The comfort of the bed, the company, made imprisonment far more pleasant than it should have been. And I couldn’t use any word aside from ‘pleasant’, as fucked up as that sounded. Maybe if I hadn’t been through this before, being locked up would be pure hell, but for two days, no one had touched me. I had sustenance, blankets, clean clothes, and Elah.

Elah’s healing was delayed, but he did heal. The cuts and bruises faded away. He moved slowly, still weak, but didn’t wince in pain. I watched him even as he laughed and smiled and somehow managed to keep the mood light.

His attitude confused the hell out of me. He was like a chameleon, adapting outwardly, and inwardly, to his surroundings.

I wished I knew how he did it, because at the moment, I was tempted to strangle him.

Laying on a blanket on the floor, his skin slick with sweat from the intense workout he’d just finished, he read one of the many books Cyrus had sent us. Every time the pages flipped, I ground my teeth a little harder. Sitting on the bed, dressed in the flannel leggings and dark blue t-shirt I’d slept in, I stared at him.

And started hating him for looking so fucking relaxed. He’d lost some weight with his blood so thin, the bulk of muscle not as impressive. My spare, black pajama pants were snug on him, but not as much as they’d have been once. The powerful hunter was somehow…less.

And for that, I hated him even more. He and Daederich had been my last chance to be free. Now I had neither.

“I can feel you watching me, Lydia. Is being pissed off helping at all?” Elah rose up on his elbow, holding the book open with the side of his steel-gloved hand. Fresh blood dripped onto the edge of the pages as he met my eyes. “You can’t find a better distraction?”

“Find a distraction? Is that what you’re doing?” I sucked my teeth as I shoved off the bed. Kicking him would feel damn good right now, but he was supposed to be an ally. So instead I paced the room. “You’re a hunter. You should be thinking of a plan. Exploring the weaknesses in our prison. Doing…something!”

“There are no weaknesses in our prison. I knew that within minutes of being locked in here. I have a dozen plans, but not a single one can be implemented at this point.” He shrugged and patted the book with his good hand. “I’m doing all I can to keep sane. I could pace like a caged dog, but what would that accomplish?”

I stopped pacing and raked my fingers into my hair. “I don’t know. But you’re driving me insane being all calm. Like you’ve just accepted that we’re trapped.”

“I haven’t. You know me better than that, Lydia.” Elah sighed, flipped the book, and sat up. “You’re young and you’re scared. I understand. When you’ve lived as long as I have you’ll see time very differently. Not every second needs to be filled to matter. When I was training, I spent days in a much smaller ‘cage’ than this. A space that I could barely move in. Without light or air—air that I still couldn’t accept I didn’t need. There was no way out. No limit on how long I would be there.”

I shivered, seeing the coffin I’d been in, filled with spiders and snakes and a promise that I’d be buried alive if I didn’t give in to the demands of two very fucked up monsters.

Monsters I’d helped kill.

Even without the things crawling on me, I would have been terrified. Done anything to get free.

Elah had suffered through that for training.

“How did you do it?” I sat on his blanket. The one he’d slept on for the past few days, even though I’d invited him into my bed. The distance he’d put between us seemed to be one of the many ways he retained his sanity.

And the fact that he knew exactly what he needed drove me mad. I didn’t have the first clue how to deal with this. Pain and torture and healing I could do. The last time Cyrus had me, I’d always had some idea of when things would get bad again. The food would change—I’d still needed it then. My body would recover from abuse and be ready for more and he would come.

Now I healed faster, didn’t need the food, and there wasn’t a regular crowd to entertain. Or maybe there was. Maybe Rosali would take on Cyrus’s role as ringmaster and find new ways to use our durable bodies in her sick little shows.

How fucked up was it that I was almost looking forward to that? As the days passed I couldn’t help thinking it would be better to be dressed up, thrown in the spotlight, and endure whatever happened to me.

At least then I would be fighting. Would be doing something.

Instead, I was nothing but a rat in a cage, running around in circles, going nowhere. Neither facing death or living.

Elah put his hand over mine and gave me a bracing smile. “You can’t compare this to my training. I had a choice. I could have quit.”

His touch tripped me up. It was a shimmer of light in the darkness. One I knew better than to trust. One I had to fight, because, damn it, I wanted to lean on him. I needed to. Instead, I pulled away, focused on his words. “I didn’t know that was an option.”

“It’s always an option.” Elan’s lips thinned. “It’s an option now. I might not be at full strength, but I can kill you. Maybe that’s what they’re waiting for. They’re watching us. They know what I’m capable of. I could rip your heart from your chest before anyone could stop me. And I will if you ask me to.”

So that was the alternative. A hunter couldn’t walk away, but he could die.

I can die.

My throat tightened as I looked down at Elah’s hand. I didn’t doubt for a second that he would do it. Daederich had offered the same when he’d seen me ready to give up. But I hadn’t then.

And I couldn’t now.

This wasn’t about me. It wasn’t even about Elah. Crippled and weak, he could still take out the guards that brought our food. He didn’t because he wouldn’t leave me behind. And he clearly didn’t see any way to get us both out alive.

Yet.

If I was dead, he could leave. He might die trying, but it would be better than this. Better than being stuck here, waiting for the next time someone decided to take us out to play.

Only, with both of us dead, Cyrus would find others to toy with.

Others like Daederich’s son.

The hope that living would spare him kept me going. What I wanted, what I needed, couldn’t even be considered. I couldn’t think of my love for Daederich when he’d turned his back on me again and again to save himself. I couldn’t hold Elah close, because that would be the death of him.

I had to keep him as an ally, but not one I would rely on too much. If life was normal, if I could be who I wanted to be, I’d admit I loved him. I’d fallen for him when it wasn’t smart. When life was all kinds of fucked up and I had a man I’d already given my heart to.

Losing myself to those times was nice. But I couldn’t now. Not while Elah was watching me, wondering if he had to spare me by ending my life.

Drawing away, I rose to stretch out on the bed. Chin braced on my hands, I grinned at him. “You aren’t a very good teacher if you’re giving me an out already.”

His brow lifted. “Is that all I am? A teacher?”

You’re so much more, but now? Yes.

“A sexy teacher.” I was pushing it, but we both knew the rules. Still, this was liberating. Flirting, laughing, pretending we were free to do so. I needed it. “Have I failed already?”

“No, Lydia.” Elah’s lips slanted slightly. “You’ve finally joined the class. So what shall we learn today?”

That question hit me like a rib broken loose, stabbing deeper into my heart with every beat. Even as it hurt, I tried to find the answer. Tried to be like the hunter I’d seen laugh when things were serious. When it seemed there was no way out.

But then I remembered Daederich on him. No. Joe. He was Joe and maybe he had been as long as I’d known him. A creature who belonged to Cyrus. Who had lost his identity to survive.

I swallowed hard and pushed up to sit. “How to stop feeling.”

“You’re stronger than that. Feeling nothing is an easy escape. When things get rough, if you don’t care, what are you fighting for?”

“Survival.” I could play the same game. I had no choice.

He inclined his head. “Maybe. But if you’d been fighting to survive, you wouldn’t be here. And neither would I.”

“But now that’s all I have left.” Damn it, I’d let Joe back in my head and I couldn’t get him out. And his loss was worse than anything Cyrus had done. I hadn’t let myself see that, but it fucking hurt. It hurt so bad and I wanted it to stop.

All the memories I had were of him. Him telling me to keep going. Dragging me back from the edge when I’d come so close to losing myself. Sometimes, I felt like a child, with no experience, with no real skills to lean on in the real world. He’d proven I was so much more. Born again in pain and blood with a will to live. Maybe I wasn’t made of anything else, but it was more than enough to him.

Or maybe that had been yet another game.

“Do you really believe that, Lydia?” Elah was watching me. Maybe even reading my thoughts, since he was old enough to break through all my flimsy barriers. “You have more. Something you should believe in, no matter what you think you see.”

“I have you. I know that.” I dropped to my knees and brought his free hand to my lips. “And don’t you fucking dare believe I think less of you.”

“You better not.” He squeezed my hand. “But—”

The door opened and I released him, scrambling back to the bed. I stared at Cyrus, probably looking guilty as fuck, even though I hadn’t broken his rules.

Who knew if he’d change them from one moment to the next?

His lips slit into a smile of dry humor. “You look well. It seems I’ve left you in good company.”

“You did.” I swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.” He strolled into the room, carrying two garment bags and a small makeup case. Laying both on the bed, he glanced over at me. “Choose whichever suits you, but please don’t take too long to decide. We have reservations.”

“Reservations?” I blinked at him, then looked at the long, black garment bags, confused. “We’re going out?”

He inclined his head, brushing invisible lint from his burgundy, Victorian-style trench coat. His outfit was ostentatious as always, but for some damn reason, the gothic look suited him. The black lace sleeves, the embroidered black vest, and sleek charcoal slacks wouldn’t seem out of place in a fancy club New Orleans. Or really, any club in a big city. Not that he’d bring me somewhere like that. Why give me the chance to escape?

Unless he knew I wouldn’t try to. In which case, he’d be right.

More likely, he was bringing me to one of his or Rosali’s little performances. In which case, I didn’t want to know what I’d be wearing.

“I believe you’ll be pleasantly surprised.” Cyrus tugged at his sleeves, which I’d consider a nervous gesture if I didn’t know better. “I’ll give you a few moments.”

When the door clicked shut behind him, I took a deep breath, shaking my head and looking over at Elah, who stared at the door, his brow furrowed.

“That was…odd.” He pushed off the floor and went to the bed, unzipping one garment bag, then the other. “Huh.”

Moving to his side, I opened the bags a little wider, not sure how to react to what I was seeing. Instead of gaudy dresses, both outfits were no different than anything I might have in my own closet back home. Maybe a bit more expensive, but still. He’d given me pants.

Just like he had the first time he’d tied me up in my basement cell. No reason to get too comfortable, but I couldn’t help relaxing a little. He wasn’t dressing me up to show me off. The leather of the pants was thick, the kind I might wear to offer some protection in a fight. The shirts were both silk, pretty, useless things with tiny buttons, one blood red, the other a deep emerald green, but the jackets would keep me from being overly exposed.

I dressed quickly, choosing the red shirt and the longer jacket.

Elah opened the makeup kit, handing me a tube of lipstick.

“Fuck that.” I zipped up the jacket and pulled my hair into a tight ponytail. “What’s the point?”

He shrugged, dropped the lipstick on the bed, along with mascara, some blush, and a black eyeliner. “He’s in an agreeable mood. Putting in some effort might spare you some pain.”

“Blush isn’t going to keep him from torturing me if he gets the urge.”

“Probably not.” Elah cocked his head. “But consider how much easier Daederich has it when he cooperates.”

My eyes narrowed. “Yes, he’s a very good dog.”

Irritation flashed across Elah’s expression. “Think, Lydia. The rules might change any moment, but for now, you’re being kept healthy and whole. If putting on fucking lipstick would give me the opportunity to gain my strength so I could get the fuck out of here, I’d be the prettiest goddamn bitch you’d ever seen.”

Picturing him wearing makeup and heels, prancing around for Cyrus’s entertainment almost made me laugh, but he had a point. Only one of us was in any position to fight unless we could cut him loose, and we hadn’t figured that out yet. I knew playing along was my best shot, my only shot, at the moment, but logic didn’t dampen my need to defy our captors at every turn.

I ground my teeth, glaring at the makeup.

Then I grabbed it, perched on the edge of the bed, and did my best to make myself presentable. My hands shook as I tried to apply the eyeliner. Tears filled my eyes and I closed the compact, tempted to throw the tiny mirror across the room as wet black lines trailed down my cheeks.

This whole act was…fucked up. Going through the motions of dressing all sexy when Cyrus threatened me was one thing, but this was almost like…like offering myself to him willingly. The end result would be the same, but at least when I resisted some of me still felt alive. Still felt beyond his reach.

His every ‘kind’ gesture, his every attempt to make my imprisonment bearable, weakened my control over all I had left.

“Hey…” Elah reached out, carefully drying my tears. “You’re stronger than this, Lydia. Don’t see this as giving in. Remember the masks we wore, so we could get close enough to kill all those fuckers?”

I tipped my head back, doing my best to keep any more tears from falling. “Yeah.”

“Consider this another mask.” He cupped my cheek in his hand. “He wouldn’t want you so much if you were easy to break. Let him have his illusions. Let him look at you and believe he’s won this little battle.” He moved in close and whispered in my ear. “This will end with only one of you still standing. And you’ll be beautiful, covered in his blood.”

Laughing quietly, I brushed a kiss over his lips. “You say the sweetest things. Thank you.”

When Cyrus returned, I was ready. Lips settled in a neutral smile, I took his arm, hesitating at the door for a second before stepping over the threshold. I’d found comfort in my cage, but I couldn’t stay there if I ever wanted to be free.

There was no one coming to the rescue.

I’d have to find a way to save myself.