Even paranormals could do some pillow talk.

“Where were you?” Eve demanded then realized she sounded like some really angry girlfriend. Crap.

Wow. Not me. She’d never done the angry scene before. She guessed there was a first time for everything. Jack. Ass.

Cain lifted the object he was holding. “I went back for this. Thought you might want it. You were sure clinging to it tight enough back in Wyatt’s office.”

Wyatt’s laptop. Eve flew across the room and grabbed it. Okay, so it was black with soot and ash, kinda dinged up, but it didn’t look too bad. No, actually, it looked so good and sweet—evidence!—that she almost kissed it.

She rushed away from him, and sat down at the small table, and opened the laptop. Yes, yes, the power hummed right on and then—

“You’re welcome,” Cain drawled from behind her.

She heard the door shut. Her cheeks flushed, and she glanced over her shoulder at him. He stood in front of the door with his hands crossed over his chest. Sometimes, she got a little too carried away with things. He’d gone back for the laptop. That was rather . . . awesome. And kinda sweet. Eve forced herself to turn away from the laptop and rise slowly to face Cain. “Thank you.” She needed that laptop. It was proof. Well, it was her proof, and so was Cain. Living, breathing, talking proof.

His gaze dropped to her mouth. “Thank me with a kiss.”

She could feel her flush getting deeper.

“It wasn’t easy to get it, either. Local cops are swarming that place, and I had to crawl through the rubble left behind in order to find it.” He took a step toward her. One. Then another. Stalking her. His gaze was on her face as he said, “I figure a kiss is the least I deserve for that little prize.”

Kissing him wasn’t exactly a hardship for her. She wet her lips. His eyes weren’t blazing—a good thing—they were back to being dark and intense. But she could still see the lust in his stare.

Her heart began to race faster. “A kiss . . . seems fair to me.” If he had been there when she woke up, she would have given him a whole lot more than just a kiss good morning.

Since he’d left to retrieve the laptop for her, Eve figured she could forgive the guy. The laptop was way more important than pillow talk.

She had her priorities. Most days.

So she was the one that closed the distance between them. The one to lift her hands and curl them around his neck. He was still warm to the touch, but not as hot as he’d been before. Eve rose onto her toes as his head lowered toward her.

The kiss was easy, light. Exploring.

At first.

Then she caught his lower lip between her teeth. Tugged gently. Nipped.

He shuddered against her.

The kiss stopped being so easy and light.

His tongue thrust into her mouth. His hands settled on her ass and lifted her right up against his cock. Ah, he was definitely responding to the kiss. So was she. Her ni**les were getting tight and heavy. She’d wanted his mouth on them last night. Maybe now he could—

Cain’s head lifted. “How do you smell so good?”

What? She blinked at him.

“Sweet, light,” he said, eyes narrowing as they swept over. “Like candy.”

Oh. Ahem. She cleared her throat. “That’s the soap I use.” Soap. Shampoo. Body lotion. She’d gotten some big kit last Christmas, and she used it all the time. Eve couldn’t remember the name, something like peppermint dreams or—

“It makes me want to lick you all over.”

That didn’t sound like such a bad plan to her. “Will I get a turn?” Her voice lowered as she asked. Licking him would be pretty damn fantastic.

But he stiffened and pushed her away. Eve’s brows lowered, and she shook her head. In her limited experience, guys didn’t turn down offers like the one she’d just made. Guys jumped on those offers. “Cain?”

He’d spun away from her and was at the window, peeking out through the thin curtains. “Company.”

She didn’t hear anything, but she still hurried to his side. Okay, she didn’t see anything, either. “Are you sure?”

“Two cars. Police. They’re searching the area. I thought we’d have more time . . .” He grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the window. “We’re leaving. Now.”

So in addition to being a literal firepower, the guy had super senses, too. She’d known that he’d heard her and Wyatt through that so-called soundproof glass, but now he was just being extra impressive.

Eve hurried over to the laptop. A new screen was up—one that asked for a password. Like a password request would stop her. She knew people—or rather, one very smart guy in particular—who could work around pretty much any tech code out there.

“Hurry, Eve.”

She turned back to him. She was wearing an old shirt that she’d found in his closet, one that she’d belted to make look like a rather unstylish dress. She had on her shoes, and after a shower, she looked semi—

“Eve.”

Right. Screw beauty. She hurried after him. They jumped into the truck and rushed down a dirt road. She looked back behind them as Cain hauled ass, but still didn’t see anyone. “If Genesis is dead, why are we running?”

“Because cops and I damn well don’t mix.” He was flooring the truck, sending it bouncing along the road and hurtling down the mountain.

She yanked on her seat belt. “We’re the innocent ones here. Wyatt was the one who—”

His cold laughter stopped her. “Baby, I’ve never been innocent a day in my life.”

Eve could believe that. Actually, she wasn’t sure that she wanted to know about all the things he’d done.

“When you do your big report on Genesis and that prick Wyatt, do me one favor . . .” Cain slanted a fast glance her way even as he punched the gas harder. “Leave my name out of it.”

“But—but what he did to you . . .” She’d seen it with her own eyes. “They killed you. Tortured you.” He deserved justice for that. People should know his story.

“Not like it’s the first time for any of that.” Cain’s voice was growing colder, but the truck was still going just as fast. “So tell your story, but leave me the hell out of it. The last thing I want is any attention from the media—or the humans.”

Her hand tightened around the seat belt strap that crossed her shoulder. “Okay.” She figured he deserved that protection. He’d hauled her butt out of the fire. She’d keep his name out of her story. Subject Thirteen. That was all he’d be to the people who read about the nightmare of Genesis.




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