Once Bitten, Twice Burned

by Cynthia Eden

  “Why am I special?” She hadn’t meant to ask that, had she?

  His gaze held her prisoner. “Because I look at you, and I see the one person that I want most in this world.”

  Oh, okay, that was not what—

  Ryder gave a sharp, negative shake of his head. “It’s more. I look at you, and you remind me . . . you make me long for everything I lost so long ago.”

  Her breath whispered out. “What did you lose?”

  “Happiness. Hope. Peace.” A muscle jerked along his jaw. “And when I look at you, I see all of those things.”

  The vampire had just stunned her.

  “So, no,” now his voice roughened. “I wasn’t just going to stand there and let you burn, not when you were begging me to save you. Maybe it’s not the method you had in mind, but the blood exchange was the only option I had available to me.” His shoulders straightened. “And to be damn honest, if I had to do it all over again, I’d still try to change you. If that meant you didn’t burn, I’d do it again.”

  She didn’t know what to say to that. He was right. She’d hated the fire. Hated dying, coming back, and not knowing anything.

  Except she’d remembered him. Even after all of the flames and death, his image had come to her. Whispered through her mind. Her vampire.

  Sexy. Dangerous. So compelling.

  Powerful enough to push through the fire.

  A vampire.

  And I’m one now, too?

  “Come to bed with me,” he murmured the words as his head bent and his lips feathered over her cheek. “You’ve been through hell.”

  No, to hell.

  But he was so tempting. Still naked. All of those rippling muscles. That thick cock. Gorgeous male.

  “I can help you when the hunger comes.”

  Fucking and feeding. That was what vampires did, right? The pleasure that had rocked through her before suddenly had her feeling shamed.

  She’d had no control. Been just like an animal. Biting. Clawing. Would it always be that way? And when she did crave blood, would she be as desperate to satisfy her blood hunger as she’d been when she’d wanted sex with him?

  What if she killed someone? Took too much?

  “Sabine.”

  Her lashes lifted. He stared at her with such care in his eyes.

  “I will help you.”

  She thought he might be the only one who could. It wasn’t like she had some kind of supernatural Rolodex. He was the strongest paranormal that she knew, and, despite everything . . .

  I feel safe with him.

  “If you really want to help me”—she drew in a deep breath—“then take me home.”

  She had to see her family. Had to make sure that her brother was safe.

  But Ryder shook his head, and, with regret pulling at his handsome face, he told her, “I’m sorry, love, but you can’t go home again.”

  Her eyes narrowed. The hell I can’t.

  And Sabine knew that her time with the sexy vamp had come to an end.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Getting away from Ryder had been surprisingly easy. The man slept like the dead, literally. When she’d been sure that he was out, Sabine had just slipped away.

  Maybe he hadn’t expected her to leave. Maybe he’d thought that she was all after-sex slumberous. Maybe he’d thought she was the kind of girl who’d just turn her back on her family.

  He needed to damn well think again.

  She’d taken the truck. The one that he’d initially stolen. She’d ditched it at the first truck stop she came to, not wanting anyone to trail it.

  She’d hitched a ride with a real sweetheart of a female truck driver. Daisy had been sixty-seven, with a grin as wide as Tennessee, and the woman had sure liked to talk.

  She hadn’t noticed that Sabine didn’t exactly talk back much.

  Sabine had thought about calling her family. Checking in to let them know that she was alive and semi-well, but when she and Daisy had stopped at an old-school diner, Sabine had glanced up at the TV installed near the counter and seen the news stories about Genesis. Fire had filled the small TV screen. The reporters had been talking about the death toll at the two facilities.

  From all appearances, Genesis looked dead, but was it really? Maybe she was just being paranoid, but she didn’t want to take any chances. Especially after the nightmare that she’d been through for the last few weeks.

  She hadn’t wanted to make any phone calls. Hadn’t wanted to do anything that might give away her location. She just wanted—home.

  When Daisy left her in New Orleans, Sabine inhaled the scent of the river. Home. Finally. Darkness was falling, but the city shone at night. So many voices. Music drifting on the breeze.

  Rhett’s place wasn’t on Bourbon Street. No, his bar was more secret, more shadowed. She hopped on the trolley, holding tight to the bar as she slipped inside. The bell rang, and the trolley slid away from the stop. From her perch, she watched her city sweep by.

  And felt eyes watching her.

  Her shoulders tensed, and Sabine glanced around the trolley car’s interior. A family . . . tourists . . . they always had the same eager look. Some college kids, wearing their Tulane shirts. A couple holding hands in the back. And . . .

  And a guy, with a baseball cap pulled low over his head. Shoulders hunched, wearing a black T-shirt. A five o’clock shadow lined his jaw, and it looked like that jaw was turned away from her. As if the guy were paying her no attention.

  But Sabine’s body was on alert. Something was wrong.

  The trolley eased to a stop. She hadn’t planned to get off yet, but as soon as the trolley’s doors swished open, she rushed through them.

  Baseball cap jumped off the trolley, too.

  Not good.

  She pushed her damp palms against her jeans. Daisy, bless her sweet, big heart, had given Sabine enough cash to buy some clothes. And the lady hadn’t even asked her about the rips and bloodstains in her old clothes. A real sweetheart.

  As usual, New Orleans was hot, and Sabine was already starting to sweat. She hurried away from the trolley, wanting to find a place with as many people as possible. It was easier to vanish in a crowd.

  A glance over her shoulder showed Sabine that baseball cap was following behind her. Part of her wanted to just turn and confront him. If he was a Genesis goon, he wasn’t going to take her again.

  But another part of her, a smarter part, realized . . . You can’t conjure fire. Ryder said you were a vamp, but your fangs still aren’t there. If she confronted him and the guy came out fighting with a stake or a gun, just what the hell was she supposed to do?

  Get a weapon.

  That was what she needed to do.

  A crowd surrounded her as she slipped onto Decatur Street. There were always plenty of people in front of the shops. She eased through the crowd, bending and weaving, and, oh, a street performer wasn’t using his cane. It was just propped against the building behind him.

  Making a mental note to bring this guy back a very serious tip, Sabine grabbed the cane. Then she rushed to the left. She made sure that her body was distanced from everyone else, that she presented a very easy-to-see target . . . Come and get me.

  Then Sabine slipped down a side street. The flow of bodies was immediately muted. Not much to see here, so the tourists stayed away. Clutching tight to the cane, she flattened her body against a brick wall. She lifted the cane, holding it like a bat. She’d been all-state back on the girls’ softball team in high school, and her hits had been pretty legendary.

  If baseball cap came around that corner—

  He did.

  Sabine swung out with the cane, using all of her strength as she aimed for his chest.

  He caught the cane in his right hand. He stared down at the wooden cane for a moment, then he lifted his head. “This is your best weapon?”

  The weapon burned beneath his hands.

  Gasping, Sabine tried to jump back. Unfortunately, she was already against the wall
.

  Worst. Plan. Ever.

  She tried to sidle away then, but the man’s hand flew out—the same hand that had just burned that cane—and his fingers curled around her neck. “What happened to you?”

  She swallowed. He wasn’t blocking her airway. Wasn’t hurting her. Yet. “Mister, I don’t know who you are, but you’d better let me go.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Of course, you know who I am.”

  There was fire in his eyes.

  “I’m just like you,” he said.

  She couldn’t speak.

  His head cocked. “Or I was like you, but something’s different. Something’s blocking your fire.” He dropped his hold and stepped back. “Tell me what they did.”

  She forced her shoulders to straighten. “I don’t know. They killed me. Again and again—”

  He waved that away. “Why don’t you burn?”

  Because my vampire lover bit me. Changed me.

  “We kill each other,” he said. There seemed to be a note of regret in his voice. “It hardly seems fair, when you won’t burn.”

  Oh crap, he’d just threatened to kill her.

  “Didn’t even know that, did you?” For an instant, it almost looked as if pity flashed in his gaze. “Newborn,” he muttered. “Why do you think there are so few of our kind? We’re our own worst enemies.”

  “I-I don’t want to be your enemy.” She just wanted to be far away from him.

  “So little can truly kill us,” he said, as if he hadn’t even heard her words. “The death blow has to come through the fire.” His gaze narrowed. “We are the only ones who can reach through that fire.”

  So, um, was he saying that only a phoenix could ever really kill another phoenix? “I’m not interested in killing you.” Just so they could be clear.

  “But maybe I’m interested in killing you.”

  Hell. She’d hoped he wouldn’t say that.

  “I knew you’d be here.” His gaze raked her. “If they haven’t already, others will figure it out, too.”

  Others? “Genesis is dead and gone.” Since that stop at the diner, she’d managed to pick up other news stories about Genesis. A reporter had been undercover at Genesis. Every time Daisy had made a pit stop, Sabine had made a point of trying to learn more of the stories circulating about Genesis.

  From what she could tell, it looked like the tide was turning for the paranormals in the world. The media was giving them the sympathy, showing outrage for the suffering they’d been through at Genesis.

  The government was promising a full investigation. She’d seen that particular headline on the cover of a New Orleans paper right after Daisy had driven away. Big, bold, in your face, the headline had eased some of the battle-tight tension from Sabine’s body.

  But that tension was back now, full-force.

  The man smiled at her. “You honestly believe that crock of bull? Two labs are down, but the humans aren’t going to stop. We’re too powerful for them to ever just stop and leave us alone.”

  She held her body perfectly still. “I don’t know you,” Sabine said carefully. Escape. That was her only priority. “And I don’t want to know you. So why don’t you just go your way, I’ll go mine, and we never, ever have to see each other again.”

  He shook his head and sighed. “That’s not how this is going to work.”

  Why not? She managed to bite the words back, barely.

  Footsteps shuffled in the distance. The crowd was so close. It actually seemed as if some of those folks might be coming even closer. Stepping into the alley. She thought about calling out to them, but she didn’t want to risk any innocent lives. Too many had been risked already.

  “You’re too dangerous to be left alone,” he told her, voice flat. “You’re so new, I can tell.”

  New? She didn’t exactly feel shiny and bright and new. More like beat down. Used. Abused. “I just want to see my family.” No, she wanted her life back.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. Did he actually sound like he meant the words? Um, no. Not even a little bit. She’d definitely imagined that flash of pity earlier. “That’s not going to happen.” Then he reached for her again.

  “Buddy, you need to step the hell away from my sister.” The words were low, snarled, and coming from right behind the tall, deadly stranger.

  The stranger’s eyes met hers. His gaze was steady and dark. The flames were banked, for the moment. “I was hoping that he’d just keep walking.”

  So he’d heard the rustle of footsteps, too.

  Sabine’s heart ached. She couldn’t see around the man—he seemed to block everything else out, but that voice . . . that deep, rich voice, roughened by the slightest New Orleans drawl. She knew that voice. Her brother. Rhett.

  “Don’t hurt him,” she whispered to the dangerous man before her.

  The stranger didn’t answer.

  Then there were more footsteps. Not rustling any longer. Racing toward them. And the stranger whirled to face the threat. He, wait, was he putting his body in front of her? Like he was about to protect her?

  She peered over his shoulder. As soon as Sabine saw her brother’s handsome but tense face, it was like a punch right to her chest. She’d missed him so much.

  He had a baseball bat in his hands. The trusty bat that she knew he usually kept behind his bar. He’d been all-state, too. He’d taught her everything she knew about swinging a bat. And Rhett wasn’t alone. A crowd of men had formed behind him. Men she recognized.

  Louis Marchand. Vaughn Adams. Douglas Pierce. All of the guys were regulars at Rhett’s bar—and they were her brother’s closest friends. The men looked pissed, and they were all armed.

  Louis had a knife in his hand. A knife? Vaughn had a gun—well, okay, she wasn’t even going to wonder how the guy had gotten that, and Douglas . . . the guy gripped a broken whiskey bottle in his fist.

  “This doesn’t concern you,” the stranger snarled. “She’s not even your real sister.”

  Rhett’s jaw locked. Normally, he was the easygoing southern boy. A faint drawl would whisper in his words, just enough of a slow tease to make all his girlfriends smile. He had bright blond hair, a golden tan, and dimples that flashed.

  No dimples were flashing.

  He lifted his bat. He’d been the reason she’d been such a good player. The guy had been the one to teach her everything she knew about swinging a bat. “The hell she isn’t.” His hands had a white-knuckled grip around that bat. Oh, she knew he was about to take a swing. What would happen when he did? “And you made a fucking mistake,” Rhett snarled the words right back at the man shielding Sabine, “by trying to take her away from me.”

  The stranger lifted his hands. Sabine grabbed his shoulder. “Don’t hurt him!” She was so afraid fire would appear before his fingers. She didn’t want her brother burned.

  “He’s not going to hurt me, Sabe,” Rhett promised. “But I’m going to kick the shit out of him.”

  The man before her laughed. Then he lunged forward. Sabine screamed. Rhett swung. The bat hit hard, probably harder than the stranger expected because he stumbled back.

  Rhett hadn’t been the home-run king for nothing.

  Rhett grabbed her hand and yanked her to his side. His buddies closed in as Vaughn lifted his gun. “Asshole, you better freeze,” he barked. “Because I’m NOPD.”

  New Orleans Police Department? Since when? And when did a cop go out on the streets with men who were armed with bats and broken bottles?

  The stranger’s head lifted. His eyes weren’t so dark now. They were starting to flame. “Freezing isn’t something I’ve ever been able to do,” he said. “But burning . . . that’s a whole different matter.”

  “What the hell?” came the stunned question from Douglas. The redhead was shaking. Yeah, probably realizing that broken whiskey bottle wasn’t going to do him much good. “He’s a para!” Wait, what? Was that the new lingo for a paranormal?

  Douglas had always been a lingo guy. He thought it mad
e him seem cool.

  He didn’t exactly look cool then. Sabine pushed toward them.

  Douglas was shaking harder by the second. Maybe because the stranger’s eyes were burning brighter by the second.

  “Run,” Sabine whispered.

  No one moved.

  “Run!” she yelled. Sabine shoved Douglas. But the guy just shook his head and stood his ground.

  “No one’s hurting my sister,” Rhett said. The leader of the pack. Always. His bat had a long crack in it. His fingers tightened around the base. “So you come at me again if you want. I don’t care what the hell you are. No one hurts my sister and walks away.”

  The man’s eyes were glowing bright. “I’m not the one you have to punish. Save that for her vampire.”

  How did he know about Ryder?

  “He’s coming,” the man said, a faint smile curling his mouth. “Coming in so fast. He won’t give her up. What will you do then? Kill him?”

  Her breath had stilled in her chest. The guy was wrong. Had to be. She’d ditched Ryder.

  But Ryder knew she was from New Orleans. She glanced over her shoulder. Didn’t see anything but the end of the alley and the crowd filling the main street.

  “Maybe you’ll come to wish that she was dead.” Those words had her head snapping back toward the stranger. “Before it’s all over.”

  “And maybe you’ll wish that you’d never set foot in our town.” This growl erupted from Vaughn. His handsome face was tight with fury.

  “I’m the least of your worries.” The man’s burning gaze touched on Sabine. “But I will see you again.”

  “Not if you want to keep those eyes in your head, you won’t,” Rhett blasted.

  The stranger just smirked. Then he said, “You should duck now.”

  What?

  He lifted his hand and a ball of fire rushed in the air, heading right toward them.

  Vaughn pulled the trigger on his gun.

  Rhett’s fingers locked around Sabine.

  They all ducked.

  And as the fire blazed, the stranger with the burning eyes slipped away, leaving behind a trail of smoke and drops of blood on the ground.

  No one spoke. No one tried to go after the guy. They waited until the flames started to die away, then Rhett demanded, “Who the hell was that?”