Despite his immense agony, a smile started at her annoyed tone. But his fangs piercing his lip reminded him of the precariousness of his situation. He found the notch on the wall and thumped it. The barrier creaked and then slid open, revealing steps leading down into the dark basement.
“Lean on me.” Ely put her arm around him once more.
Hell, useless to protest when Ely did as she pleased like a force of nature. Nate grabbed the railing, trying to keep his weight off her as they made their way down the stairs.
In what seemed like hours later, they hit the cement floor in the pitch-black basement. A musty air of disuse clung to the place, along with a bone-chilling cold.
“Where’s the light?”
He willed on the naked bulb dangling from the high ceiling. Dim light cast a pool of yellow in the middle of the floor.
She glanced around, taking in the massive granite basement and the cell—large enough to imprison a horde of giant demons—fronted by unbreakable bars fixed into the high ceiling and floor.
“You can’t sleep there!” her voice jerked him back, her horrified gaze settling on the pallet in the corner of the chamber.
“I’ll be fine.” He tugged at his coat. Each pull had a fresh rush of pain gutting him and she ground down on his molars—
And then she was there, carefully peeling off his outwear. His gaze fixed on her beautiful face. He’d taunted her about finding another, yet everything within him wanted to find the nameless, faceless fucker and put him six feet under. Shit, this possessiveness was perilous for them both.
She would never survive him when the blood rage started and the beast took over.
Before he did something stupid and gave in to the urge to claim her in the way he truly wanted and pull her deeper into his fucked-up life, he staggered into his cell.
“Nate…” She dropped his coat and hurried after him. Her gaze lowered to his chest. Her eyes widened. Hell, hard to miss the fist-sized hole through his t-shirt or the plasma drenching the cotton. “You were hit by a demon bolt?” she breathed. “And you didn’t say a word?”
“Why?” He leaned against the wall, his legs unable to support him any longer.
Mouth pressed in a thin line, she reached for his shirt. He grasped her hands and shook his head.
“If you want to fight me on this, go ahead,” she said coolly, shrugging off his hold.
The air shifted, and a glittering ebony dagger formed in her palm. With a frustrated growl, Nate dropped his hands. He was in too much agony to argue, his gray matter no longer computing.
Her lush lips still pressed together in displeasure, she carefully slit his t-shirt down the center.
Her breath caught in an audible gasp, her dagger clattering to the floor. She clutched the edges of his sliced tee.
Nate glanced at the fist-sized, open wound on his inked chest, the edges of his skin seared black as blood seeped down his abs. “Don’t despair,laika. It’s not the first time I’ve been wounded.” And wasn’t that the truth? “Doubtful this will be the last, though I try to avoid ones like these.”
This would be a slow, torturous healing and damn dangerous for her if she didn’t leave.
He pulled off his ruined shirt and held it against the wound, biting back a grimace as he gingerly lowered to the pallet. Head tipped back against the wall, he watched her through half-mast lids, struggling to block out the pain.
Her troubled gaze slid further down his torso. The color drained from her face, leaving her parchment pale, her gaze fixed on the older wound on his lower abs. The one she’d inflicted. It was still inflamed, the skin barely knitted.
“Why didn’t you use the potion and salve I gave you?” she demanded, crouching next to him.
“Aba needed them more. Those demons who broke into the garage hurt him with a hellfire bolt.”
“What?” She glared at him. “Nate, you coulddiefrom this—never mind! I’ll be back.” She dematerialized.
Alone, the dank walls closed in on him.
Hades, he missed her brightness…missed her.
Hell, Nate shut his eyes, feeling like a brakeless freight truck hurtling downhill with no way of stopping, all too aware of the cataclysmic collision looming if he ever gave in to his need to claim her.
The malevolent wyvern paced within him, sensing freedom, its talons scraping his mind. Nate hung onto his shaky mental shields. But just in case, he mentally shut and bolted the cage door. He reached underneath the pallet for the loose granite square, moved it aside, and got out the med-kit. Sweat dripped down his face, his bones stretching, hurting.
