Cement walls painted white, bloodstained in streaks where I could see fingerprints if I looked closely. Chains on the wall across from the bed where I woke. On the floor, with iron shackles around one ankle and one wrist, I could barely make out a man laying naked, facedown on the dirt floor. His skin was caked with blood and mud, camouflaging him in the shadows until he rolled over.

Then I saw the barest hint of white and dark grey as his eyes opened in slits. I slid off the bed, using a blanket to cover my own naked body, inching closer to him, confused that it had taken me so long to recognize him. Elah was a man I’d known for…years it seemed. But to be honest, during all the time I’d known him, I wasn’t sure I could have described him if asked. His eyes had been brown, hadn’t they? Or maybe blue? His hair was either black or blonde.

He was taller than me, but that was the only thing I could say for sure. Which maybe wasn’t so strange at all. As a hunter, he managed to disappear in a crowd with ease, stand among friends or enemies without drawing attention to himself unless he chose to display his strength.

His strength was the one thing no one could forget. One look at him and none could doubt that he was a man to be feared.

Now, laying on the floor, lips parted, shuddering slightly, I couldn’t even see that.

But I saw him. The real him, for the first time ever. Whatever power he’d used to be so nondescript had faltered with the abuse of his body and mind. I knelt at his side and gently brushed flakes of drying mud from around his eyes, smiling when he stared up at me.

“Hey, hunter.” I held my breath as he weakly tried to lift his head and the scent of fresh blood filled the air. The blood didn’t smell right though…the scent was as weak as droplets on the earth being washed away in a downpour. “I’d say it’s good to see you, but that would be a fucking lie.”

“Missed you too, sweetheart.” He let out a raspy laugh, his words faint, as though he couldn’t get enough air in to form them properly. Like me, he didn’t need the oxygen, but the basics of speech were the same for us as for mortals. If he couldn’t breathe, talking would be a challenge.

I wouldn’t force him to keep trying. I stood, grabbing the sheet and pillow off the bed, keeping my tone light, like I wasn’t the least bit worried about him. He’d resent any pity I showed. “I hope you don’t mind, but it’s fucking cold in here, so I want to cuddle.” Carefully lifting his head, I placed the pillow under it. “Just give me a sec to get cleaned up. I’ll bring some water for you too if you—”

“Stop.” Elah sighed, his tongue running over his bottom lip without wetting it. “I’d rather you take care of me than try to tiptoe around my ego. Please bring some water. I… Fuck, I need to be clean.”

It felt like I’d been punched in the throat when he closed his eyes and tried to turn away from me. No matter how tough he was, what had been done to him had broken something inside him. When I’d been through the same, I’d had Daederich to lean on. All Elah had was me.

Yes, but he does have me. His lover and his friend. And damn it, I’ll be enough.

I had to be.

“If I give you some blood, you’ll heal faster. Maybe that will help.” I frowned when he shook his head. “Damn it, Elah, your blood is thin. I don’t know why, but you’ll take forever to heal like this.”

“And you don’t have enough to spare. If you weren’t so focused on me, you’d realize you’re not in hot shape yourself.”

“But I can stand.”

He managed to turn away from me now, so I gave up arguing with him and tore a length of the sheet before heading to the bathroom. This one was cleaner than the one I’d had in my original cell, but not much bigger. There was a toilet we wouldn’t need, and a sink with a large cabinet. Inside there was an old bar of soap. Between the toilet and the cabinet, I found a small, empty trashcan, which I quickly filled in the sink.

Returning to the room with the supplies and the water, I settled on the floor by Elah and got to work cleaning him up. Under the dried mud, the skin of his back was torn so badly I had to pour water into the wounds to clean them before pushing the flesh together and compressing it in place with folded pieces of the sheet.

At first, I tried making small talk, but after a careless question of ‘What have you been up to?’ resulted in a curt ‘Looking for you.’ I decided silence was probably best. I lost count of how many trips I made for fresh water. Elah’s wounds weren’t closing and nothing I did could staunch the steady flow. Frustrated, I tore the flesh on my wrist with my fangs and pressed it against his lips.

That he couldn’t fight me off, despite his best efforts, scared the hell out of me. I was pretty sure we couldn’t starve to death, but whatever had been done to him prevented him from healing. And in his weakened state, there was no telling how much more he could take before his mind snapped.

In my time with Daederich, hunting for his son and taking up contract kills to earn a living—we were mercenaries after all, not thieves—we’d come across immortals that had to be put down like rabid dogs. Creatures who ran the risk of exposing us all, mindless things that could never sate their endless thirst. Because their hunger drove them. There was nothing left of the sentient being they’d once been.

Daederich had told me, for some, the embrace alone could destroy the mind. For others, it was a traumatic experience. We might live forever, but our sense of self was still fragile. Granted, a hunter could probably take more than the rest, but there was a reason they chose death rather than capture. Even if they managed to escape, the damage would be done.

Making sure Elah survived this hell was one thing. Keeping him whole was a completely different story.

“Don’t look at me like that, Lydia.” Elah licked my wrist, shaking his head when I tried to force it back against his mouth. “I’m here for you and that’s all I fucking need to hang on to. Our whole rescue plan is shot, but there’s always plan B.”

This I gotta hear. “And what’s plan B?”

“Don’t you know? I pretend to be too weak to fight. Let you take care of me and then catch them off-guard.” His lips slanted when I rolled my eyes. “See, it’s working already. You bought the act.”

A slight rustle of fabric, likely intentional because I knew how soundlessly he could move, brought my head up as Cyrus approached. He’d gotten through the door and within two steps of me without Elah noticing. Unheard of for a hunter, especially one as experienced as he was.

Not that I’d believed Elah was playing at being hurt, but this was very, very bad. I bit the inside of my cheek and fought to keep my expression neutral as Cyrus gazed down at us with an amused smile on his lips. He brushed his hand down the front of his fitted, three-quarter length, black velvet jacket, looking every inch the polished devil. Only a few hours earlier he’d been covered in blood, with his tangled hair strung wild across his face, his eyes flashing with rage.

Or maybe I’d imagined him on the edge of losing control. It would make for a pretty dream.

“Conspiring your great escape, pet?” He held his hand up when my lips parted. “I’m teasing you. I’m fully aware that your sole focus is on keeping this one whole. I brought something to help.”

Baring his fangs, Elah lifted his head from the pillow, pressing his fist into the dirt. “Don’t listen to him, Lydia. Everything he offers comes with a price.”

Taking Elah’s hand, I squeezed lightly, never taking my eyes off Cyrus. “Why would you help him? We both know you can’t handle him at full strength.”

Cyrus laughed. “I should be insulted, but you’re right, my dear.” He pulled a flask from an inner pocket of his jacket. “I have no intention of letting him return to full strength. But he won’t be very entertaining as so much lifeless meat. Rosali has always been careless with her pets. She still has much to learn.”

To hear Cyrus saying he’d teach Rosali how to care for her pets was frightening, but at least he’d never accidentally killed any, right?

That still didn’t explain why he’d give a damn whether Elah lived or died. Cyrus might be obsessed with me, but Daederich had always been his favorite act. And he was just fucking fine.

Stepping up to my side, Cyrus put his hand on my shoulder. “You’ve answered your own question, Lydia. I give a damn because he’s important to you. I can’t be with you right now, but there’s no need for you to be alone.”

He held out the flask. I took it, uncapping it and bringing it to my lips.

Cyrus dropped to a knee and latched on to my wrist. “No. You will feed from me. This is only for him.”

Yeah, because I’m trusting that. I jerked away from him. “If it’s good enough for him, it’s good enough for me.”

“It’s diluted with blood thinners. The fresh blood will hasten his healing, while the anticoagulants will keep him docile.” Cyrus curved his hand under my chin, his fingers digging in to prevent me from looking away. “He will become exactly as you fear without this, Lydia. His body and mind will shut down. If Rosali decides to revive him after, nothing will be left of the man you know. Is that how you’ll repay his loyalty?”

My eyes teared as Cyrus finally released me. He straightened, brushing the dirt off the knee of his snug, black dress pants, then whipping out the black handkerchief from his jacket pocket to clean the dust from his boots.

While Cyrus primped, I met Elah’s steady gaze. A trickle of watery blood trailed from the corner of his lips and his bloodshot eyes. He opened his mouth, and for a split-second I was sure he would tell me no. Tell me he’d rather die.

And I wasn’t sure I could respect his wishes. Selfish, yes. But he’d be gone and I’d still be here, watching a thing with his face being used for eternity.

“Give it to me, Lydia.” Elah managed to lift his hand enough to place it over the one holding the flask. His skin was cold and I could barely feel his pulse when I brought my other hand to his wrist. “This is probably some sick game, but I wanna play.”

The tears I’d managed to hold back fell as I let out a broken laugh. Only Elah could joke in a situation like this. I shook my head and opened the flask, bringing it to his mouth.

Cyrus’s lips brushed my ear as I watched Elah swallow every last drop. “Consider this a gift, pet. But I suggest you don’t abuse it. If you fuck him, I will tear him limb from limb, leave bloody pieces in your bed, and keep his head on my wall as a fucking trophy. And a reminder for you not to cross me.”

I nodded, brushing Elah’s soft brown hair away from his cheeks as he drifted off to sleep. Already his color was better and his muscles had thickened. His wounds hadn’t quite healed, but no fresh blood spilled.

He’d be all right. And that was all I could ask for at this point. Having him here didn’t give me any hope that I could escape, but maybe he could at some point. Convincing him to leave without me wouldn’t be easy, but I’d worry about that later. At least he’d still be around to argue with me about it.

“Thank you.” I whispered, tipping my head back, surprised to see Cyrus hadn’t moved.

He had the strangest look on his face. A mix between confusion and relief. He cleared his throat. “You’re welcome.”

“Would it be pushing my luck to ask for some clean clothes? Maybe medical supplies, since he’s healing so slowly?” Couldn’t hurt to ask.

Well, it could, but Cyrus seemed to be in a charitable mood, so I’d chance it.

Smirking, Cyrus shook his head. “You never cease to amaze me, Lydia. Yes, I will send someone with whatever you may need. This room is not my choice for you, but I will do my best to make it tolerable.”

“Won’t that make Rosali question what I mean to you?” I bit my bottom lip when his eyes narrowed. “That’s why I’m here. I heard what you said to her.”

“But you knew I was lying.”

“Yes.”

His expression softened. “Good.” He held out his hand. “Come, you will feed from me before I go. I will return to Rosali and keep her distracted. I can’t promise that one or both of you won’t be performing again soon, but I will buy you what time I can.”

Rather than thank him again, I took his hand and let him pull me into his arms. His gaze held mine, searching for something in my eyes. Whatever he found must have satisfied him, because he kissed me softly before guiding my lips to his throat and letting me drink my fill.

After he was gone, I lay on the bare mattress, doing my best to ignore the balming sensation of Cyrus’s blood repairing the damage done to my body. Elah was right. I’d been so focused on him, I hadn’t noticed how broken I was. Only with the pain gone did I realize so much of my flesh had torn that it was amazing I’d managed to get off the damn bed.

Everything Cyrus gave came with a price, but…he’d asked for nothing. He might later. He could come for me whenever, and that I questioned whether he would scared me. Of course he would. He was toying with me. Trying to get me to let my guard down.

He didn’t have to help Elah to do that.

Maybe not, but it had certainly made this the most pleasant exchange we’d ever had. I wasn’t fighting him off or holding still while he used me. Rather than cause pain, he’d eased mine.

And he wasn’t a big fan of Rosali. She was his sire, and she was the one who’d captured Daederich and Elah. The whole fucked up scene on stage had been her idea.

Not that Cyrus couldn’t have come up with something just as bad on his own, but the point was, he hadn’t. I wouldn’t exactly consider him an ally, but he wasn’t the greatest threat now.

The enemy of my enemy is my…

Fuck that noise. Cyrus wasn’t my anything.

Except the only one who could keep me alive.