Burn For Me (Phoenix Fire 1)

She realized that there was no recognition in Cain’s gaze. Just . . . darkness.

“I’m Eve,” she whispered as she stepped back. She swallowed, glanced down, and forced herself to reach for his hand. It’s Cain. He just needs a few minutes. Give him time. He’d risen before and still known her. He’d remember her this time, too. He just needed—hell, she wasn’t sure what. Time. “We have to go inside. It’s not safe here,” she said again.

“Why not?” Still flat. No emotion.

How long would it take before his memory came back? A few minutes? A few hours? If only she’d had the chance to read Wyatt’s notes on Cain. “We’re not safe because there are men after us. They want to kill me.”

That got no response. Not even a blink.

“And they want to kill you,” she added.

He shrugged. “I can’t die.” He smiled, and it was a smile with an edge of evil. “I’m sure they can die. I’ll just kill them and listen to them beg and scream.”

This wasn’t the guy she knew. Goose bumps rose on her arms. “Cain?”

Something was off. He was off.

He glanced toward her. “Scared?”

Hell, yes. “No. Of course not.” She straightened her shoulders. “Now come on. It’ll be light soon. Let’s get inside and figure out what we’re supposed to do next.”

She tugged his hand and he actually followed her into the small home. It was a bit dusty inside. Since seventy-two-year-old John Monroe had gone hitchhiking across the U.S. last June, no one had been there—which made the place perfect for hiding.

“Maybe we can find you some clothes and—”

He yanked her back against him. “I like the way you smell.”

Um, okay. “Cain, I—”

He kissed her. Deep and hard, driving his tongue into her mouth and locking his hands tightly around her. The kiss was wild, wicked, and dominant. He didn’t seduce her with his lips and tongue.

He took.

Her nails sank into his shoulders, and she turned her head away from him. The last time she’d had sex with him, it had turned into slam-bam-good-bye ma’am. He might be having some issues right then, but she wasn’t just going to offer herself up again.

Even if the sex had been fantastic.

He was kissing her throat. Licking her. Lightly nipping the flesh. “I remember”—his voice was a growl—“your taste.”

She wouldn’t ever be able to forget his. “Let me go.”

He didn’t speak, but pressed another kiss to the curve of her neck. Damn, but that was a weak spot for her. One lick there and she was already arching her hips against him.

Down girl. “Let me go,” she said again, the words harder. She’d give him ten more seconds, then she’d start punching.

His head lifted. He stared at her. Had his eyes always been so dark? Like midnight with no stars or moon—total darkness. His breath came out, ragged, and he said, “I can’t.”

Then he kissed her again.

She tasted the desperation in his kiss. The wild lust. And knew . . .

Something was very, very wrong with Cain.

Eve didn’t shove him away. Maybe she should have. But . . . she was afraid. Not of him. His fire didn’t scare her at all.

She was just terrified for him.

Her hands slid over his shoulders. Held him. Her mouth met his, but she fought to gentle the kiss. Her lips brushed over his. Her tongue stroked his.

Cain shuddered against her and his hold tightened even more.

Then he spun her around and pressed her back against the wall, caging her with his body.

His very aroused body.

His tongue slid over hers. The guy could really do some amazing things with that tongue and—

Cain’s head lifted. His eyes were still so dark. Lost. He stared down at her. “I remember your taste.”

That was, ah, something, right?

“Eve.” His voice was so low and rough.

She nodded.

His eyes squeezed shut and he turned his head away from her. “This . . . I’m trying to stop.”

He sounded like he was hurting. So bad.

Her hands were on his shoulders. Stroking his too-hot skin. “What’s happening to you?”

He flinched at her voice even as he seemed to turn in to her touch.

“Cain? You . . . you know me.” He hadn’t appeared to recognize her moments before. He’d just looked at her and lusted. Sometimes, a girl could enjoy being the focus of all that raw need.

Sometimes, she needed more.

His gaze met hers, and she saw the danger in his stare. “Even hell can’t make me forget some things.” His hand rose to her mouth. “I came back . . . wanting your taste again.”

Eve swallowed. “Cain?”

“I opened my eyes”—he pulled away from her and stood with his back to her—“saw you and thought . . .”

What? What had he thought?

“Mine,” Cain growled out the one word.

Her heart was about to race right out of her chest.

“You should leave. Run away from me.” Still in that dark, rough voice. One that sent shivers sliding over her because it was . . . sexy.

Danger had always been sexy to her.

Cain was definitely dangerous.

She wasn’t leaving. He’d helped her. She’d helped him. Didn’t he get it? They were a team.

Until this mess was over.

“I’m not going anyplace,” Eve told him and was rather proud of the firm sound of her own voice.

His back tensed. “You don’t know . . . how thin my control is right now.” He glanced back at her, and she saw the stark hunger etched on his face. “When I come back . . . I’m not the same . . . I need.”

She was getting that.

She was also thinking . . . He isn’t the only one who needs. “You’re not leaving me alone this time.”

He frowned at her. Still looked lost and angry and wild.

Eve licked her lips and his jaw locked. Her breath whispered out and she said, “This time, you don’t dump me at a truck stop and never look back.”

“Eve . . .”

She stepped toward him. Lifted her chin. “I want you, too.” The stark truth. Pride wasn’t going to hold her back. He needed. She needed.

Screw pride.

“If you dump me like that again, I will hunt your ass down.”

He was shaking his head. “This is your chance . . . go.”

Simply, she said, “No.”

And he took her. Pounced. Had her in his arms and pushed right back up against the wall behind her. She could almost hear the shredding of his control, and Eve didn’t care. She wanted his wildness. Wanted the lust and the fury and the pleasure.