Once Bitten, Twice Burned (Phoenix Fire #2)(25)
Author: Cynthia Eden

“Guess I’m not a helper that way.” Ryder gazed back at him. “What happened to the whole, ‘I’m not interested in birth, but transformation’ bit?”

“That was before,” Wyatt replied flatly.

“Before?”

“Before I knew just what you were!”

“The fangs and blood-drinking didn’t give me away?” Ryder asked, baiting. “And here I thought we’d long ago established that I was a vamp. Your science really must not be that good.”

The flush deepened on Wyatt’s face. “I knew you were a vamp, but I didn’t know you were the first.”

“Back to that, are we?”

“A child with your DNA, Twenty-Nine’s DNA—that would be a transformation.”

Or an abomination, depending on the person you asked.

Wyatt yanked a rough hand through his hair. “Don’t you get it? We need a cure!”

“I’m not sick. I don’t need anything.” He’d never been sick. Never would. A vampire didn’t—

“I’m not the only one who did experiments.” Hushed. And yes, Wyatt tossed a nervous glance over his shoulder. Thought the big boss wasn’t worried about someone overhearing him. “Some of those experiments, they went damn wrong.”

Ryder forced a shrug. “Then I bet you terminated them.” Wasn’t that the guy’s MO? To terminate his failed experiments? When he’d broken free, Ryder had caught the scent of death. Bodies. So many.

A rough laugh escaped Wyatt. “Sometimes, it’s harder to terminate experiments than you think.” His eyes blazed at Ryder. “Imagine vampires who didn’t retain their humanity. Vamps who were just killing machines, beasts with fangs and claws that have only the most basic of primal instincts—the instincts to kill and feed.”

Ryder didn’t let his expression alter. He did casually pull on the chains, testing them.

“Those aren’t going to break.” Wyatt waved his hand with a disgusted air. “It’s a new metal, one we’re having to use on another subject, too. Subject Thirteen has proven too strong.”

“Subject Thirteen,” Ryder repeated. So the mad doc was giving them all numbers now. “What’s he? A vamp? A shifter?”

Wyatt’s eyes narrowed. “Cain’s like Sabine, of course.”

A phoenix.

“Just stronger,” Wyatt shook his head. “I’d hoped that Cain—Subject Thirteen—might be able to stop the—”

“The vampires? The ones who’ve gone all primal on you?” Ryder cut in, voice mocking. His gaze lasered in on Wyatt’s. “All vamps have fangs and claws. That’s not exactly a newsflash.” He raised his own growing claws. “So forgive me if I don’t give a shit.”

“These vampires are different. Don’t you get that? Every tooth is sharpened to a killing edge. Every tooth is a fang.” Wyatt bit out these words. “Their claws are long, black, sharper than knives, and they never retract. The vamps stay in killing form, day and night, and the hunger they feel can never be quenched.”

Ryder’s brows climbed. “Sounds like someone made the wrong kind of monster.” Bastard, is this why you took my blood? To make more of them? Because the world needed more monsters.

“You could be the cure for them. Maybe the cure for all vampires.” Wyatt wiped a hand over his sweaty forehead. Huh. Looked like the doc was starting to fray at his edges. “You are the first, aren’t you?”

“No, not even close,” Ryder said, voice as mild as could be.

Wyatt frowned at him. “Liar. You think I don’t know? I saw what you did to Donaldson—”

“And where is he?” Ryder had to ask. He was vaguely curious about the guard. He’d tried to reach out to him a moment before and felt nothing.

“Dead.” Said without a hint of remorse.

Figured. “And the doc? Thomas?” Ryder hadn’t tried to link with him yet. He wanted to wait until he didn’t have an audience.

“Jim Thomas is a test subject now.”

Poor human. Yes, Ryder was almost feeling sympathy for him.

“Those vamps,” Wyatt muttered. “We have to find a cure for them.”

“Yes, well, good luck with all of that.” Ryder crossed his arms over his chest, and the chains rattled. “Maybe if you’d let me the f**k out of here . . .” And if you gave me Sabine . . . “Maybe then I’d be in more of a helping mood.”

Wyatt shook his head. “The blood they were given—the blood wasn’t pure enough. That must have been why they had the breakdown with their cells.”

Ryder forced his muscles to remain loose and relaxed.

“They were soldiers . . .” Was Wyatt just talking to himself now? Looked that way—crazy jerk. “Their minds should have been strong enough. Their bodies strong enough. Vamp and Lycan DNA—they were going to be stronger.”

Hold the hell up. “You spliced vamp and shifter blood?”

“Wolf shifter blood,” Wyatt snapped. “Lycan—”

“And you created some crazy-ass monster that you can’t control? How can you be surprised by that?” That was what happened when you played God. You created the devil.

Hell came to earth.

“You can be the cure.”

Ryder shook his head. “You kill your test subjects left and right. Why the hell haven’t you just taken these guys out? Failed experiments, right?” He tossed back at the guy. “I’d think you’d just get rid of them—”

Wyatt’s shoulders straightened. Behind the thin frames of his glasses, his eyes hardened. “Normally, I do.” The words were cold. Crisp. Ah, so he was trying to pull back his control. Crazy. “But these beings are immune from disease. They don’t age. They can kill savagely, perfectly. They can communicate on a psychic level—”

This just got better. But Ryder said, “Bullshit,” because the story was too impossible. He hoped it was.

“You’ll see.” Wyatt turned away from him. “Soon enough, I’ll show you what was created.”

The guy was heading for the door. “You said ‘us’ before,” Ryder called out.

Wyatt paused.

“You wanted a cure for ‘us,’ ” Ryder reminded him, focusing on the word that had first caught his attention. “So you’re one of the freaks, too?” I already knew that.