Burn For Me (Phoenix Fire 1)

But . . . it was one she couldn’t hear.

Her breath whispered out.

Hell.

More paranormals were rushing their way. Shouts and screams filled the air.

Cain jumped in the truck. Some helpful human had left the keys under the dash, so no hot-wiring necessary. The engine revved to life, and he jerked the vehicle into reverse, making several of the paranormals leap out of the way.

If they hadn’t moved, he would have happily gone through them.

“C-Cain?” The softest rasp of Eve’s voice.

His hands tightened on the wheel. Her lashes were fluttering.

The SP-tranq never kept the most powerful paranormals out for long. It had only kept him unconscious for a few minutes.

She’d been out about fifteen minutes. Not long . . .

“You’re safe,” he told her. Wasn’t that all she needed to know right now? He yanked the wheel to the right. He knew this area. Another mistake for the Genesis ass**les. They were playing in his backyard. He’d just needed to get away from the facility and those chains, and, now that he was out, he’d be able to vanish almost instantly.

He drove them down a twisted, dirt road. Turned to the left. The right.

The blaze behind them vanished, but the smoke still thickened the air.

“What’s . . . burning?” Eve’s voice. Soft. So lost.

Everything. He felt a grim smile curl his lips. Genesis was dead—and it was about f**king time.

The cabin was easy to find only if you knew where to go. The Blue Ridge Mountains held plenty of secrets, and this safe house was one that Cain hadn’t shared with anyone else. Trust wasn’t exactly easy for him.

And when he was betrayed, as he’d been betrayed by that worthless shifter Jimmy Vance, Cain always made sure to seek his vengeance. Jimmy wouldn’t get away with selling him out.

The deception would prove to be a fatal mistake for the shifter. A fatal and oh so painful mistake.

“W-where are we?”

Cain killed the engine at the sound of Eve’s voice. Her eyes were open, but the blue of her gaze looked cloudy, and the faint line between her brows showed her confusion.

At least she was back with him. For a little bit, he’d almost . . . worried.

As a rule, he didn’t give a shit about anyone.

“A safe house,” he told her. The place would do, for now. They needed to hide out until the fire died. Those flames would bring more humans—humans who wanted to investigate. They’d stay hidden until the flames and the smoke vanished.

Her breath rushed out. “You . . . saved me.” Shock coated the words.

He shoved open his door. Stalked around the truck and paused near the passenger side of the vehicle. She frowned at him and fumbled, trying to open the door. Eve couldn’t seem to get the lock to disengage.

He yanked open the door, shattering the lock, and pulled her into his arms. Why the hell did she seem to fit against him so well?

His whole body tensed as he lifted her against his chest.

“I can . . . walk.” She sounded disgruntled.

Would a little thank-you have killed the woman? He had hauled her ass out of a nightmare and gotten her to safety. But if the woman wanted to walk . . .

Jaw locking, Cain eased her onto her feet and backed up.

Her dark hair fell around her face, but he saw her shoulders straighten. Then she took a step forward.

He caught her before she slammed, face-first, into the dirt. The little growl of frustration that she gave shouldn’t have sounded sexy.

But every damn thing about her was sexy to him.

She can stand the heat.

He lifted her right back against his chest. Her head eased onto his shoulder, and her hair brushed lightly against him. She should have smelled like smoke and ash. They’d gone through hell.

But she still smelled like candy to him. Sweet. Light. Delicious.

I want a bite.

He’d be taking that bite before he let her go. Cain carried her inside the cabin. Set the security system. Turned on the lights. The cabin wasn’t big. Not fancy, but the place had a bed. Four walls. Food.

What more did they really need right then? Just a place to lay low.

He headed toward the bed.

Eve’s body stiffened in his arms. “Um . . . wait . . . what—”

Carefully, he put her down on top of the covers. She looked right in his bed. She’d look even better naked. The woman did need to get out of those burned clothes. “Genesis is gone.” Did she remember that part? The flames? The screams?

Her eyes widened. She glanced down at her clothes. Had to see the ash. The fire had burned part of her clothing, but the flames hadn’t marred her flesh. “You . . . took me out.” Her voice was stronger. Still husky. Still like a hot stroke right over his groin. “Got me out of the flames after . . .” She sat up slowly, sliding over the covers with a hiss of sound. “After that bastard shot me.”

Anger sharpened her words. But who wouldn’t be pissed after getting shot?

He reached for her.

She flinched away from him.

Cain’s jaw clenched. Right. Just because he’d saved her, just because she could handle the flames, didn’t mean her opinion of him would be any different from anybody else’s. She’d still look at him and see the freak who could burn.

The man who touched hell.

“I’m just checking your wound,” he snapped. Like she hadn’t been kissing him before. Rubbing her body against his. Acting like she wanted him.

But they’d had an audience then, and maybe every moan, every stroke of her body against his had been nothing more than an act.

The woman is one fine actress. He’d have to remember that. She’d just been playing a role.

When he’d been f**king desperate to take her. To finally be with someone who could handle his power.

Her hand lifted slowly and slid over her stomach. The bottom of the shirt had been burned away. The tranq had caught her in the stomach, he knew that, but her hand slid over smooth, unblemished skin.

Not that the tranq ever left much of a mark, anyway. Wyatt had designed it to be a subtle but painful attack. Easier to take out prey and then deny any action later.

“What was it?” she asked as her fingers pressed against her stomach. Smooth flesh. Pale.

Lickable.

“A tranq.” His voice sounded like ragged gravel, so he cleared his throat and tried again. “A special mix Wyatt made. It can knock out even the strongest paranormals.” And kill the weakest.

Good thing she hadn’t been weak.

What was she?

“Can you create the fire?” he asked because maybe—his heart raced faster—maybe she was just like him. He’d always been an outcast in the paranormal world. A freak, even among the monsters. But if she was like him, if he wasn’t alone . . .