“Ava?” Her ex-captor’s commanding voice reached her even over the blare of the sirens.

“I’ve got it. You stay near me. I stay near you.” She repeated his proposed plan as if by rote. “I keep you from the droids. You keep me from the inmates. We get the extra ore we need while we fulfill our quota and then we get out, with Hollisworth none the wiser.”

It all sounded so easy, as long as she didn’t think too hard about the fact that she was returning to her husband. Along with a sea of fellow inmates, all summoned to work as well. And no idea of what her husband himself was plotting.

Not that it mattered.

The trackers inside them made ignoring the summons impossible.

Plus, that was where the ore was.

If she wanted it, the mines were where she had to go.

“If we can make it through the summons and get the ore we need,” she continued, “we can melt it down and use it to neutralize the tracker. It will be the first and last time I ever have to answer the summons.”

As she spoke, she scanned the jagged corridor, assessing every crack she passed, especially since Valdus had warned her his crew might well pop out from one as they joined up en route to the mines.

She didn’t want to be taken unaware—or that’s what she told herself.

The truth was, even with their new plan established, she’d been having trouble looking at her new partner ever since she’d ignored his proffered hand and pushed to standing, her thighs slick and sticky from his cum, her dazed mind trying to process the wild creature she became in his arms, unable to decide if she should be proud or horrified, or both.

“That’s right.” Valdus’s voice was gruff. “You’ve got the plan down to a T. But I wasn’t asking about that. I have every faith you know it. I was wondering how you were handling the burn? It looks like it’s bothering you.”

“Oh.” She looked down to discover she was rubbing her thigh. “It’s fine.” In truth, it burned a lot. But since he’d explained it was a symptom of the summoning—Hollisworth’s way of ensuring the inmates reported to the mines and did everything possible to meet their quota before the burn grew excruciating and the tracker self-destructed—she’d been trying to ignore it. Just like everything else she wasn’t sure how to handle.

“And how are you feeling otherwise? The heat—”

“Is gone.” Warmth flared across her cheeks.

“Okay.” A long pause. “Good.”

She studied the cracks and crevices even more carefully.

“Here.” A heavy weight pressed into her hand. “For the mines.”

She looked down.

Shock slammed through her.

Valdus had dropped a pickax handle into her palm.

“If you try and use it on me or my men, you’ll regret it. Ryker is too fast and mean for you to even get close.”

She curled her fingers round the handle, testing the weight, hope washing through her even as the blare of the siren grew louder.

“I won’t,” she said, her voice surprisingly steady. Regret it, that is. I won’t regret it. If she had to use it, she’d make it count.

He nodded, but she could see the doubt. The suspicion. It made her feel better about her own lingering lack of trust.

Until he wrapped his free hand around hers so that they were both holding the weapon, the heat of his skin warming hers. “No one there is going to hurt you. Not my men. Not any of the inmates. Not while I’m alive.”

Another swell of confusion and bittersweet longing rolled through her.

No one had ever protected her before him. No one had ever told her it was going to be okay. No one had ever considered the heat from her perspective and sought to make it easier on her.

Like the wounded, starved-for-warmth creature she was, there was a part of her that wanted to soak it up. Wanted to accept his caring as genuine, his promise as truth. Wanted to pretend that, for once, she might not be entirely alone with whatever darkness lay beyond the next bend.

But that was beyond delusional.

He might fuck like something from her wildest dreams, but it didn’t mean his caring extended beyond the length of their rutting—or her use to him.

It would still be up to her to protect herself. To save herself. To free herself.

Theirs was only a temporary partnership. A mutual use-fest. Just like the sex.

“Ava?” The shock of two strong hands wrapping round her arms jerked her from her thoughts.

He’d stepped in front of her without her realizing. “I know you’re not used to non-Council ways,” his voice had deepened once more to that husky rasp, “and I don’t pretend to be an expert, but what we did before is usually followed by sweet words, even cuddling.”

“Cuddling?”

“I’ll show you next time.” His mouth claimed hers without warning. Hard and fast. His taste bleeding into her veins and cutting her with every slide of his tongue, burrowing into her soul and raking across her skin, changing her, tarnishing her, saving her. And leaving her breathless for more.

But as quick as it had started, it was over.

Silence pulsed between them. Heavy. Expectant. Charged by a thousand wrong impulses. Ones that could never be.

She looked away. Gripped her new weapon tighter.

“I know I pushed you hard back there…said some things maybe I shouldn’t...but, heat or no heat, I…enjoyed what happened between us and I’m grateful, too, for the way you saved my life and those of my men—more grateful than I could ever express.” He drew in a long breath. “I know you’re scared of what’s coming, but I am one hundred percent sure that if we work together we can make it out of this place.”

Her throat was too full to do anything but nod.

“I can't let down my men,” he continued. “But I swear I’ll do whatever it takes to ensure you make it topside safely. That Hollisworth never has the chance to touch you.” A growl shuddered through him. “I vow it on my life.”

This sounded different than the deal. This sounded like a vow. Freely given.

Her confusion grew.

Anger, hate, brutality—she knew how to handle. She knew how to plot and scheme and lie to evade and escape. But how was she supposed to react to someone like him?

Shoving her wild tangle of emotions aside, she hefted her new weapon higher. “Lead on to the mines. I’m ready.”

“No, you’re not.” Jaw tight, as if he knew something she didn’t, her ex-captor slid his largest pickax from his holster and mimicked her hold. “No one is. But we do it anyway.”