Page 43 of The Fallen Fae King

Isis nods. “Your life, for hers. Then I swear on my blood that your wishes will be honored.”

I clutch my hands on my lap.

This should be easy.

It is.

The voices have quietened in my head now.

There is a simplicity in dying that there never has been in living.

When I turn my head, unable to resist studying the beautiful, freckled face and flame-hair of my Omega for one final time, I wish that she could see me for one final time too.

Except, I don’t want her to watch me die. I have witnessed too much death, and I would save her soul from that stain.

“Give me a dagger then,” I snarl.

If I must do this, then I will do it quickly.

Isis shakes her head; the bitch is enjoying this. “How did you kill my son? I saw the body. You tore out his throat with your teeth and your claws. You’re a beast. Kill yourself like one.”

I am not a beast.

I am a King.

Yet I would do anything for my Omega.

I raise my claws, extending them to my throat. I prick my skin, and crimson blood beads, trickling down.

I swallow.

It is harder than I thought to sink my own claws into my throat.

How deep will I need to go to kill myself?

I glance at the crocodile. Her golden eyes sadly meet mine.

Finish the job, I command, if I can’t.

Will Lazarus be waiting for me?

If I die like this, for my Omega, despite everything wicked that I have done in my life, is there any chance that I will be joined with him after death?

I let my eyes drift closed.

I grit my teeth in pain, as my claws sink deeply into my neck.

Blood drips onto the marble.

Drip, drip, drip.

Unexpectedly, there is a sudden explosive frenzy of harsh caws. Then the violent thunder of wings.

My eyes snap open.

Above me, it is like a living shadow breaking apart.

I pull my claws away from my bleeding neck.