was so nervous, and she wasn’t even sure why. It wasn’t like they’d never had sex before and yet …
This would bind them forever. She would belong to him and he would be hers exclusively. It was a major responsibility to be a part of someone else’s world.
But she would have it no other way.
Their gazes locked, Aimee lifted herself up and set herself down on top of him.
Fang bit his lip as her body closed around his. He wanted to thrust against her, but it wasn’t part of the ritual. This was her time. She would set the pace and she would dictate what they did.
And when she started moving against him, the wolf inside wanted to howl in pleasure. With their marked hands locked, he ran his free hand down her back as she moved in short, torturous strokes.
She brushed her hand against the mark Thorn had placed on his shoulder. He would still have to fight demons for him from time to time, but Varyk had explained to him how his life was basically his own.
Then again, as he looked into Aimee’s eyes, he realized his life would never again belong to him alone. Aimee was his life now.
She tightened her grip on his marked hand. “I accept you as you are, and I will always hold you close in my heart. I will walk beside you forever.”
Fang smiled as she whispered the words that bound them together in a ceremony that went back to a time before recorded history. He repeated them back to her and then added one more statement. “I would gladly give my life for you, Aimee.”
“You are my life, wolf, so you better take damn good care of yours.”
He started to answer that with a quip, but the thirio came upon him so suddenly that he couldn’t do anything except hiss as he felt his cock harden even more. Pain exploded in his mouth as his teeth elongated to sharp fangs and a raw bloodlust came over him that made a mockery of the one he’d known when Phrixis had lived inside him.
The thirio was the urge to bond their life forces together and to make them one for all eternity.
In life and in death. It was what her parents had shared. What Anya had had with her mate and what his brothers had done with their mates.
Once put in place, it was unbreakable by any other than Savitar.
Fang ground his teeth to keep from biting her.
Aimee cupped his face in her hand as she stared down at him. “Let’s finish this, Fang.”
Searing joy tore through him, but he didn’t want to take this step lightly. “Are you sure?”
She gave him an unamused smirk. “I have been through hell for you … twice. Do you really think I want to be in this life without you?”
Those words touched him deep. Fang sat up underneath her, pulled her close, then sank his teeth into her skin.
Aimee let out a small cry of dismay as her own teeth elongated. She felt her powers soaring as their blood was mingled. Brushing his hair back from his shoulder, she bit him.
The room around her swam as every sense she had sharpened and burned. In that one instant, she could feel Fang’s heartbeat as if it were her own. The two of them were truly united.
Forever.
They would never again have to live without each other. It was the greatest gift.
And the ultimate curse.
But she would have it no other way.
Locked together, they came in unison. Aimee pressed her cheek to Fang’s as he held her close and she listened to his heartbeat slowing.
“I swore I would never bond to anyone,” Fang whispered in her ear. “I thought only fools did this.”
“And now?”
His dark gaze locked with hers. “I’m the happiest fool on the planet.”
She kissed him then and couldn’t agree more. She too was the happiest fool on the planet.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
BAD MOON RISING
Copyright © 2009 by Sherrilyn Kenyon.
All rights reserved.
For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
ISBN: 978-0-312-93436-1
St. Martin’s Press hardcover edition / August 2009
St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition / April 2010
St. Martin’s Paperbacks are published by St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
eISBN 9781429983761
First eBook Edition: September 2012
eBooks may be purchased for business or promotional use. For information on bulk purchases, please contact Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department by writing to MacmillanSpecialMarkets@macmillan.com
NO MERCY
SHERRILYN KENYON
Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
Copyright
To my readers, who mean the world to me and who have given me countless hours of laughter and smiles online and at appearances. Thank you so much!
To my team at SMP, who works so hard to get the books out, and especially Monique, whose insights and support are the stuff of legends.
To my friends, who are always there when I need them, especially Kim and Dianna, who never shirk at the proofreading and brainstorming sessions.
And to my family, who never complain about eating a lot of pizza and who understand why Mom has to spend so much time locked in her room. Most of all to my hubby, without whom I could never do what I do, and who really is the wind beneath my wings.
God bless and keep all of you.
Prologue
The Legend of Sanctuary
You can take my life, but you’ll never break me.
So bring me your worst.…
And I will definitely give you mine.
Those words, written in French, still remained on the top of Nicolette Peltier’s desk where she’d carved them with her bear’s claw after the death of two of her sons. It wasn’t just a motto, it was her angry declaration to the world that had taken her sons from her. A ruthless tragedy that had spurred her on to create the most renowned of the shapeshifter havens.
Sanctuary.
For over a century, she’d owned the famed Sanctuary bar and restaurant that rested on the corner of Ursulines and Chartres in New Orleans. There she’d reigned as the queen of her kingdom. The mother bear of her remaining twelve cubs who struggled hard every day with the grief over the sons she’d buried.
Not a day had passed that she hadn’t mourned them.
Until the day war had come to their door. True to her nature and the words she’d carved as a permanent reminder of her spirit, she had done her worst and she’d protected her children with everything she had.
But that love for them had cost her her life. When her enemies moved to kill her daughter’s mate, she’d protected the lycanthrope with the last of her strength and she’d given her life to save her daughter Aimee the agony of burying the wolfwere she loved.
The tragedy of her loss was felt throughout the entire Were-Hunter council. Nicolette had been as much a legend as the club she’d owned. A club that had welcomed all creatures and promised them safety and protection so long as they obeyed her one simple rule:
Come in peace.
Or leave in pieces.
Since the night of her death, her cubs have sought to carry on without her support and guidance. No longer an official haven recognized by the Omegrion council, Sanctuary now stands outside the laws that had once shielded them and her patrons.
And that was fine with Dev Peltier. He’d never liked rules anyway.
But the war that had come to their door wasn’t over.
They had only fought the opening battle.…
Chapter One
“Is it just me or has the entire world gone stump stupid?”
Dev Peltier laughed as he heard his brother Remi’s voice in his ear while he stood outside the front door of the Sanctuary club his family owned. He and Remi were half of a set of identical quads … and that comment was so out of character for his surly brother that Dev had to shake his head. “Since when you channel Simi?” he asked into the headset he wore so much that it felt weird whenever he didn’t have it in his ear.
Remi snorted. “Yeah … like I’m a friggin’ Goth demon chick dressed in a corset, frilly skirt, and tights trying to eat my way through the menu … and staff.”
That was definitely Simi to a T.
But Dev couldn’t resist ribbing him. “I always knew you were a freak, mon frère. This just proves it. Maybe we should rename you Frank-N-Furter and throw little wienies at you whenever you walk past.”
“Shut up, Dev, before I come out there and make myself a triplet.”
As if. Remi had obviously forgotten who’d taught him how to fight. “Bring it, punk. I got a new pair of boots itching to head up someone’s—”
“Would you two stop fighting over the open channel?… And grow up while you’re at it. I swear I’m going to make bear stew out of both of you tonight if you don’t stop.” Aimee broke off into a round of French, their native language, so that she could continue insulting and emasculating them.
Dev bit back a smart-ass response to his sister’s hostile tone that was punctuated by several cheers of approval from the rest of the crew, whose headsets allowed them to overhear every word.
To be honest, he and his family didn’t need the headsets to communicate. Part of being shapeshifting bears was that they could project their thoughts so long as they were within a reasonable distance from each other—though some of them were better at that than others. But that tended to raise suspicion among the mundane humans who worked for them and especially the ones who patronized their business. So they wore the sets in an attempt to at least appear normal.
Yeah, right. Normality had waved bye-bye to his family and his species a long time ago. But what the hell?
He rocked the headset look.
Even so, Dev pulled it off his head as his sister’s ranting in French reminded him of his mother’s and an unexpected surge of grief tore through him. How he missed the sound of his mother bitching at him in French.…
Who would have ever thought? Of all the things to miss.
I must be sick in the head. And yet his mother’s sharp voice haunted him from the past.
You need to grow up, Devereaux.… You’re not a cub anymore. Haven’t been one in over two hundred years. Why you bait your brothers so and make me lose my mind? Mon Dieu! You are ever my bane when you misbehave. Just once, can’t you counsel your tongue and do as I ask? How can we rely on you if you insist on acting like a boy child? Did you learn nothing? Dev flinched as he saw her face in his mind while she read him his daily riot act.
It was a face he’d never see again and a voice that would one day all too soon fade completely from his memory.
How he hated change.
For over a hundred years, he’d taken his post at Sanctuary’s door, watching as all manner of beings came and went. A sentinel in more ways than one, he’d let the humans pass without stopping them. But to the preternatural patrons who came here, he always explained the rules of Sanctuary and interrogated them to determine how much of a threat they’d be if they attacked—as well as to determine who their allies were.
Just in case.
Now he stood post to make sure their enemies didn’t finish destroying the club they’d only just put back together from the fight that had scarred them all.
I miss you, Maman. He missed his father just as much.
Stuff they could replace. Boards could be nailed back in place and counters remade. Smoke damage repaired.
But his parents …
They were gone forever.
And that made him furious as more grief racked him. It’d taken all of his strength not to go after the lycanthrope pack that had attacked them. If not for the knowledge of it causing the Omegrion—the ruling council for the werebeasts—to hunt down his remaining family and kill them in retaliation, he wouldn’t have hesitated. But that he could never chance. He would not be responsible for the death of a single family member.
Not even his brother Remi.
He’d seen too many of his family killed in front of him.…
I really want to leave.
It was a thought that was becoming more and more appealing. Ever since they’d reopened Sanctuary after the battle and fire, he’d been struck hard with wanderlust. The only reason he’d stayed here as long as he had was that his mother had asked him to remain with the family and help protect his younger sister.
Now that his mother was dead and Aimee was mated …
Staying wasn’t as necessary as it’d been before. Every day he felt the pull to leave and make his own way in the world. He was a bear and it was the nature of most males to find a mate and start their own pack.
What am I doing here?
They didn’t really need him. When the battle had come to their door, they’d learned fast just how many allies they had. And that number had been impressive. Sanctuary would stand forever. He didn’t have to stay here to protect the door.
And yet …
I really hate change.
You’re just restless. You’ll get over it. You’ll see. Besides, he didn’t want a mate. Ever. Life was difficult enough trying to please himself. Gods help him if he ever had to try and please someone else.
It was just so much had happened over the last few months that it’d shaken his foundation. He felt lost … like his moorings had been sliced and he was left adrift without an engine or paddle. He’d never dealt well with change and so many changes had been thrust on him that he just wanted to leave it all behind and start fresh somewhere else.
Find someplace where he felt like he belonged again—even if he had to go to the past to do it. Someplace where he wasn’t looking for his parents to come around the corner or be sitting in their favorite seats. Where memories didn’t haunt him.
Or more to the point, hurt him.
The roaring sound of a racing bike broke through his melancholy thoughts as it approached from down the street. It was a ’Busa. He could tell by the throaty groan of the engine—they had a unique sound that was unmistakable to anyone who knew their bikes. Many of his Were-Hunter brethren used motorcycles as a means of transportation, including him and his brothers. Unlike a car, it was easier to teleport with their powers, and on the street, there was nothing faster that could maneuver out of the way of their enemies.
Or after them.
But this one growled with a specific tone that said she’d been modified for maximum speed and performance.
Expecting to see the Dark-Hunter leader Acheron on his black Hayabusa heading in, Dev frowned as a red one came up the street so fast, he was surprised it wasn’t leading a few squad cars. The driver went past the entrance, then slammed on the brakes, sliding the bike sideways and leaving a cloud of burned rubber in its wake. The front wheel popped up before it headed toward him. Just as it reached the curb, the front tire slammed down and the rider parked it right in front of him with a jerking bounce that caused the rear wheel to lift up.
Even though the rider was tall and stoutly built, Dev could tell by her shapely curves covered in protective leather that she was a woman.
Most likely a hot one, too, and that definitely got his attention.
Unwilling to show her he was impressed with her biker skills, Dev crossed his arms over his chest as she pulled her helmet off and set loose a cascade of unruly honey blond curls that fell just past her shoulders. Curls that framed an adorable face. Not stunning or perfect, but exotic. Different. Most of all, her features were beguiling and he couldn’t help wondering what she’d look like first thing in the morning with that riot of curls spilling all around her naked body.
She held an air of fierce joie de vivre and it was infectious—as if she savored every heartbeat she was lucky enough to have. However, she rode the bike like a person with a death wish. “You keep driving like that, you’re going to kill someone.”
She slung one long leg around the seat before she sauntered up to him with a hot, seductive stride he was sure had sent a few men to their graves from heart attacks. She wore a pair of flat New Rock biker boots with flames coming up the sides. Her dark brown, almond-shaped eyes glowed with mischief as she unzipped her jacket and gave him a heated once-over. “I only kill the ones who deserve it, and those I gut with relish.”
Damn, she was about as sexy as any woman he’d ever seen. His body reacted to her instantly. And it made him wonder if she’d be so open in the bedroom.
She shrugged her jacket off and slung it over her shoulder to hold it there with one gloved hand, showing him a tight black knit shirt before she leaned in closer to him. The warm scent of woman and leather made the bear inside him sit up and purr, and it was all he could do not to nuzzle that soft neck that seemed to invite him in for a taste.
