Burn For Me (Phoenix Fire #1)(7)
Author: Cynthia Eden

But it had killed him.

The guards dragged her away and her scream seemed to bounce off the walls of her new hell.

The fire consumed his flesh, burning him from the inside out. Cain sucked in a breath and tasted the ash on his tongue. The changes were coming faster now, harder, hotter, and with each change . . .

He felt the darkness inside him growing.

Kill. Destroy.

The whispers were there—coming from the beast he’d tried hard to keep locked away for so many years.

Death brought the darkness closer. Made him lose more of the man he’d once been.

Turned him into the beast that destiny had designed him to become.

He put his hands on the floor. Pushed up. Saw the fire slide across the hard stone of his room, then die away.

Rising, he sucked in more breaths. He didn’t want the taste of ash on his tongue, he wanted her. Eve.

The beast snarled, and the flames flared higher. He stared through the window. They were watching. Always watching.

They didn’t realize what they’d unleashed. Their f**king games. Each death only made him stronger. More dangerous.

As the man faded and the beast quickened within him . . . more f**king dangerous.

The echo of the woman’s screams pierced his ears. She’d tried to help him.

Why?

“The woman is secure.” That damn voice. Driving him insane. “Don’t worry,” the voice continued, “we’ll take good care of her.”

The flames began to die away. He had to swallow back the fire, again and again, before he could manage speech. “I don’t give a shit what you do to her.”

Soft laughter. “Yes, you do.”

He didn’t move. He knew his eyes would still be burning with fire, and he wanted one of those ass**les to come inside. To just come close enough to touch . . .

“You still remember her.” The voice—Wyatt—sounded pleased. “You remember who you are . . . after our fifth experiment, you couldn’t remember anything, not for days.”

Because the beast had taken over. Too much darkness. Wyatt and his army of lab coats didn’t get it. They weren’t just playing with fire when it came to him. They were playing with hell.

When the beast broke free—can’t hold him back much longer—there would be no stopping him. He’d destroy everyone and everything around him.

Even her.

Sometimes, the risings were harder than others. Sometimes, he lost hold of what little humanity he had because he wanted that darkness and fire. He wanted to kill and destroy.

This time . . . this time, it had been different. He’d held on. . . .

Why?

For . . . her?

Cain shook his head, lost, body aching, beast clawing him from the inside. “Wyatt, this is your last chance . . .” Because he was done holding back. His control wasn’t strong enough to last through another death. He couldn’t do it. There just wasn’t enough power left within him. Can’t hold back the beast. “Let me go or watch everyone here burn.”

The doctor stepped back from the mirror. Because he was afraid. Hiding behind his experiments, acting like he didn’t get off on causing pain to others.

Eve. Her name whispered through Cain’s mind.

Wyatt’s chin lifted. “You burn us, then you burn her.”

Arrogant dick. “I don’t care about her.” Cain had just met her. Why should he—

“Then you would have let her die in the gas. You would have snapped her neck.” Satisfaction all but purred in Wyatt’s voice. “But you let her live.”

Mistake. The doctor always watched him too closely. He should have known . . . Eve was just another experiment.

“Yeah, well,” Cain turned away from that two-way mirror. “Maybe I just wanted a f**k and she was the first good-looking woman I’d seen since you threw my ass in here.” How long ago? He couldn’t even remember.

If he’d been imprisoned by normal steel, he would have escaped easily.

There was nothing normal about his imprisonment. The chains that bound him were made of some experimental metal that even his enhanced strength couldn’t break. But Eve had loosened one lock for him.

He glanced down. The fire had incinerated the pick set.

But one lock was open . . .

He could work with that.

Cain smiled and knew that the doctor didn’t see his grin. Good . . . better for Wyatt to be surprised when hell came for him.

Would the prick still be smiling when the flames began to eat his flesh?

It was twelve hours before Cain’s cell door opened again. A few moments before the door opened, the length of his chains had retracted, the way they usually did right before a guard came inside.

They pulled back the leash so he wouldn’t attack.

He expected a guard to come in first. Maybe Wyatt.

But Eve entered the room.

She was pale, paler than before, and still wearing the tight jeans and loose top she’d had on during the night. Her gaze swept over him, lingering a moment on the locks near his wrists.

Wyatt gave her a push, and she stepped fully into the room. “I’ve brought a present,” he announced.

Eve’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not a damn present.”

Wyatt just laughed. Why didn’t his superiors see that the guy was a nut job? Or did they just not care? As long as he got the job done, maybe it didn’t matter how ass-crazy he was.

Wyatt was doing one killer job of breaking the supernaturals. Of experimenting on them, slicing them up. Finding out just what made them tick.

So he could try to splice their genetics and make a whole new breed of monsters. Unstoppable soldiers who truly fed on fear and blood. Cain had been held captive long enough to figure out exactly what was going on in that place. And it wasn’t like Wyatt had tried to keep things secret from him. Hell, at first, he’d even thought that Cain should appreciate the damn genius of his plans.

Genius?

Insanity.

Wyatt’s laughter faded as his gaze swept back to Eve. “What you are, Ms. Bradley, is a reporter, which is something altogether . . . annoying.”

A reporter? Hell. Cain kept his expression blank as he waited to see what game the doc would play next.

But Eve straightened her shoulders. “Damn straight I’m a reporter, and that means I can’t just vanish. People know I’m here. They’ll be looking for me.”

“There might not be anything left for them to find,” Wyatt told her, shrugging, and not appearing the slightest bit concerned. “Wouldn’t that be a crying shame?”