Burn For Me

by Cynthia Eden

  Then he kissed her again.

  She tasted the desperation in his kiss. The wild lust. And knew . . .

  Something was very, very wrong with Cain.

  Eve didn’t shove him away. Maybe she should have. But . . . she was afraid. Not of him. His fire didn’t scare her at all.

  She was just terrified for him.

  Her hands slid over his shoulders. Held him. Her mouth met his, but she fought to gentle the kiss. Her lips brushed over his. Her tongue stroked his.

  Cain shuddered against her and his hold tightened even more.

  Then he spun her around and pressed her back against the wall, caging her with his body.

  His very aroused body.

  His tongue slid over hers. The guy could really do some amazing things with that tongue and—

  Cain’s head lifted. His eyes were still so dark. Lost. He stared down at her. “I remember your taste.”

  That was, ah, something, right?

  “Eve.” His voice was so low and rough.

  She nodded.

  His eyes squeezed shut and he turned his head away from her. “This . . . I’m trying to stop.”

  He sounded like he was hurting. So bad.

  Her hands were on his shoulders. Stroking his too-hot skin. “What’s happening to you?”

  He flinched at her voice even as he seemed to turn in to her touch.

  “Cain? You . . . you know me.” He hadn’t appeared to recognize her moments before. He’d just looked at her and lusted. Sometimes, a girl could enjoy being the focus of all that raw need.

  Sometimes, she needed more.

  His gaze met hers, and she saw the danger in his stare. “Even hell can’t make me forget some things.” His hand rose to her mouth. “I came back . . . wanting your taste again.”

  Eve swallowed. “Cain?”

  “I opened my eyes”—he pulled away from her and stood with his back to her—“saw you and thought . . .”

  What? What had he thought?

  “Mine,” Cain growled out the one word.

  Her heart was about to race right out of her chest.

  “You should leave. Run away from me.” Still in that dark, rough voice. One that sent shivers sliding over her because it was . . . sexy.

  Danger had always been sexy to her.

  Cain was definitely dangerous.

  She wasn’t leaving. He’d helped her. She’d helped him. Didn’t he get it? They were a team.

  Until this mess was over.

  “I’m not going anyplace,” Eve told him and was rather proud of the firm sound of her own voice.

  His back tensed. “You don’t know . . . how thin my control is right now.” He glanced back at her, and she saw the stark hunger etched on his face. “When I come back . . . I’m not the same . . . I need.”

  She was getting that.

  She was also thinking . . . He isn’t the only one who needs. “You’re not leaving me alone this time.”

  He frowned at her. Still looked lost and angry and wild.

  Eve licked her lips and his jaw locked. Her breath whispered out and she said, “This time, you don’t dump me at a truck stop and never look back.”

  “Eve . . .”

  She stepped toward him. Lifted her chin. “I want you, too.” The stark truth. Pride wasn’t going to hold her back. He needed. She needed.

  Screw pride.

  “If you dump me like that again, I will hunt your ass down.”

  He was shaking his head. “This is your chance . . . go.”

  Simply, she said, “No.”

  And he took her. Pounced. Had her in his arms and pushed right back up against the wall behind her. She could almost hear the shredding of his control, and Eve didn’t care. She wanted his wildness. Wanted the lust and the fury and the pleasure.

  Wanted everything.

  When you’d had nothing for so long, you were greedy for every emotion.

  The adrenaline still pumped through her body, heightening her sensitivity to his every touch. They fought, both trying to yank off her shirt, and then it was on the ground.

  He shoved her bra out of the way and his mouth closed over one nipple. Licking. Sucking. Scoring the tight peak lightly with his teeth.

  Her hand sank into his hair even as she moaned his name.

  His fingers slid down her body as he licked her. Cain pushed down her jeans. She kicked away her shoes. Then his fingers were between her legs.

  And she was already wet for him. Slick, hot, so ready. His fingers slid inside, thrusting knuckles deep.

  “Can’t . . . wait . . .” A growl against her skin.

  Then he lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around him. Needed. Wanted—

  Cain drove into her, sinking deep in a thrust that had her gasping. Her shoulders slammed back against the wall. He withdrew. Plunged deep. No easy ride. No tender touches.

  Everything was just . . . wild.

  Rough. Hard. Fast. He drove into her again and again. Her sex closed around him, holding tight, and his cock seemed to swell more inside her, stretching her with delicious pleasure.

  His hands were on her hips. Holding her. Lifting her. Getting her to take more of him. More.

  The climax hit her, slamming through her, and Eve screamed.

  He kept thrusting. Deeper. Harder. As if he couldn’t get enough of her.

  His eyes were on hers. Such darkness. How could there be so much need in one man’s stare?

  “Not . . . enough . . .” He bit the words off and then he was turning, carrying her, holding her tight. Her sex trembled and clenched around him as the contractions of her climax sent sensual aftershocks racing through her body.

  They entered another room. Dark. Two more steps and they fell on the bed. He caught her legs. Lifted them up higher, pushing them so that he could thrust deeper inside her. The angle sent his cock sliding over her clit with every stroke of his body. Her flesh was already too sensitive and that touch . . .

  She lost her breath.

  Her nails dug into his skin. She arched her hips against him. Wanted more. Everything.

  Every. Damn. Thing.

  His mouth was on her throat. Licking. Biting. That perfect spot. This time, she didn’t just climax.

  She erupted.

  So did he. Eve felt Cain’s climax jet inside her as his body stiffened. He shuddered and his head lifted. His eyes had gone blind from the pleasure, a pleasure that was hitting her with the same wild intensity.

  When the release finally ended, her breath was heaving in ragged gasps. Her hands slid off his shoulders, falling limply aside, and her legs eased back down to the bed.

  Cain pushed up on his arms so that his weight wasn’t on her. He stared into her eyes. Didn’t speak.

  She found she didn’t know what to say right then, either.

  So when he rolled to his side and pulled her close, she just let her heartbeat slow down.

  And wondered what would happen next.

  He had to tell her.

  Cain sat up when Eve walked out of the shower. Her hair was wet, falling over her shoulders. Her skin was shining and soft—

  Beautiful.

  He fucking had to tell her.

  Easing up in bed, he studied her for a moment in silence. When he’d come back after the last death and the fire had raged, he hadn’t been in control. When he rose, his control could be shattered. The fire was too strong. The beast he carried too powerful.

  But he’d known her.

  Not her name, not at first. He’d looked at her and just thought . . .

  Mine.

  Dangerous. To her and to him.

  He couldn’t afford any attachments. Attachments would make him weak. Vulnerable.

  That was why Wyatt wanted her. The bastard had figured out that Eve was a tool he could use. To control me.

  “Is it always like that?” Her voice came softly as she turned the force of her gaze on him.

  Cain knew he should apologize. He’d been too rough, t
oo wild. He just stared back at her.

  “At the lab, I didn’t think . . . you seemed different when you rose this time.”

  He had been different. She deserved a warning. “Each rising is different. There are times when I come back . . . times when I don’t even know my own damn name.” Then there were what he thought of as the lucky times—though those were few and far between—when he could come back, like he had at the lab, and his memories were fresh. Crisp.

  It just seemed like, more and more . . . the man had to fight the beast within in order to get back those memories.

  “When I rise, I’m at my most dangerous. I can kill . . . without meaning to.” Because he knew only fury and fire.

  Her tongue slid over her lower lip. “You didn’t kill me.”

  No, he’d just fucked her like a desperate man.

  “I think you might have more control that you realize.”

  He didn’t. He tried to warn her. “Next time, just get as far from me as you can.”

  “How about we just don’t have a next time? How about you just stay alive?”

  Easier said than done.

  Eve exhaled heavily as she turned from him. Her delicate shoulders rolled, then sagged a bit. “Any idea why those jerkoffs are after us?” she asked as she pushed back the curtain of her hair. “I thought with Wyatt gone we’d—”

  Ah, more bad news that Cain had to share. Tell her. “He isn’t.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at him. “What?”

  His breath eased out. She needed to understand that the battle wasn’t over. It was just starting. “Last night, Jimmy told me that Wyatt had put a price on my head.” He paused and wondered why he was even hesitating. “He put a price on yours, too.”

  She turned to face him. “Wyatt’s dead. You told me—”

  “I never saw him come out of Genesis. I thought he’d died.” He’d thought wrong. “But the bastard must have had an escape route mapped out, one that took him away from the fire.”

  Her eyes were wide.

  “He’s alive, and he’s after us.”

  She shook her head. “This can’t happen.”

  Yeah, it could.

  “I’m not just some random human on the street! He can’t hunt me down, shoot me.”

  Human. No, she wasn’t quite human. “I think they want you alive.” Him it didn’t matter so much. They knew he’d just come back if they killed him. So they’d use as much force as necessary to take him down. But for her . . . “Wyatt must have seen me take you through the fire, Eve. He knows you’re not human.”

  Her breath rushed out. He saw fear flicker in the depths of her stare, but she controlled the emotion quickly. Too quickly.

  She would be smart to be afraid. “He wants to experiment on you, just like he did with the others at Genesis.” Actually, Cain thought the bastard wanted more than that, but he’d already said enough. For now.

  “No.” She spun away. Marched into the other room.

  Cain followed. He’d found a pair of old jeans that fit with the aid of a belt and some beaten boots that would do. The T-shirt he wore was old and faded, but he didn’t exactly have a lot of options.

  She was pacing in front of the main door. “This isn’t going to happen.” Back and forth, she paced. “It’s not.”

  Paranormals disappeared every day. Didn’t she realize that? Since they’d come out to the world, they’d become the experiment of choice for Uncle Sam.

  And for every other government out there.

  Everyone wanted to have the biggest, strongest military. You didn’t get stronger than the paranormals.

  We should have stayed in the fucking dark. He’d never wanted the world to know his secret. Humans were better off not knowing.

  When they found out the truth, most of them just freaked the hell out and stared at him like they thought he was going to eat their kids.

  He was on a no-kid diet.

  “I’m going to the press. I might not have the laptop anymore”—she whirled around and pointed at him—“but I’ve got you. We’ll tell our story. They’ll listen. I’ll make them listen.”

  A big reveal to the media was the last thing he wanted. “You don’t think they’re waiting for you there?”

  She blinked.

  “Wyatt knows you’re a reporter. He’s probably staked out every media outlet you’ve ever worked for in your life. And he’s got the cops in this area in his pocket. The government hired him. Shit, baby, there’s no place you can go that he won’t be waiting.”

  Her shoulders straightened. “He wasn’t waiting here.”

  Cain shook his head, knowing she didn’t understand. “He let us get away.”

  “Bull. He—”

  “He knew I was dying, and he probably wanted to find out what would happen if you were left alone with me when I rose.” Cain headed toward the window. “He could be out there right now, watching and waiting to see what we do.”

  “W-what would happen if we were left alone?” she repeated, frowning. “Just what did he think would happen?”

  Cain knew that he might as well tell her. “That I’d kill you.” He looked back at her. “Usually when I rise, I kill.” Wyatt had learned that lesson soon enough. So after each rising, Cain had been kept chained tightly to the wall.

  Until his control came back.

  Then Wyatt had loosened the leash, just a bit.

  Some days, the control could come back within thirty minutes. Other days . . . it could take hours for sanity to reign once more.

  Her lips parted, and he heard the faint whistle as she sucked in a deep breath. “But you—”

  “I fucked you instead.” Because he hadn’t risen and looked at her as an enemy.

  She was something more.

  Damn you, Wyatt. You won’t use her against me.

  “When he sees that you survived my rising, he’ll want you in his lab. He’ll want to know what you are.” Just as Cain wanted to know.

  Did she even realize how powerful she could truly be? How deadly?

  To me.

  “I’m going to the media.” Her hands fisted at her sides. “I’m not—I won’t be hunted. I’ll break this story. Wyatt will be the one who runs. Not me.”

  She turned away. Yanked open the front door. Sunlight poured into the small cabin.

  “Eve . . .”

  Glancing back over her shoulder, she hesitated.

  “The minute you call one of your contacts, Wyatt will have you. The minute you show up at a news station or paper, you’ll vanish.” She had to realize this.

  Eve shook her head. “You’re giving him too much power. He won’t be in a hurry to attract attention. He’s not going to try and grab me when others are around.”

  Wyatt wouldn’t give a damn who was around. With enough money and power, anyone could vanish. “He’s got connections you can’t begin to imagine.”

  “I can imagine a hell of a lot.”

  The woman just wasn’t getting it. “The only way to stop him is to kill him.”

  She turned back toward the sunlight. “I don’t kill as easily as you do.”

  He took the shot—it was true. Few could kill as easily as he did. “It was harder once.” He hadn’t meant to say that.

  A small shiver slid over her body. “How old were you?”

  The first time you killed.

  He wouldn’t tell her. “Doesn’t matter.” The only thing that mattered was stopping Wyatt. “I’m gonna find the bastard, and I will stop him.”

  “No.” She stared into the sunlight. He’d never noticed the red highlights hidden in her dark hair before. Almost like fire. “We’re going to stop him because I’ll be damned if I let that bastard take my life away.”

  The way he’d taken so many others?

  “Maybe it’s time we became the hunters,” she said and stepped into that light. “Maybe it’s time we taught him to fear.”

  A lesson Cain would happily teach.

  Only he wouldn’t st
op with fear. He wouldn’t stop at all, not until Richard Wyatt was nothing but ash floating away in the sunlight.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The Atlanta Daily building stood stark and strong in the middle of the downtown business district. Eve had been to that building hundreds of times before. She’d worked as a freelance reporter, and she’d damn well brought in topnotch stories for Gloria Long, the paper’s editor in chief.

  When it came to stories, Gloria was a bulldog. She never backed away from anything or anyone.

  Gloria would believe her. She’d help to bust Genesis and their work wide open. The paranormals wouldn’t have to fear being snatched away and locked in a lab, not anymore.

  “This is a mistake,” Cain told her. He stood right behind her on the busy street corner, gazing up at the building.

  Her shoulders stiffened. “So you’ve told me about ten times already.” But he was still with her. He’d said that he’d stay by her side until they stopped Wyatt.

  Her own pyro bodyguard. What else did a girl need?

  They hadn’t talked about what had happened—the hot sex, the wild pleasure—the whole dark-side thing that he had going on.

  One problem at a time. Problem one for her right then—Wyatt. Making sure that his thugs weren’t about to go ballistic on her again.

  She’d known this story was big. She hadn’t known that it could possibly destroy her life.

  Eve grabbed a copy of the Atlanta Daily from the nearby newsstand. She held it up, checking for—

  “Oh, shit.” The words slipped from her. She’d made headlines before with her stories, sure, but . . .

  But she’d never been the headline before.

  In big, thick block letters, the headline screamed ROGUE REPORTER TORCHES CLUB.

  Um, rogue reporter? And she hadn’t torched any damn club—that had been Wyatt!

  Her gaze scanned the story. Dammit. It said she’d torched that warehouse. That she’d attacked police officers. That she was fleeing with known felon Cain O’Connor—and that they were both armed and dangerous.

  “I am dangerous,” Cain murmured as he read over her shoulder.

  Her fingers fisted the paper. “He attacked first.” He’d beaten her to the press. Started a smear campaign so that no one would believe her. So that the public would believe—