Page 34

Matty

W hen Matty had been alone and friendless in a world of monsters, he hadn’t been able to exist in Dominico’s presence without shaking.

It had been like his body hadn’t been able to help itself, trapped in a mixture of acute fear and PTSD from all the punishments that had come before.

Matty would always stumble on clumsy feet and choke on his words, and the more he’d dissolved, the more pleased Dominico had been with his reactions.

It had disgusted Luca, that weakness of his.

Matty was different now. He wasn’t alone or friendless, and he knew without a doubt that Nightmare was coming for him. That he would sense Matty was in trouble and he wouldn’t let any man, demon, or mobster stand in his way.

Dominico was no longer the biggest monster in Matty’s life.

But Matty’s body remembered.

It remembered every cut of Dominico’s knife, every broken bone, every startled wake-up in the middle of the night, pulled from sleep into acting as a monster’s plaything. It remembered every mangled body they’d seen, dead boys who’d served as a warning of Matty’s intended fate.

So Matty still shook as Dominico tied him down to the metal gurney, his muscles weak and treacherous. He was bonded now, and Nightmare had told him that meant he had a demon’s strength to call on, but Matty didn’t know how. He barely knew how to move his lungs to breathe.

Maybe the bonding hadn’t gone right. Maybe Matty was too weak of a vessel to be a real demon’s mate.

The shadow at Matty’s chest pinched at his skin, as if in retribution for his disparaging thoughts.

Right. Matty choked in a breath, his throat still sore from the earlier smoke.

Weak or not, he wasn’t alone. Nightmare would come for him.

Matty didn’t have to be strong in the face of his worst fears come to life.

He didn’t have to be deadly and vicious like another demon might have been.

He only had to survive. That was all Nightmare would ask of him.

To survive.

Matty tried to focus on practicalities. He didn’t know exactly where they were, but they hadn’t walked far; they still had to be in the downtown area.

Matty’s shadow hadn’t made a move against Dominico, which probably meant one wasn’t enough to do the damage a group of them was capable of.

In which case Matty was glad it was staying close—he didn’t want it to get hurt.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” Dominico asked in a false croon as he got Matty’s ankle tied down, the last of his limbs to be trapped against the gurney. He stroked a hand over Matty’s cheek, and Matty bit at his lip to stop from retching. “Just like old times.”

“Shouldn’t you be t-taking me back to New York?” Matty asked, and he wasn’t sure if he should be proud that his voice only trembled a little.

Dominico sighed, looking toward the door they’d come through.

“I’m waiting for my driver. I didn’t expect you to have so many bodyguards around you, Matteo.

It’s been all hands on deck.” He stroked Matty’s cheek again, and then he was hinging at the hips, pulling a familiar bag out from underneath the gurney.

The one that held Dominico’s favorite knives.

“But we can have a little fun while we wait, can’t we? ”

Dominico caressed the bag like a lover, the same way he’d caressed Matty’s cheek.

“Although, the real fun will begin when my new friend gets here. So many things I’ve learned since we last saw each other, Matteo.

You can thank your friend Ivan for leading me in the right direction.

” Dominico leaned in close again. “My demon is going to make you scream .”

At his words, a jolt of searing pain ran through Matteo, sharp and vicious. For a second, he thought it was his body reacting to those words, to the sight of that bag, to all the memories those knives held for him. But then Matty realized it had come through the bond. From Nightmare.

His demon had been hurt.

Dominico pulled out one of his boning knives, one Matty knew all too well. Matty’s shaking intensified, even as he tried to tell himself that knife wasn’t going to touch him. That, even injured or delayed, Nightmare wasn’t going to allow it.

That felt real. That felt like truth.

It was strange. Now that the buildup of fear was over and the worst was already happening—Matty captured, Nightmare struggling, Dominico holding a knife—Matty was able to breathe again, to find the tiniest shred of inner calm deep inside his shaking, traumatized body.

Dominico was only a man. An evil man, but a man nonetheless. He had indents on his face from the pressure of his mask, and he smelled of bad cologne that was failing to mask the rank scent of stress sweat.

And he could hurt Matty, sure, but he couldn’t get at what mattered. He couldn’t get to the core of him, where Nightmare’s soul lay entwined with Matty’s, nestled within his very being. Dominico’s knives couldn’t cut that deep.

Nothing could.

The shadow against Matty’s chest grew warmer, as if in agreement, and Matty focused on that heat. That comfort.

He was grateful for the distraction, because Dominico took his time setting up his station. He kept his boning knife in hand but laid all the others out carefully on a little table he’d pulled from somewhere. Dominico’s precious tools. The only things he really cared about other than himself.

And then eventually—sooner than Matty would have liked—Dominico turned his attention back to Matty.

“Can I a-ask you a question?” Matty asked. He was glad for the tremble in his voice now. Dominico liked to hear it, demented asshole that he was. And Matty would keep him happy, keep him occupied.

And Nightmare would come.

Dominico cocked his head. “Am I going to fuck your corpse after I kill you? Why yes, Matteo.”

Matty’s flinch was just as involuntary as the shaking, but Dominico seemed to like it, so oh well. The shadow on Matty’s chest grew even warmer. Maybe its heat was a gauge of its rage. Or maybe it was just comforting Matty in the face of that vile promise.

Matty’s swallow tasted of bile. “Why did Luca choose me? What d-did he see in me? He would never say.”

“You don’t remember?” Dominico’s dark eyes gleamed as he leaned against the wall, toying with the knife, testing its edge against his thumb.

He’d always liked the buildup, the anticipation of incoming pain, and that was working in Matty’s favor tonight.

“One of his men tried to hurt your mother, back when the bitch was still around. You bit him. Practically straight to the bone even with those baby teeth of yours.”

He grinned, condescension in his gaze. “I suppose you did it to protect her. And then she sold you for nothing before leaving you behind, and you never showed any bit of spirit ever again. Luca hated that.” Dominico straightened from the wall, stepping up to the gurney.

“But I like how soft you are, Matteo. How weak.”

Without warning, he sliced the point of his knife straight down Matty’s chest, from sternum to belly, cutting through Matty’s shirt.

He wasn’t careful with it, but the shadow covering Matty cushioned him, and Matty wasn’t cut by the blade.

Dominico didn’t seem to notice, his gaze intent on Matty’s face.

“Some people think it’s no fun, breaking something that’s already broken.

But you can always smash a person into smaller pieces.

” Dominico cocked his head, gauging how well his threats were landing.

He must have seen something he liked, because his lips curled into a cruel smile.

“Why, Matteo, have you gone and grown a backbone while I’ve been away?

I could almost swear I see a little life in those big eyes of yours. That’s a first.”

Matty blinked, but his eyes were dry. He had the answer to his question, and it was just as meaningless as he’d thought.

His life of suffering with Luca had basically been random.

He’d tried to protect someone who hadn’t cared for him enough to deserve it, and he’d been traded for nothing.

It wasn’t surprising news, and he wasn’t going to be broken by it.

“My friends are coming for me,” he said quietly, without the slightest tremble in his voice.

“You have no friends, Matteo. You have no one. You’ve always had no one.

” Dominico leaned closer, his breath hot and rank against Matty’s face.

“From the day your worthless mother pushed you out of her cunt, you’ve been unwanted and alone.

” Another caress to Matty’s cheek. Matty would need to take a hundred showers after this, just to wash off the stain of this man’s touch.

“You should be grateful for my continued interest. It’s the only proof you even exist. There’s no one else who cares to remember. ”

The shadow still hiding under Matty’s torn shirt shifted and wiggled, as if to remind him that Dominico’s words weren’t true.

But Matty already knew.

Dominico had been so turned on by his own slimy voice that he’d missed the room around them growing darker, the shadows in the corners lengthening and stretching, merging together. He’d missed the spiderlike limbs coming out of the darkness, and the white skull hanging three feet above his head.

Matty grinned, and maybe he had a bit of Nightmare in him after all, because for the first time in Matty’s life, he saw fear in Dominico’s eyes, even as the horrible wretch had no idea what surrounded him.

“ He cares,” Matty said fiercely, just as Nightmare’s talons pierced Dominico’s neck.

Nightmare was the most massive and monstrous and wonderful thing Matty had ever seen as he lifted the six-plus feet of Dominico off the ground, easy as anything.

His eyes were glowing, his skull was grinning, his fangs were flashing. If Dominico could see what had a hold of him, he’d piss himself with fear.

But Dominico didn’t get a chance before Nightmare dropped his limp body to the ground.