Burn For Me (Phoenix Fire #1)(30)

Death took him.



The fire burst over his flesh, so bright that it lit up the sky. A giant blaze that burned so hot the ground was singed about five feet in every direction.

Eve stood back, watching. Not because she was afraid of the flames, but because she was afraid any move she made might stop the fire.

Cain wasn’t back yet, not fully. But …

Soon.

Her knees pushed into the dirt as she knelt and watched him. She’d tried to get them away from the city. She hadn’t even realized that he’d been hurt. Not this bad.

Bad enough to die.

He won’t stay dead. He hadn’t before. He’d come back. She knew he would return to her. He had to.

The fire raged hotter. She could barely see his body. The flames actually seemed to be roaring.

No. That wasn’t the flames.

That was Cain.

Because those flames were rising, he was rising. Standing up, spreading his arms out by his sides, and roaring his fury to the world.

She didn’t move.

The heat blasted around her and …

He turned to look at her. As the flames began to fade away, vanishing and leaving his golden, tanned flesh behind, unmarred, perfect, he stared at her.

His eyes still burned. She could see the flames flickering there.

What are you?

His hands were at his sides, his feet braced apart. The clothing had burned from his body, and her gaze swept over him. No more bullet wounds.

Only strong, hard flesh.

Her breath rasped out. “I knew you’d be okay.” Knew, hoped—same thing.

He took a step toward her. The flames in his eyes eased back into the normal darkness of his stare.

She offered him a smile and hoped that it didn’t look as desperate as it felt. “You scared me, though.” Her legs weren’t quite working yet, which was why she still knelt on the ground as he approached. “I don’t exactly like it when people die right in front of me.”

His death had brought back too many memories of the family she hadn’t been able to save. Of the flames and the fire that had taken them, but left her behind.

Don’t leave me. Daddy, Daddy, don’t leave!

But in the end, they’d all left her. She’d been so alone.

Eve took another deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “Well, now that you’re back, what are we going to—”

He pulled her off the ground and right up into his arms. Her words ended in a yelp as she lost her breath. He held her above the ground with his too-hot touch, letting her feet dangle a good foot in the air.

His gaze stared hard into her own. A faint furrow appeared between his brows, and the guy actually stared at her as if he had no clue who she was.

And that scared her. A lot. Because she’d seen what he did to the folks he considered his enemies.

“C-Cain?”

His head jerked at the sound of her voice.

“You’re hurting me,” she said, but the words weren’t quite the truth. His hold was strong, but not bruising. Didn’t matter though. She wanted down. There was something about his stare that chilled her.

And Cain wasn’t the chilling kind.

That furrow between his brows deepened, but he slowly lowered her to the ground once more. Then his head leaned toward her and he—had he just sniffed her?

She put her hands on his chest. “We need to go inside. It’s not safe out here.” They were in the middle of nowhere, so she was hoping no one had seen that blaze light the night, but if their pursuers were close enough …

We could be screwed.

“Who are you?”

Those words, stilted, flat, had her own eyes widening.

She realized that there was no recognition in Cain’s gaze. Just … darkness.

“I’m Eve,” she whispered as she stepped back. She swallowed, glanced down, and forced herself to reach for his hand. It’s Cain. He just needs a few minutes. Give him time. He’d risen before and still known her. He’d remember her this time, too. He just needed—hell, she wasn’t sure what. Time. “We have to go inside. It’s not safe here,” she said again.

“Why not?” Still flat. No emotion.

How long would it take before his memory came back? A few minutes? A few hours? If only she’d had the chance to read Wyatt’s notes on Cain. “We’re not safe because there are men after us. They want to kill me.”

That got no response. Not even a blink.

“And they want to kill you,” she added.

He shrugged. “I can’t die.” He smiled, and it was a smile with an edge of evil. “I’m sure they can die. I’ll just kill them and listen to them beg and scream.”

This wasn’t the guy she knew. Goose bumps rose on her arms. “Cain?”

Something was off. He was off.

He glanced toward her. “Scared?”

Hell, yes. “No. Of course not.” She straightened her shoulders. “Now come on. It’ll be light soon. Let’s get inside and figure out what we’re supposed to do next.”

She tugged his hand and he actually followed her into the small home. It was a bit dusty inside. Since seventy-two-year-old John Monroe had gone hitchhiking across the U.S. last June, no one had been there—which made the place perfect for hiding.