Chapter Seven
Newt felt like he was going to vomit as they slammed into a floor.
He landed on top of his mate, feeling the wind being knocked out of him.
What the heck? One moment Newt was standing in the closet, glancing around and embarrassed he’d made his exit through the wrong door.
And then this? What was this? With a deep moan, he tried to push off of Vaughn, but his mate tightened his arms around Newt, whispering, “Don’t move. ”
Something invisible yanked Newt upward, ripping him from Vaughn’s protective embrace.
His body jerked through the air as if caught by a massive hook, arms and legs flailing uselessly.
Before he could even scream, his back slammed against a cold metal table, knocking what little breath remained from his lungs.
Metal cuffs snapped around his wrists and ankles with brutal efficiency. The restraints bit into his skin, cold and unyielding. Newt gasped, trying to make sense of what was happening as his brain struggled to catch up with his body's sudden imprisonment.
“Vaughn!” he cried out, panic rising like bile in his throat. The room spun around him—stone walls, dim torchlight, and the sickening smell of old blood and fear.
Vaughn scrambled to his feet, face transforming into something feral and terrified. “God no,” he muttered, rushing to Newt’s side. His hands flew to the restraints, pulling at them with desperate strength.
“What’s happening? Where are we?” Newt’s voice cracked as he pulled against the metal bands securing him to what felt horrifyingly like a medieval torture device. The metal frame beneath him was cold enough to seep through Vaughn’s borrowed shirt, raising goosebumps across his skin.
Vaughn’s face drained of color. “We’re in Vex’s dungeon.”
The words fell like stones into Newt’s stomach. Vex. The demon who had tortured Vaughn. The source of his nightmares, his trembling hands, his fear of shadows…
And now they were trapped in his lair.
“This is where he—” Newt couldn’t finish the sentence. Didn’t need to. The answer was written in every line of Vaughn’s face, in the way his breathing had gone shallow and fast, in how his eyes darted to every corner as if expecting monsters to materialize.
A chill ran through Newt that had nothing to do with the cold metal beneath him. This was the place where someone had methodically tried to break his mate. Where Vaughn had suffered pain so intense it still haunted him months later. And now, by some twisted magic, they were both here.
“We need to get out.” Newt pulled against the restraints again, metal cutting into his wrists. Blood trickled down his arm, warm and sticky. His wings pressed painfully against his back, trapped between his body and the metal rack. If they tore…
Vaughn worked frantically at the restraints, muscles straining as he tried to pry them open with brute force. His face contorted with the effort, veins standing out on his neck and forearms. The cuffs didn’t budge.
“There has to be a key,” Vaughn muttered, eyes scanning the dimly lit room.
Ancient stone walls surrounded them, slick with moisture and something darker that Newt didn’t want to identify. A single torch cast dancing shadows that seemed to reach for them with malicious intent.
Against one wall stood a table covered with implements that made Newt’s stomach lurch—knives, whips, and things whose purpose he couldn’t begin to guess. His throat closed at the thought of these tools being used on Vaughn.
“I’ll get you out of here,” Vaughn promised, voice tight with determination as he searched the room. “I swear.”
Newt tried to calm his racing heart, to think logically. His magic. Maybe he could use it to free himself. He closed his eyes, focusing his energy on the restraints. Words of unlocking and freedom formed on his lips, fae words meant to break bonds.
Nothing happened. Not even a flicker of his usual purple glow.
“My magic isn’t working,” he said, voice rising with panic. “I can’t feel it at all.”
Vaughn grabbed a rusty metal rod from the corner, jamming it between the cuff and the frame, trying to use it as a lever. Muscles bulged as he applied pressure, teeth gritted with effort. The rod bent then snapped, sending Vaughn stumbling backward.
“Damn it!” He hurled the useless piece of metal across the room. It clattered against the stone wall, the sound echoing ominously through the chamber.
Newt watched as Vaughn patted his pockets frantically. “Phone’s gone,” he growled. “Goddamn it.”
The reality of their situation crashed down on Newt with crushing weight. They were trapped in a demon’s torture chamber, cut off from help, with Newt immobilized and Vaughn rapidly unraveling in the place that haunted his nightmares. And it was all Newt’s fault.
If he hadn’t tried to leave, if he hadn’t stormed off in childish anger, they wouldn’t be here now.
“I’m sorry,” Newt whispered, tears welling in his eyes. “This is my fault. If I hadn’t left you this morning—”
“Don’t,” Vaughn cut him off, returning to the restraints. He wrapped his hands around the metal cuff on Newt’s right wrist and pulled with everything he had. Veins bulged in his forearms, his face reddening with effort. The metal groaned but held fast.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Newt continued, needing to say it while he still could. “I was scared, and I thought I was protecting you, but I was wrong.”
Vaughn abandoned the cuffs and moved to cup Newt’s face between his palms. His touch was surprisingly gentle for hands that had just been straining against metal.
“I forgive you,” he said, eyes locked on Newt’s. “We’re going to get out of this.”
Newt knew it wasn’t true. Not the forgiveness and maybe not the escape either. The pain was too fresh, the betrayal too recent. Vaughn was saying what needed to be said because they might not get another chance.
“I don’t want to marry anyone,” Newt blurted out, tears spilling down his cheeks. “I don’t care what my father wants or what the law says. You’re my mate. Only you.”
Vaughn’s expression softened for a moment, thumb brushing away a tear from Newt’s cheek. Then his head snapped up, attention caught by something beyond Newt’s field of vision. His face hardened, muscles tensing as if preparing for a fight.
“We don’t have much time,” he muttered, returning to the restraints with renewed urgency. “He'll be coming soon.”
The words sent ice through Newt’s veins. He didn’t need to ask who “he” was. Vex. The demon who had methodically taken Vaughn apart, who had shown him pain unlike anything he’d felt before.
And now they were trapped in his playground, with Newt helpless and Vaughn fighting ghosts as well as metal.
“Try your wolf,” Newt suggested desperately. “Can you shift?”
Vaughn closed his eyes, concentrating. His body trembled with effort, but nothing happened. “Can’t,” he gasped. “Same as before. The place is warded.”
Newt strained against the restraints again, ignoring the pain as metal dug deeper into his wrists. Blood trickled down his arms, dripping onto the metal beneath him. Each drop made a tiny sound, counting down moments they didn’t have.
Vaughn moved frantically around the room, searching for anything that might help.
He overturned the small table of torture implements, scattering them across the stone floor with a cacophony of metallic clangs.
Nothing useful among the nightmares. He ran his hands along the walls, clearly looking for hidden mechanisms or weaknesses.
“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.
“Fuck you,” he growled, forcing himself to his feet, spitting blood onto the stone floor.
He charged again, his body remembering what his mind wanted to forget. His canines lengthened, pushing past his lips in a snarl. Claws extended from his fingertips, sharp and lethal. The partial shift came naturally, his wolf pushing through despite the wards preventing a full transformation.
Vaughn barreled forward, a growl tearing from his throat. He slammed into Vex with all his weight behind the impact, driving the demon to the floor. His fist connected with Vex’s jaw, a satisfying crunch of bone against bone. For one glorious moment, he savored the shock in those inhuman eyes.
“That’s for last time,” he snarled, drawing back for another blow.
Vex’s eyes darkened to bottomless pits. A force like an invisible battering ram slammed into Vaughn’s chest, lifting him off the demon and hurling him across the room. His back hit the wall hard enough to crack the stone, the impact forcing air from his lungs in a painful rush.
Behind him, Newt screamed.
Vaughn whipped around to see his mate’s body arching against the restraints, every muscle rigid with pain. Newt’s face contorted in silent agony as his limbs jerked uncontrollably against the metal cuffs, drawing fresh blood from his wrists and ankles.
“Stop!” Vaughn shouted, freezing in place.
Vex smiled, a terrible thing that stretched too wide across his face. He climbed to his feet, ignoring the knife still embedded in his thigh as if it were nothing more than a splinter. With a casual gesture, he released whatever hold he had on Newt.
The fae collapsed against the metal frame, chest heaving with labored breaths. Sweat plastered his cotton-candy hair to his forehead, his skin flushed with exertion and pain.
“So protective,” Vex observed, limping closer to Newt. “How touching.”
Rage coiled in Vaughn’s gut, hot and desperate. He’d let this demon hurt him once before. Hours of methodical torture still haunted his sleep. But he would not, could not, let him touch Newt.