Burn For Me (Phoenix Fire 1)
Page 4Eve memorized that code. Because what locked a man in . . . might just be able to let him out.
Then they all were racing back to that two-way mirror. Because it wasn’t just smoke rising from Thirteen’s body any longer. Flames were covering him.
“Oh, my God.” The stunned whisper slipped from her.
Thirteen’s head turned. Through the flames, he gazed at her.
Every muscle in her body tightened with pure terror. She’d never seen anything like this before. How? How could he be standing? He was standing now. Not on his knees any longer. Not hanging from the chains. Standing.
The flames slowly died. They’d melted his clothes away. Ash drifted around him. Thirteen stood there, naked, strong, his body absolutely perfect.
No sign of the bullet wound that had ended his life.
Only . . . his life hadn’t really ended, and he was still watching her.
“W-what is he?” Eve managed to ask.
Thirteen pulled on the chains that still bound him. Chains that had to be impervious to fire.
“I don’t know . . .” Wyatt told her, and there was no missing the excitement that hummed in his words, “but I’m going to find out.”
Thirteen’s gaze cut to the doctor.
He sees us. She didn’t know how, but the man who should have been dead could see right through that protective glass.
“Another successful experiment.” Wyatt turned away from the observation mirror and headed toward the corridor that lead back to his office. “Tomorrow, we’ll try drowning. It will be interesting to see if the test subject’s flames burn through the water . . .”
Tomorrow, we’ll try drowning.
Dr. Richard Wyatt was some kind of seriously messed-up Frankenstein scientist. She put her hand to the glass. She didn’t know what Thirteen was, but she couldn’t let Wyatt keep torturing him.
“I’ll stop him,” she whispered.
But Thirteen shook his head. Then he mouthed two simple words: I will.
Richard Wyatt glanced over his shoulder just in time to see Eve put her hand to the glass—as if she were trying to touch the test subject. She should have been terrified, desperate to get away after what she’d just witnessed.
The others had been.
But, no, she was still there, staring in fascination at Subject Thirteen. Just as the subject was staring back at her.
How absolutely perfect. The experiment had been even more productive than he could have hoped. This new development could open up a whole world of unexpected possibilities.
A perfect killing machine. An immortal assassin.
One that only he could control.
The experiment had been a definite success. He could hardly wait for tomorrow’s show to start.
Those flames were so beautiful. Would they burn Eve’s delicate skin? Or would Thirteen finally start to show his true strength?
For her sake, Thirteen had better hold on to his control. Because the lovely Eve wouldn’t just be an observer for tomorrow’s event.
CHAPTER TWO
Eve slipped silently down the corridor that led to Subject Thirteen’s holding room. The facility was dead quiet—nearly everyone had retired for the night and the place was on lockdown.
She’d pretended to retire, too. Gone inside the staff dorms and made a big show of shutting down for the night. Then at 2:00 A.M., she’d known it was time to make her move.
Staff dorms—all the research personnel were given rooms at the facility. Once you took the job, you didn’t leave.
And how creepy was that?
Wyatt had said the lodging requirement was to keep his research protected. That all personnel would be well compensated for the time they spent at Genesis. But . . .
But she’d found a hidden camera in her dorm. Since when was it okay to video employees in their private rooms?
She crept around the corner. Thirteen’s room was just a few feet away. No guard at the door. Perfect. She’d go in, not get too close—didn’t want to burn, after all—and get his side of the story.
Then she’d see about getting them both out of there before anyone else knew what was happening.
They’d shot him. Actually freaking shot the guy. Why? Just to watch him die?
Wyatt was a twisted jerk, and she was getting this story to the press as fast as she could.
Her fingers trembled as she hurriedly punched in Wyatt’s security code. She’d always been good at memorization. One of her little quirks.
The lock slid open with a soft hiss. Fingers trembling, Eve pushed open the heavy metal door. The interior of Thirteen’s room was pitch black. The place reminded her of a tomb—she hated tombs.
“Ah . . . hello?” she whispered as she crept into the room. “Can you—”
Rough hands grabbed her—one locking tight around her waist, one circling her throat—as she was hauled back against a rock-hard body.
A body that wasn’t still chained to the back wall.
She grabbed at the hand around her throat, struggling to suck in the breath he’d taken from her. “P-please . . .”
“Candy.” His growl. In the next instant, he’d spun her around and shoved her against a wall. Her eyes fought to adjust to the darkness, and, finally, she saw the dark image of Thirteen appear before her. A big, thick shadow that seemed to surround her as his arms caged her to the wall.
Wait, he was still chained. Only the chains stretched much longer now. Long enough for the guy to be strolling around the room and grabbing good Samaritans who were only trying to help him.
And he still had his hand around her throat. But he wasn’t trying to strangle her anymore. His fingers seemed to almost be . . . caressing her.
“L-let me go.” Better he not touch her at all. When a guy could do a serious flame-on, those hands of his needed to stay away from her person.
But he didn’t let her go. Crap. Eve held herself perfectly still and said, “Please. I’m here to help you.”
“If you’re one of them . . .” His voice was a grating whisper, such a threat in the dark, “then you’re just here for the latest game of torture.”
Eve shook her head. Wait. He could see that, couldn’t he? He’d seen through the two-way mirror. Surely he could see in the darkness.
“I . . . tried to stop them.” She had. Like it had done much good. But her words sounded weak. Should have tried harder.