Burn For Me (Phoenix Fire 1)

Cain already had her up. He pulled her with him and back toward the stairs.

“Told you,” Cain growled. More glass exploded—she could hear it shattering all through the house. “You’re being . . . hunted.”

Cain had followed her back to Trace’s house. Either he’d lead the hunters to her . . . they’d followed him or . . .

Or they followed me and Trace when we left the warehouse. We got away too easily. They followed us and they waited for Cain to show up.

If her throat weren’t burning so much, she could say this . . . but no, she couldn’t manage so much as a word right then.

“They’re coming in. They want us alive.” Cain was talking to Trace now.

What? Were they suddenly buddy-buddy? A little hell could do that to guys.

“Well, they want her alive anyway. They’ll either kill you or take you in.”

“I’m not going in a cage.” The fury in Trace’s voice chilled her. He’d been in a cage as a teen—trapped in prison. He’d sworn never to go back.

The cage hurt his beast too much.

Hurt him too much.

Trace needed to leave her. He could run so fast.

Without her, Eve knew he’d be able to get away from the hunters coming. “L-leave . . .” The word was a raw whisper in her throat. Why wasn’t the gas affecting them as much?

Trace staggered and fell down three steps. The gas was hitting him.

Her chest ached.

“I’ve got her,” Cain said. “Get out of here!”

But was it too late? Eve could hear the thud of footsteps racing inside Trace’s house. The hunters were coming for them.

Why?

Wyatt was dead. Genesis had burned. They should be safe.

“Hurt her”—Trace snarled—“and I’ll . . . kill you.”

She saw the beast shining in his eyes. His shift was coming.

“You can try,” Cain told him, not sounding too concerned, “but I can’t promise I’ll stay dead.”

The gas must’ve had the smallest impact on him. He still sounded normal. Was still walking and—

No, he was running. Running right down the stairs, dragging her with him, and fire was flowing from the fingers of his right hand. Fire that raced toward the men with guns. They shot their bullets, aiming at him. Eve heard Cain grunt, but he didn’t slow down.

The fire blew open the front door. She was behind him, stumbling, holding on to him as best she could as he faced the shooters. His fire swept out, forming a wall that shoved the others back, even as Cain pulled her toward a motorcycle that waited near the edge of the property.

The fresh air slid into her lungs, making her stronger. The light of dawn was a red streak across the sky as she climbed onto the motorcycle. She heard a wolf howl and saw a dark shadow race into the trees.

Trace. He’d gotten away. He was safe. Eve sucked in a deep breath of that fresh, mind-clearing air. Trace was safe . . .

And his house was being gutted.

The motorcycle roared to life. Cain had jumped on behind her, his body curved around hers. Eve gripped the handlebars and she drove that bike the hell out of there. She knew her motorcycles. Knew exactly how to handle them.

A hail of bullets rained down on them.

Eve swore and tried to steer the motorcycle in as much of a serpentine style as she could in order to avoid the bullets.

Cain’s fingers wrapped around hers. Held tight. Helped her to keep steering and to get them away from the hunters.

Then the bullets were distant echoes, whispers of thunder floating on the wind. The shooters were too far away to hit them. They’d have to give chase, have to keep hunting them, so she needed to get away as fast as possible.

Good thing she knew this area.

And the perfect safe house.

“Faster,” Cain whispered behind her.

The wind whipped her hair back and seemed to bite right through her clothes.

But she drove faster and held on to the handlebars as tightly as she could.

With rage building within him, Richard Wyatt watched the motorcycle disappear into the darkness.

“Sorry, sir,” one of the hunters said to him, shaking his head. “We weren’t expecting that much power and—”

Excuses. He’d warned them just how powerful Cain could be. “How many bullets did you put into Subject Thirteen?”

That had been his real goal. Killing Thirteen. Capture would have been good, but this way . . . this way he got to experiment a bit more. Every time Thirteen died, Richard learned so much more about his test subject.

The human swallowed and glanced away, his gaze heading toward the small patch of road that Eve had used when she escaped. “We hit him . . . hell, at least four times. The guy just didn’t go down.”

He would. With four bullets in his body, Thirteen would be going down. Sooner or later.

Richard tapped his chin and then gave the order. “Follow them.”

“And the wolf?”

That big, snarling beast that had rushed into the woods? “Forget him.” Wolves were a dime a dozen. But Thirteen and Eve Bradley, they were special.

The guard turned away to carry out Wyatt’s orders. Richard didn’t move, not at first. He stared down that twisting road. Hit four times. Wonderful.

If the bullets didn’t kill Thirteen, then the blood loss probably would.

And what would happen to Eve when Cain burned . . . and rose? Did she have any idea how dangerous the beast was when he first rose?

Probably not. Sometimes, Cain was able to hold on to some of his sanity when he rose.

Sometimes . . .

But on other risings, the beast took total control. Fire. Hell. Fury. Death.

Eve was about to learn a whole lot more about her new lover. She just might not survive her discoveries.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Cain couldn’t move his feet. They hung limply, scraping over the road.

Did Eve realize what a deadweight he was on her?

That last bullet had lodged low in his spine. His fingers were working—barely—but he couldn’t feel his legs.

And the blood had already soaked his clothes. Too many bullets. Too many injuries.

He knew when death was coming.

Fuck. Eve needed to get away from him. But he couldn’t tell her. Couldn’t do anything but slump over her and try to hold on.

I’m sorry.

For what would come next.

She’d taken the motorcycle over so many roads, then off the roads. They were on a long, lonely field in the middle of nowhere. The engine growled softly, the only sound that Cain could hear.

When he saw the small, stark cabin rising before him, Cain knew Eve had thought to bring them to a safe house. Pity, no house would be safe enough for them.