Burn For Me (Phoenix Fire 1)

Cain held that cold stare. “I guess you’d know all about having a beast inside.” He didn’t like this bastard. Just what was his relationship with Eve? They were far too close.

Too close.

Jealousy burned in Cain’s gut.

Trace bared his growing fangs. “Yeah, I f**king would know.” He dropped his arms and stalked toward Cain. “She helped you, so now do her a favor . . .”

If Trace really knew what he was, then the wolf should be backing away, not coming closer. Unless he just wanted an ass-kicking.

The knot of jealousy spread within Cain.

“Get the hell away from Eve,” Trace told him bluntly. “Before she’s hurt again.”

The guy had him confused with someone who gave a shit about what he had to say. “She wants me close,” Cain murmured, not about to back down. Time to clear the air here. “So I’m not going anyplace.”

“Even if you put her at risk?”

Were the shifter’s claws starting to come out? They were. Fool. Fire trumped claws any day of the week. “I’m the one who can keep her safe.” The only one.

“Because you’re the big, tough, nightmare-myth, right?”

Myth. The word almost surprised him. It appeared that Trace did have a clue about just what Cain was. “Myths aren’t real.” Monsters were.

“Before my house—the house I damn well loved—got torched, I hacked into Wyatt’s computer.” Trace’s eyes showed only his cold rage as he studied Cain. “I read the files on you. I know what he did.”

“Good for you.” Cain tried not to let any emotion show on his face. He didn’t want to think about those days at Genesis.

“He killed you at least a dozen times.”

More. But Cain had stopped counting after a while. What had been the point?

“And each time you died, you rose back up. You burned and you rose.”

The shower had stopped. He could barely hear the faint drip, drip of the water.

“Silver bullets. Dismemberment.” Trace was rattling off a brutal list, and with every word he spoke, the memories flashed through Cain’s mind.

I was alive when they started dismembering me.

The bathroom’s wooden door opened. Eve stood there, dressed in the jeans and T-shirt that they’d picked up from a thrift store down the road. Her hair was wet, and her eyes were on Cain.

Trace locked his jaw and stopped talking. Finally.

Eve shook her head. “I want to hear this.” She was still pale, but she didn’t look as shell-shocked. Had she cried in the shower? Dammit, he hated that she hurt.

Wyatt would think nothing about the bombing at that shop. The people who’d died would just be collateral damage. Necessary sacrifices to achieve the big picture. Wyatt was all about the big picture.

Trace glanced at Eve. “You think you already know about him, don’t you?”

Her gaze lingered on Cain. “I know he didn’t set that shop on fire.”

“How do you know?” Trace demanded instantly. “Fire is his bitch to control, it’s—”

“His fire feels different.” She walked past the two men. Peeked out of the faded curtains, then turned back to face them. “That was a planned explosion. A bomb.” Her lips twisted. “Humans at work.”

Trace headed toward her and caught her wrist. Cain tensed. He didn’t like the handsy shifter. Not a f**king bit.

“He’s trouble, okay?” Trace said, leaning too close to Eve. Cain’s hands clenched as the werewolf continued, “Any being that can’t die—you don’t want to be around him.”

Eve’s gaze darted to Trace’s hand, then back to his face. “When you’ve got an army of trigger-happy jerks and a mad scientist after you, an unstoppable immortal is exactly who you need at your side.”

Her words slid over Cain like a warm caress, and he straightened his shoulders. The words weren’t the exact truth, though. He wasn’t immortal. He could be killed. Not by much, granted, but with the right weapon—

Her.

—he could taste his last death.

“Phoenix.” Trace tossed the word out like a curse. Maybe because that was what it was. “They’re not supposed to actually exist. But he”—Trace inclined his head toward Cain—“is real. And he’s one of the most dangerous monsters that I’ve ever met.”

Not one of the most. The most. The wolf needed to get his facts straight. And he needed to get his hands off Eve.

“He burns and he rises,” Eve said softly, her eyes on Cain.

“And ashes are left in his f**king wake,” Trace cut in. “Eve, shit, this is too dangerous for you. He’s too dangerous. Let’s get out of here and get you someplace safe.”

The wolf was pissing off Cain. Maybe it was time to singe some of that ass**le’s fur—

“No.” Eve’s voice. Sharp. Demanding. “Don’t even think about hurting him, Cain.”

“What?” Trace snarled and he swung around, claws out. “Oh, come on, pyro, you just—”

“Stop!” Eve held up her hands. The hands that were still scratched and red. “In case you two jerks missed it, we’re all being hunted. We don’t have time for this alpha crap.”

It wouldn’t take much time. Cain was sure he’d have the wolf fleeing in about, oh, five seconds.

Maybe even three.

“We have to stop Wyatt,” Eve said, rubbing her forehead, “before he hurts anyone else.”

Cain would lay odds that the guy was undoubtedly out hurting someone else right then.

“His prey got away. Genesis was destroyed.” She swallowed. “So he’s probably looking for new test subjects.”

“Yeah,” Trace drawled, “and you’re one of them, sweetheart.”

Cain’s eyes narrowed as he took a step forward. The wolf was far too damn familiar with Eve. Touching. Using endearments. Sweetheart—my ass. Trace needed to back the hell off.

Cain had cut the shifter some slack since he’d been there with that getaway vehicle in the city, but that slack—yeah, it was ending.

“I can’t be the only one,” Eve argued. “He’s not going to stop his experiments. Wyatt will be out looking for more paranormals.”

And Jimmy Vance wouldn’t be supplying that “more” any longer.

“I’m not just going to wait for him to come and find me again. He wants a hunt?” Eve demanded. “Then I’ll give him a hunt. I’ll hunt that bastard.”