“There has to be something,” he muttered, voice edged with desperation. “Some way out.”
Newt watched him, heart breaking at the sight of his mate coming apart at the seams. Vaughn’s hands shook violently now, his breathing ragged and uneven. Being back in this place was destroying him piece by piece.
“Vaughn,” Newt called softly. “Look at me.”
His mate paused his frantic search, turning to meet Newt’s gaze. The raw fear in his eyes made Newt’s chest ache.
“Whatever happens,” Newt said, forcing steadiness into his voice, “this isn’t your fault. I need you to know that.”
A muscle jumped in Vaughn’s jaw. “I’m getting you out of here.”
“I know you’ll try,” Newt said, offering a smile that felt fragile on his lips. “But if you can’t—”
“Don’t,” Vaughn growled, returning to the restraints. “Don’t you dare say goodbye.”
From somewhere beyond the dungeon walls came a sound—footsteps, slow and deliberate, growing closer. The sound of someone who knew they had all the time in the world because their prey wasn’t going anywhere.
Vaughn froze, face draining of color. His eyes darted to the door then back to Newt. Pure terror flashed across his features, there and gone in an instant, replaced by grim determination.
“He’s coming,” Vaughn whispered, fear and rage warring in his expression.
Newt’s heart slammed against his ribs. No. Not yet. They needed more time.
Vaughn grabbed a knife from the table, positioning himself between Newt and the doorway. His stance shifted, becoming more predatory, more wolf than man despite remaining in human form.
“Whatever happens,” Vaughn said over his shoulder, eyes never leaving the doorway, “don’t let him see your fear. That’s what he feeds on.”
Easy for Vaughn to say. Fear was currently Newt’s primary emotion, with panic running a close second. But he swallowed hard, trying to master some control for Vaughn’s sake.
The footsteps grew louder. Closer.
“I’m a virgin!” Newt blurted out, the words escaping before he could stop them. “That’s why I stopped you earlier, but if we’re about to die, I wanted you to know.”
Vaughn’s brows rose, but he didn’t turn around. His knuckles whitened around the handle of the knife.
“We’re not going to die,” he said with quiet conviction. “Not today.”
The footsteps stopped just outside the doorway. Newt held his breath, heart pounding so hard he was sure it could be heard echoing off the stone walls.
Vaughn raised the knife higher, a silent promise of violence.
And waited.
* * * *
Virgin. The word Newt had blurted out echoed in Vaughn’s mind. A confession made in what his mate thought might be their final moments. It explained so much—the hesitation this morning, the sudden stop when things were heating up. Not rejection. Inexperience.
They were definitely having that conversation when they got out of this. Because they would get out. Vaughn refused to accept any other outcome.
As soon as the door swung open, Vaughn lunged forward. His knife found its mark, sinking deep into Vex’s thigh with a sickening resistance that traveled up Vaughn’s arm. The blade slid between muscle and sinew, catching on something solid before burying itself to the hilt.
A shriek tore from the demon’s throat, high and inhuman. Before Vaughn could wrench the knife free, pain exploded across his face. Vex’s backhand connected with his jaw, a blow so powerful it launched him across the room.
Stars exploded across Vaughn’s vision, bright pinpricks of light swimming in a sea of darkness. The coppery taste of blood filled his mouth as his body crashed against the far wall. Pain radiated through his skull, but he’d endured worse at these same hands. Much worse.
“Still fighting, little wolf?” Vex’s voice cut through the ringing in Vaughn’s ears. “I told you we would meet again.”
Memories threatened to paralyze him—the cattle prod, the knife slicing into his flesh, that voice whispering terrible things into his ear. But Newt was here. His mate needed him.
