Playing With Fire (Phoenix Fire #3)(38)
Author: Cynthia Eden

But her poison destroyed the virus—and the vampires.

“What the hell are they? I’ve never seen vampires like them.”

“Genesis made them. They were supposed to be super soldiers.” Her gaze was on that still vampire. The fire that Dante had sent out—burning so bright and hard—lit the scene. The man was definitely dead. Pity. He looked to be so young, barely twenty. “But Genesis just made a virus that took over its host. The progression is fast, so fast . . . all the host soon knows is bloodlust and hunger.”

A bloodlust that could never be fully slaked.

“One bite,” she whispered, “that’s all it takes.”

Dante’s hold on her tightened. “Are you sure you won’t turn?”

She tilted her head to study him. He’d destroyed the other vampires so easily. “Would you kill me, if I did?”

“Will you turn?” He shook her once, and she could see a stark expression of—was that fear?—in his eyes.

“I can’t,” she said softly. “I’ve been bitten by primals before.” Her head shook. “I don’t turn.”

Her blood was poison to them. Not a cure.

“This is why I need you,” she whispered. “These men were probably normal humans until recently. If we can find a cure, we can stop this. But if we don’t, I’m scared the primals will take over.” Especially if they were mutating on their own, getting even stronger.

The primals should never have been allowed out of Genesis. But when the facility had fallen in the mountains, some had escaped and gone on a feeding frenzy.

Dante’s gaze locked with hers.

“We have to stop them,” she said again.

He gave a grim nod. But then he stiffened and whirled from her.

“Dante!”

He was running away from the fire. Toward the swamp. Toward the man who was staggering toward them.

Cassie rushed after him.

But then he stilled, stopping just a few feet from the man.

He wasn’t a man. A boy. Maybe thirteen. Fourteen. Covered in scratches and bruises. His eyes were wide and desperate. “Please,” he whispered, “please kill me.”

Cassie shook her head.

Dante said, “Show me your teeth. Show me your hands.”

Those were nearly the same words that had been given to them.

She could already see the boy’s hands. They weren’t lined with claws. And his teeth—the boy opened his mouth.

No fangs.

“I don’t want to be . . . like them. . . .” His breath panted out. “I saw—saw what you did.” He lunged forward, caught Dante’s hand, and put it right over his chest. “Kill me,” he begged again.

“Dante, don’t!” She grabbed for the boy.

He started to cry. “My . . . brother was the one with the shotgun. I don’t want to be—”

“You’re not infected!” Cassie said, then she looked up at Dante’s face. He’d said that he smelled the . . . rot . . . from the others. “Is he?”

Dante shook his head. “You shouldn’t beg for death.”

The boy shuddered. “It has to be . . . better . . .”

“No, it doesn’t. Not if hell waits for you.”

She thought the boy might faint. He was sure weaving. “Are you Jamison?” The guy had said that Jamison ran into the swamp.

A weak nod. “J-Jamie . . .”

“Jamie, what happened?”

“Vampires . . . attacked everyone. W-we staked as many as we could . . . then . . . the others started to change.”

And he’d run. She looked back up at Dante.

His face could have been carved from stone.

“We can’t leave him out here alone.”

Dante jerked his hand away from the boy. “He isn’t my concern.” Dante caught Cassie’s hand in his. Tried to pull her away.

She wasn’t in the mood to be pulled. “More primals could be in the area. We can’t just leave him to die.”

“Why not?” Dante shrugged. “It’s what he wanted to do.”

Cassie wanted to slug him.

“And what of the others?” Dante asked. “The more that you talk about so much, Cassie. Are we supposed to go out and save every human in the area?”

“Th-they killed all those vampires who came,” Jamie whispered.

“You want to save the world,” Dante said, eyes seeming to gleam in the dark. “I don’t.”

“I’m not asking for the world.” Not right at that particular moment, anyway. She glanced over at Jamie. “I’m asking for him.”

She was pretty sure that Dante growled.

Then he said, “We can’t fit him on the motorcycle.”

“Th-there’s a truck, my brother’s truck, a few feet back there.” Jamie threw his thumb over his shoulder.

Dante swore.

Cassie glanced at Jamie. “Do you have any other family?”

“N-no, ma’am. It was . . . just me and Tim.”

And she’d killed Tim. She couldn’t let the boy die, too. “You’re coming with us.”

Even in the faint light cast from the moon and stars, the hope that lit his face was painful to see.

Dante was still swearing.

“Is he . . . What is he?” Jamie asked as he wiped his hands over his cheeks. She suspected that the boy was wiping away tears.

“I’m not a hero,” Dante said flatly.

No, he isn’t. “He’s the man who’ll keep us safe.”

Dante glanced at her but was silent. After a moment, he gave a grim nod.

Jamie’s breath rushed out then he was running and leading them toward the old pick-up.

He climbed into the bed of the truck.

Cassie slid into the front with Dante.

He caught her hand. “Why?”

She frowned at him.

“Why do you care about saving people?”

When your family business was wrecking lives, you have a whole lot to make up for. “I didn’t save those vampires.”

“The only way to save them was death.”

She flinched. “There has to be more than that, even for vampires.”

His hold tightened. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want my family to have only been monsters, okay?” Is that so crazy? “I want to help, not destroy everything I touch.”

His touch was warm against her flesh. Heating with the phoenix’s power. “Why not?” His voice had hardened. “It’s what I do.” His hand pulled away from hers. “After a while, you might even start to like the destruction.”