Burn For Me, Page 2

  “Proceed.” Ah, now Wyatt sounded pissed.

  Eve was rushing inside. “Get away from him!” she yelled at the guard. “Drop your weapon and just—”

  The guard fired.

  The bullet drove right into Cain’s heart. He heard the thud as it tunneled into his flesh. Felt the sharp tear as it ripped through his heart. One instant of time. Two.

  His gaze met Eve’s. Her eyes—so blue—widened and her lips parted in a scream he didn’t hear.

  Too late. Cain was already dead.

  Blood bloomed on Thirteen’s chest. The bullet had blasted right into him—straight into his heart.

  Eve ran toward him, ignoring the gun that the guard was slowly lowering. Fucking killer. Shooting a chained man. Yeah, that was fair.

  Thirteen’s legs had given way, but the chains had stopped him from crashing onto the floor. His head sagged forward, hanging limply.

  Her hands slid under his jaw, and she tilted his head back. Oh, damn. His eyes were closed, his lashes casting heavy shadows on his cheeks. Her breath whispered over him. “I’m sorry.” She should have moved faster. Knocked out the guard. Done something to save this man.

  Instead, she’d just watched him die.

  “You need to step away from the test subject, Dr. Bradley,” Wyatt said, his voice not on the intercom, but coming from behind her.

  Eve stiffened. “You just murdered a man in cold blood.” She’d never expected to discover this. Experiments were one thing. Murder was a whole damn other sin.

  One that wouldn’t be forgiven.

  Her fingers brushed lightly through Thirteen’s hair. She’d said she would help him.

  “He’s not a man.” Wyatt sounded amused. “You know that. No humans are test subjects in this facility. Genesis only recruits paranormals.”

  Fury had her shaking. “Human or supernatural . . . you killed him.” She glanced back at Wyatt and the guard. Both were standing a good ten feet away from her.

  Wyatt shrugged. “It’s part of the experiment.”

  What?

  He huffed out a frustrated breath. “You really should step away. If you don’t, well, I’m sorry, but I can’t guarantee your safety.”

  Insane. The doc was a mental case, and as soon as she got out of this joint, she’d blast her story loud and proud to every media outlet in the country. She’d shut down this hellhole if it was the last thing she ever did.

  Sure, some folks were hesitant about the supernaturals, but no one was going to accept a killing facility. No one would—

  Thirteen moved, just a bit, beneath her touch.

  “Step back, Doctor Bradley.”

  Was that fear in Wyatt’s voice? Eve couldn’t tell, and since she wasn’t looking at him, there was no way to read the emotion that might be on his face. Her attention was on Thirteen because . . . she could’ve sworn that she’d just felt him take a breath.

  Impossible.

  Sure, vampires could survive an assortment of attacks, but this guy was no vampire. Eve would bet her life on that. She’d seen him die. It was—

  His lashes lifted. His eyes locked on her. Only his eyes weren’t black anymore. They were red, burning like flames. Burning so bright—burning, burning . . .

  Hard hands yanked Eve back. She fell onto the floor, dragging Wyatt and the guard down with her. Their hands were on her. They were the ones pulling her away from Thirteen.

  But almost instantly, Wyatt and Mitchell were back on their feet, and hauling her across the room with them.

  Eve let them drag her away, but she couldn’t take her gaze off Thirteen. Smoke was rising from his flesh, as if he were burning from the inside. That gaze—it looked like she was staring straight into hell. A man’s eyes shouldn’t flicker with fire.

  His did.

  The smoke rising from his body began to thicken.

  “Out!” Wyatt’s bark. The guard grabbed one of her hands. Wyatt grabbed the other. They all stumbled out into the hallway. Wyatt closed the door and quickly punched in a security code to lock the room down.

  Eve 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 . . .”

  Eve didn’t move. She couldn’t.

  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.

  She’d be a participant.

  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.

  No sound from inside reached her, and her breathing seemed far too ragged in that thick silence. But Eve tiptoed inside and made sure to seal the door behind her.

  “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.

  He grunted. Okay, she could understand him not being grateful, particularly since he’d gotten shot in the heart and her help had done zero good.

  “What are you?” The question slipped out. She couldn’t help it. Curiosity had always been a weakness for her—and one of the reasons she was a reporter.

  Thirteen let his hand fall away. The chain slipped over his skin and rattled softly. “I’m someone you don’t want to piss off.”

  Check. She got that. She’d actually gotten that part the minute the guy had burst into flames. “You said . . . you said you weren’t here willingly.”

  He took a step back, distancing his body from hers. “Do they know you’re in here with me?”

  “No.” Though she wasn’t sure how much longer that would last, so they needed to cut through some of the chitchat. “By the time they do, we’ll both be gone.”

  He laughed then, a rough bark of sound.

  Being alone with him in the dark was too intimate. Her senses were hyperaware of every move that he made. Every time the chain rattled, her body tensed.

  “Just where do you think we’re going?” Thirteen wanted to know. “In case you didn’t notice, they’ve got me on a fucking leash.”

  A leash that they obviously lengthened when they weren’t getting ready to shoot him. Interesting. She figured the chain must be able to lengthen or shorten from its feed in the wall. Eve exhaled slowly and tried to calm her heartbeat. No dice. “Wyatt is planning to . . . to drown you tomorrow.” Just saying the words had her stomach clenching.

  He grunted. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  Uh, okay. “How about I’m damn good at picking locks?” She reached into her pocket and pulled out her penlight. She flashed it on, and the light hit his chest. A bare chest. Rippling with muscles. Whoever—whatever—Thirteen was, the guy was seriously built.

  She lowered the light to the chain that connected to his right wrist. “I can get you out of those.”

  Silence.

  “Don’t you want to get out?” Eve pressed because it wasn’t exactly the reaction she’d been expecting. “Or am I wrong? You said you didn’t volunteer—”

  “I was sold into the program.”

  That gave her pause. “Sold? What do you—”

  “A soon-to-be-dead shifter named Jimmy Vance is making deals with Wyatt. Setting up paranormals for the bastard to collect and cashing in when we get caged.”

  Her heart raced faster. “You’re saying there are others who aren’t here voluntarily, too?” That was what she’d suspected—why she’d risked so much to get inside Genesis.

  “I’m saying the real experiments, the ones that Wyatt won’t let the world see . . . they’re all performed on those of us who are being kept prisoners.” He yanked on the chains and the metal groaned. “Tell me, do I really look like I’m here fucking voluntarily?”

  “You’re so strong . . .” She wasn’t just talking about the he-man muscles. That fire-light show had been impressive. “Why can’t you just break out?”

  “Fireproof.” He growled the words. “The walls are reinforced with steel and titanium and some damn other mix he created, and Wyatt made sure my own private hell could withstand any heat I sent at it.”

  From what she’d seen, he could send plenty of heat.

  She inched toward him and eased her lock-picking set from her pocket. Eve knew how to be prepared—though she’d never been a Girl Scout. More of a juvenile delinquent. “I want your promise that you won’t hurt me.” This was a risk, she knew that. Trusting him could be insanity.

  But I’m not going to let Wyatt drown the guy. No way. They were getting out now, long before Wyatt had a chance to hurt this man again.

  Thirteen’s hand reached for her. She almost flinched away. Almost.

  But Eve had learned it was best to face the monsters in the dark with a brave face. She wasn’t new to the monster world. Sure, most folks had been shocked ten years ago when the first vamps appeared, but she hadn’t been surprised. She’d known about monsters since before she could even walk.

  His fingers weren’t rough against her skin. Eve had expected them to be. The gentleness made her feel. . . strange. He touched her cheek. Her lips. “Would you trust what I say?” he asked, voice quiet.

  Did she have much choice? “Tell me your name,” she breathed the words against his hand.

  Her light cast darker shadows on his face. “Cain.” He touched her lips again, then pulled his hand back. “Cain O’Connor.”

  I’m hungry. Why, oh, why, did she have to remember those particular words right then?

  Her heart double-timed inside her chest. “Cain, I think we have to trust each other here.” She dropped to her knees beside him and shined the light on the links of metal that circled his wrists. There was a locking mechanism there. Her fingers brushed over the soft fabric of his jogging pants. Well, at least the guy wasn’t naked anymore.

  But he’d sure stiffened at her touch.

  “It will only take a few moments,” Eve told him as she began to position her tools. “It will—”

  “We don’t have a few moments.”

  That was the only warning she got. In the next instant, the lights flooded on in Cain’s room. He grabbed her, yanked her to her feet, and put her body ri
ght in front of his as they faced the two-way mirror.

  “Dr. Bradley . . .” Wyatt’s drawling voice floated to them. “I don’t remember giving you permission to visit Subject Thirteen tonight.”

  Shit, shit, shit.

  And, um, why was Cain’s hand around her throat again? “I-I was worried about him.” True. “After what happened . . .” She let the words trail off and tried to look suitably pitiful and lost. Not overly hard at that exact moment. “I just wanted to . . . check on him.”

  She’d already shoved her lock pick back into her pocket. Her penlight had fallen to the floor.

  And Cain was still caging her against him.

  “Unlock the chains!” Cain called out. His voice was a lethal snarl. “Or I’ll kill her.”

  Wow. Wait, that hadn’t been part of the deal. Eve yanked against him. He didn’t budge. But his left hand skimmed lightly down her side. Like he was trying to soothe her.

  Since he’d just threatened to kill her, Eve didn’t feel particularly soothed.

  “Unlock the chains!” Cain demanded. “Or watch her die.”

  When there was no response, his next words cut like a knife. “I can guarantee you, Wyatt, she won’t come back.”

  No, she wouldn’t.

  “She can be replaced,” was Wyatt’s calm-as-you please response. “You can’t.”

  Eve kicked back, knocking right into Cain’s shins. The guy didn’t so much as grunt.

  “Unlock the chains.” Cain’s fingers tightened around her throat.

  So much for trust. So much for it being them against Wyatt. So much for—

  A faint hiss began to fill the room.

  “Fuck,” Cain growled.

  She looked up, trying to track that hiss. There were small vents near the top of the ceiling. Was—was air coming in? No, not air, gas.

  “You remember our second experiment, don’t you?” Wyatt’s voice asked. So mellow. So . . . emotionless as his words drifted over the intercom. “I wanted to see if you could revive from poisonous gas.”

  Eve began to choke. She shoved her fingers into her pocket, pulled them back out, and began to claw at the hand around her throat—and that tight lock that surrounded Cain’s wrist.