Once Bitten, Twice Burned

CHAPTER TWO

The flames were all she knew. Burning so hot, but not hurting her. She saw fire—red and gold, so bright. She tasted ash.

The flames grew higher.

Pain and rage and fear and hate began to churn within her. Something had happened to her. Something bad. She knew it, but she couldn’t remember exactly what had happened.

She couldn’t . . . remember much of anything.

Just the fire.

But then the flames began to die away. Slowly, the fury of the fire became just a flicker, then faded to mere wisps of smoke around her bare feet.

She stood in some kind of room. With heavy, perhaps stone walls. She instinctively knew the walls were made of stone—but she didn’t know where she was.

Fear made her heart beat faster. Her gaze searched the small room, flying from the left to the right and she saw . . . him.

Against the back wall, stood a bloody man, blisters on his skin, his eyes—a wild green, bright and fierce—locked on her. There was disbelief in his eyes, shock carved into the hard, chiseled planes of his face.

And there was a chain around his wrist.

“How the hell,” his voice rasped out, deep and rumbling, and sending a shiver over her skin, “did you do that?”

She just stared at him. He seemed familiar. Her head tilted as she gazed at him. They were alone in the room. He was hurt. She was . . .

Naked?

Frowning, she glanced down at her body. Maybe she should cover herself, but she didn’t. The fury inside her left no room for modesty.

Destroy.

Burn.

Whispers that came from within.

She took a step closer to the man.

He lifted a hand toward her. A broken, twisted hand. “I thought you were dead.”

I was. The same whisper in her mind.

“Sabine, what happened?”

The name echoed in her mind. Sabine. An image flashed in front of her. A man, with dark red hair and a wide grin, chasing a little girl near a river. Sabine, you’re too fast for me! I can never catch you.

Her head began to throb. “Who are you?”

His eyes narrowed. “You don’t remember me?”

She shook her head. “Why are you chained?”

“Because they wanted to stop me from getting to you.”

She stilled. The ache in her head grew worse. Swelled higher. The rush of blood within her veins felt like the burn of fire.

The man stood just a few feet away from her. He was tall, muscled, and covered in so much blood. She glanced down at her own body. Not a drop of blood was on her skin. Her gaze rose back to meet his. “Where are my clothes?”

Surely she hadn’t just been . . . naked . . . with him.

“They burned away.” His shoulders straightened. He was a big one, tall, with thick shoulders and a muscled chest. A bleeding muscled chest. “You died, then you burned.”

A shocked laugh came from her. “You’re crazy.” She wasn’t dead. And he . . . his intense gaze caused the faintest flickers of fear to grow in her belly. As she stared at him, her body started shaking, a small tremble that seemed to come from her heart and reverberate through every muscle. Sucking in a deep breath, she spun away from him and rushed toward the door. The guy was chained up, and he had to be that way for a reason. Since he couldn’t move, it seemed to make pretty good sense that she get away from him. Her hand lifted and she pounded her fist against the door.

Fire immediately swept out from her hand and blazed a path up the door and toward the ceiling.

Screaming, she leapt back, even as the sprinklers erupted overhead.

“There they come again.” His dark mutter.

The icy water drenched her. She tried pounding on the door again. More fire, fire that didn’t so much as singe her fingertips, but the door didn’t open.

Trapped.

She shook her hands, trying to stop the fire. Flames couldn’t be coming from her fingers. That wasn’t possible. This was just a nightmare.

She looked at her hands and saw—more fire.

Nightmare.

She screamed and spun around to stare at the man. Except he wasn’t a man. His fangs were bared—fangs!—and he was straining as he ripped his left wrist out of that cuff-like chain. She heard the crunch of bones and she flinched, but he just gave a growl and wrenched his broken hand free.

Then his gaze met hers.

“Who are you?” she whispered.

“Ryder.” He lifted his right hand. Pressed it to his bloody chest. Bones snapped and popped. Then he used that right hand—nausea rolled within her—to snap his left hand and its fingers back into place.

She raised her own hands before her. The fire flickered above her fingers—freaking her the hell out—but she shouted, “Stay away from me!”

He wasn’t coming toward her. He was digging something out of his chest. Clawing at his chest and pulling out something small and black. He clawed at his chest again and again. The objects that he pulled from his flesh—at least seven of them—looked like bullets.

Ryder dropped them. “Hope you’re getting a good show, Wyatt.”

Who was Wyatt?

The throbbing in her head was driving her crazy. Burn. The fire above her fingers flared higher. She slammed her hands against the nearby wall and the flames shot up the stone instantly, heading to lick at the ceiling. “What is happening to me?” she whispered. A scream seemed to echo inside her head.

“Sabine.”

His voice cut through that scream. Her head turned toward him. Their eyes met. He was stalking toward her. Closing in. “Stop the fire,” he told her, his voice quiet.

“I-I don’t know how!” Tears leaked down her cheeks. Her hands stayed on the wall. She was afraid that if she lifted them up, she’d shoot the flames right at him.

Part of her wanted to hurt him. Part of her wanted to just hurt and destroy everything.

But another part . . . another part was lost. Help me.

The flames continued to rise up the wall. The man— Ryder—kept coming toward her. He had to feel the heat from the fire, but he didn’t look afraid.

Powerful. Dangerous. But not afraid.

Since flames were shooting from her hands, shouldn’t she be the dangerous one?

Her nails dug into the wall.

“Stop the fire, Sabine,” Ryder told her again, and her breath heaved out.

“Don’t you think I would, if I could?” Her head shook frantically. The scream in her mind was back. Was that her scream? “I can’t! I—”

His fingers curled around her chin and stopped the shaking of her head. She was afraid that the fire would spread to him, so her fingers shoved harder against the wall. His body surrounded her. She kept her hands on the wall. He was touching her, and she was too terrified to touch him. “Get away from me,” she whispered.

She couldn’t even begin to guess at the emotions in his eyes as he gruffly said, “I want to help you.”

“Why?” She understood nothing that was happening. “Why are we here? Where are we?” The flames seemed to burn hotter, while his touch on her skin felt curiously cool. Almost soothing. “You know me, right? We were here together?”

His fingers stroked her skin.

“Tell me!”

“I know you,” he said. His head lowered to her. “Don’t let your control break. Fight this.”

Fight the fire? The scream inside? What?

His lips took hers. The kiss was the last thing she expected, and her gasp of surprise slipped into his mouth. The kiss was soft, gentle, even as the fire raged on the wall near her. The sprinklers kept pouring water on them. Water that dripped over her face and held her frozen against him.

No, it wasn’t the water that kept her immobile.

His mouth pressed lightly to her lips. His tongue stroked inside, caressing her, tasting.

Her heartbeat drummed in her ears, but the scream in her mind began to quiet down. Still afraid, her nails dug deeper into the wall.

His fingers slid down her neck.

A memory nagged at her. An image.

His head, bending toward her.

“Please . . . don’t . . .” Her voice. She knew it was. Her memory.

“Let me help you.” His whisper against her lips. “Trust me. I won’t hurt you . . .” Ryder’s words were rough, ragged.

Did she imagine it or had he said . . .

I won’t hurt you . . . again.

But he wasn’t even close to hurting her now. His lips were light on hers. So soft and gentle and she wanted to kiss him back. To taste him. To forget the fire and just feel him.

“I know what you are.” His lips feathered near the edge of her mouth. “I know.”

Slowly, his head lifted. The water had soaked his hair dark. Droplets clung to his thick lashes. Slid down his cheeks. High cheeks. Such a handsome, sexy face. A face made to tempt a woman to sin.

Her gaze followed those drops of water. Fell down to his lips. Sculpted, sensual. But then—then—“You have fangs.”

Did his lips curl in a faint smile? The smile was so brief it was hard to tell for sure. Then he said, “And you’re burning the room around us.”

She blinked up at him.

“Pull it back, love,” he told her. “Pull it back.”

She didn’t know how.

He kissed her again. “Focus on me.”

She wanted to, but it was hard with the giant wall of flames just inches away. “You should move away.”

Ryder shook his head. “I won’t leave you. I won’t watch.”

She didn’t even know what that meant.

“Breathe,” he told her. “Slow. Deep.” His hand moved to rest over her heart. “Too fast,” Ryder told her. “Breathe. You’re safe with me.”

She wanted to believe him. The scream in her mind—it had quieted so much, but her nails still dug into the wall. She focused on getting her breaths to match his. In. Out. In. The fire appeared to be shrinking. The flames were flickering.

“Good.” His voice seemed to rumble inside her. His touch—his hand—it was cool against her overheated flesh. The edge of his thumb slid over her breast, and she gasped at the contact.

The flames flickered again.

She wanted to grab his hand and yank it away from her flesh, but she was afraid to touch him. If he burned like the wall did, he would be dead instantly.

But he was tensing before her. His head tilted even as his gaze flew toward the door. “They’re coming.”

They?

He dropped his hand.

The water kept falling on them.

“Stay behind me,” he ordered. “No matter what happens. Stay behind me.”

She yanked her hands away from the wall. Fisted them and shoved them behind her body.

The door was opening with a screech of metal that hurt her ears. There were men there. Men who wore thick, heavy white suits and giant masks that covered their heads.

What in the hell?

The men had guns in their hands, and their weapons were aimed at Ryder.

“Do you really want to dig out more bullets, Ryder?” a low voice asked. A voice that came from above them. Her head jerked up, and she saw a small speaker in the middle of the ceiling.

“Not really,” Ryder drawled, “so I think I’ll just kill these bastards instead.”

And he lunged forward, moving in a flash despite the blood that still covered him. He was injured, hurt so badly, and—

He killed a man while she watched. Yanked the gun from the guy’s hands. Turned the weapon back on the man in white and shot him. Blasted him in the heart and then aimed the gun on the others. “You should move faster,” he told them.

They were trying to fire. Shooting with their weapons, and she lifted her hands, wanting the nightmare before her to stop.

Flames flew from her fingers and headed right for Ryder and the others.

The flames licked over Ryder’s back. He didn’t even stop attacking.

I’m sorry!

The flames hit the other men. The men in those heavy white suits, but the fire didn’t hurt them.

“You’ll have to burn hotter than that,” the voice on the speaker said. “Their suits are reinforced, and your temperature is far too low.”

What?

“But if you keep the flames going, you may very well kill Ryder,” that droning voice told her.

She dropped her hands.

Ryder had another guard on the floor. The man’s neck had been broken.

Ryder glanced over at her.

She screamed a warning at him. More guards were coming. They fired at him.

But the new guards weren’t using regular bullets because no blood appeared when he was hit.

“Those tranq darts can take out anyone,” the voice she already hated told her, “even a monster as strong as Ryder.”

Another guard lifted his weapon and fired at her. Ryder roared and grabbed him. The man was dead before he hit the floor.

And she was hit. A tranq dart was in her chest. Her knees gave way.

“No point fighting,” that annoying voice blasted out from the speaker. “Like I told you, the tranqs can take out anyone.”

Her shoulder slammed into the floor. She tried to push back up to her feet, but she couldn’t get her limbs to work right.

Ryder was falling, too. Falling, but still fighting. Another dart sank into his neck.

Then his head hit the floor. The smack of his skull had her flinching and reaching out to him.

I’ve reached for him before. The memory was there, just beneath the surface of her mind.

He groaned when his body collapsed on the floor. A guard went to step over him—

Ryder’s hand flew out, tripping the man. “I’m not . . . out yet,” Ryder growled. “Stay the . . .” His fist slammed into the man’s mask, “hell away from . . . her.”

Her heart was slowing down. It felt like she had mud in her veins, not blood.

Ryder had yanked that man closer to him, and as she could only lie there and watch, Ryder buried his fangs in the guy’s throat.

Drinking from him.

Her neck began to ache.

Another memory was there, trying to push through.

“Get her out!” The shout blasted from the intercom. “Now!”

The men not unconscious or dead hurried to obey. Ryder was too weak to hold them all off, but he took two down.

Two others grabbed her. Fire sputtered from her hands, but it didn’t burn their suits. They dragged her out, hauling her right past Ryder.

He snarled in fury and tried to reach for her, but she knew the tranq must be having the same effect on him.

Mud inside. Can’t move.

Ryder grabbed one of the fallen men. Sank his teeth into the unconscious man’s throat.

“I’ll . . . find . . .” Ryder’s voice was following her. Her gaze found his. Blood stained his mouth. His victim lay on the floor beside him. Two puncture wounds marked the man’s throat.

“I’ll find . . . you . . . Coming . . . for you!” Ryder growled after her. She wasn’t sure if his words were a threat, or a promise.

Maybe they were both.

Then she was outside of that small room. The men in white lifted her onto some sort of gurney. They strapped her in and rolled her down a hallway. Fluorescent lights flickered over her head.

She tried to break free, but the drug was still slowing her down.

A door opened. The scent of bleach and antiseptic hit her.

Another room.

“Let . . . go,” she whispered.

Then a man leaned over her. Tall, dark, with green eyes.

Not like Ryder’s eyes.

This man’s eyes were a cold, arctic green. Chilling.

“You’re lucky we got you away from him in time.”

She didn’t feel lucky.

“Sabine, I’m sorry for what he did to you.”

Sabine. There was the name again.

He smiled. “You don’t remember, do you? That happens sometimes, after a rising.”

It’s the Twilight Zone. She remembered that show. The images of it flashed through her mind in quick succession. I’m in it. Someone. Get. Me. Out.

“Your memory will come back soon enough. Once you’ve rested.” He shined a light in her eyes. Touched a hand to her skin and then jerked his fingers back, waving them as if they’d been singed.

She’d like to do more than singe him.

“How did it feel?” he asked her as he inserted a needle into her arm.

“What?” She gritted out at him. That needle was freaking huge, and whoever this man was—I hate him. The knowledge was there. Lost memory or not.

“Dying,” he said, as if it were obvious. “How did it feel when Ryder killed you?”

Her heart seemed to stop. “You’re crazy.” She wasn’t dead. She was talking to him. Living. Breathing.

And Ryder hadn’t killed her. He’d been there to help her. He’d tried to calm her down so the fire wouldn’t rage out of control. He’d done his best to protect her from the guards.

The man’s lips tightened. “You’ll tell me soon enough. This was just the first of our experiments.” He pulled the needle from her arm. Nodded to someone that she couldn’t see. “You’ll beg to tell me.”

She wasn’t begging him for anything.

“Just as you begged Ryder to let you live. But he didn’t, did he? He just took your blood and left you to die.”

The fury had drained from her. Only fear remained. “Why are you doing this?”

He reached out to touch her face, but hesitated. Don’t want to get burned, do you?

But Ryder hadn’t gotten burned when he touched her. He’d held her, kissed her. He hadn’t been afraid of her fire.

“You can help to change the world.”

“Let me go.”

“You can save lives. Make miracles. And really, is death too much to ask from you?”

He turned away before she could tell the crazy bastard that, yeah, death was too much to ask.

“It’s not like you won’t just come back when you die.”

His words were tossed back at her. She couldn’t see him anymore. The straps pressed her against the table and the drugs held her still.

“You’re weaker than the other one,” he said. “That isn’t a bad thing, don’t worry. I know how to make you stronger. All you need are a few more deaths.”

In. Sane.

“We’ll start soon, don’t worry. But I need to check on the vampire. See what your blood has done to him.”

Ryder had drunk from her? The bastard in the lab coat had said . . . Did he kill me?

No, that was crazy. She wasn’t dead.

Or was she?

Because this place, with its stark white ceiling, with the men who shot at her, and with the vampire who killed in front of her . . . this place sure seemed like hell.

They dragged out the bodies while he was still weak. They moved fast because they were smart. Even as the last body was hauled out of his cell, Ryder was already pushing to his feet as his body fought the poison in his veins.

The SP tranq. How he hated that bitch. Damn Wyatt for every creating the drug that could knock even the most powerful of supernaturals on their asses. The SP tranq was tailored for Ryder and his brethren, guaranteed to temporarily immobilize even the strongest monsters out there.

And it was only the supernaturals that Wyatt cared about. This lab, the cells, they were all designed to hold supernatural beings so that Wyatt could experiment on them.

Ryder now knew exactly why Sabine had been brought to his cell. Wyatt had wanted to gauge Ryder’s reaction to her, and Sabine—well, she was just another one of Wyatt’s experiments. A victim, one who didn’t even seem to realize just what she’d been.

Not until she’d died.

Sabine Acadia.

After drinking Sabine’s blood, the guards’ blood had tasted like stale bread in his mouth. She’d been life. Warmth. Spice and wine.

He stalked toward the two-way mirror. Drove his fist into the surface. “Where is she?”

He’d promised Sabine that he’d find her. He would. He’d leave Genesis, but he’d be sure to take her with him.

Then they’d both burn this hellhole to the ground. Sabine would be so good at that burning.

“I know you’re there,” he snarled at his reflection, and he did know that Wyatt was watching him. Ryder had tried to play it cool and not let the scientist realize just how enhanced his senses truly were, but screw that ruse.

He could smell the bastard in that other room.

“Where’d you take her?” His fist pounded into the mirror once more.

The intercom crackled. “Why do you care, vampire?”

He knew the question came because he wasn’t supposed to care about anyone or anything. As a rule, he didn’t care—that was the reason Wyatt hadn’t been able to break him.

Don’t. Care.

“You know what Sabine is, don’t you?” Wyatt asked him.

Yes, he knew. She shouldn’t have existed. She should have only been a myth.

But vampires were supposed to just be myths, too. And here the fuck I am. “I know you’re playing with fire. So when your ass gets burned, you’ll only have yourself to blame.”

Silence. The kind that said he’d pissed off Wyatt. That was the kind of silence he liked, but then Wyatt said, “That was her first death. Her first rising. I don’t believe Sabine had any idea just what she was.”

Hell, after that fire, she hadn’t even realized who she was Standing there, her body naked, sexy and perfect, but her eyes looking so lost and confused.

He’d wanted to protect her. Protecting wasn’t his bit. Killing was.

I’m the reason she died. Wyatt had tossed her to him like a fresh piece of meat before a starving dog. “You knew what would happen when I tasted her blood.”

“Ummm . . .” He heard the scribble of a pen as it scratched over paper. Wyatt, taking his notes. Always recording and analyzing every word and deed.

The human doctor who was supposed to take genetics to the next level. Supposed to create the perfect soldier—hell, those had been Wyatt’s exact words to him. With the power of the beasts here, we can create a military force that will be unstoppable .

Wyatt sure liked to play with fire. Watch that, asshole, or you’ll get burned to ash.

Even before he’d been captured by Wyatt and his goons, Ryder had made it his mission to learn as much as possible about Genesis, and the man at the helm of the organization. The newspapers had been full of glowing stories about genius scientist Dr. Richard Wyatt and his plans to use Genesis as a research facility that would aid the U.S. government.

Ryder had looked past those flashy stories—stories designed to fool humans and lull them into thinking that everything was okay, that they still lived in a safe world.

A world in which the supernaturals could be used and controlled.

Yes, he’d looked deeper, and he’d discovered that paranormals were being abducted and forced into Genesis. Once inside Genesis, they didn’t get out.

I will, though. I’ll break free. Did the government realize how far Wyatt was going, in the name of his so-called research? Ryder bet they did, and the human suits just didn’t care.

In his experience, supernaturals were highly expendable to humans.

Silence filled the room, then Wyatt finally said, “Vampires don’t just drink blood, they drink power.”

Ryder cursed. Like he needed a lesson on what his kind did. If Wyatt ever realized just who Ryder was . . .

I’ll never get out of here.

Not an option for him.

“I knew Sabine would have plenty of power for you.”

Enough power to drive him crazy from the rush. He’d never tasted anything quite like her. Probably never would again.

“Her fire didn’t burn you.”

Wyatt’s words sank into Ryder, and he tried to show no change of expression. He’d hoped the doctor had missed that part of the experiment. He should have known better.

“The fire went right over your back, but you have no wounds.”

Ryder smiled into the mirror. Where is she? “You know vamps . . .” He slapped his chest. The bullet wounds were gone. “Fast healers.” Especially him.

“You didn’t heal. You just didn’t get burned.” Wyatt sounded annoyed then. Big deal. Ryder was way past the point of being annoyed.

“Why don’t you come in here?” Ryder invited him. “Check me out. See for yourself.” So I can rip open your throat.

“You drank her blood . . . hmmm . . . was the blood what gave you immunity to her flames?” Now he figured Wyatt was just talking for the hell of it. “It must have been.”

Ryder’s back teeth ground together.

“Vampires burn as fast as witches, but you didn’t burn.”

Ryder saw the promise of death in the reflection that stared back at him. Wyatt would see that promise, too.

“We’ll have to experiment more.” Now Wyatt was talking to the others who were with him. More sadistic jerks in lab coats. The ones who cut open the paranormals and pieced them back together. Well, mostly, anyway. Ryder knew the paranormals being held weren’t always allowed to fully heal or even survive.

And they said he was the monster. At least he didn’t play with his food.

“Once she wakes up and she remembers . . .” Yes, Wyatt was definitely talking to his flunkies. “Take her to the other vampire.”

Sabine.

Ryder didn’t move, but his fangs were suddenly burning in his mouth. “Don’t fucking dare.” Another vampire? Of course, he’d known more of his kind were being held. But another vampire and Sabine?

Look what I did, and I’m the oldest of our kind. A younger vampire would never be able to hold back. A younger vampire would hurt her, rip her skin. Tear her throat wide open.

Then she’d burn again.

The speaker crackled. “Is there a problem?” Wyatt’s calm voice. Bastard, he knew he was baiting Ryder. “Not forming an attachment, are you, vampire? Because I thought you were incapable of attachments.”

Yeah, well, he’d thought the same thing, but Sabine was changing the game for him. She needed him, and, for once, he was going to protect someone—not just someone, her. “Bring her back to me.” Gritted out.

“And if I do, what will you give me?” Wyatt wanted to immediately know.

It was a devil’s deal. One that Ryder had known would come, but he had no choice. His hands dropped to his sides. He stared straight ahead. When he concentrated hard enough, he could see Wyatt through the glass. The fool didn’t know it. The doctor was smirking. His stance too cocky. His flunkies weren’t nearly as close to the glass. Because they were afraid.

Despite the guy’s IQ, Wyatt didn’t seem to have the sense to fear.

When death comes, you won’t be so cocky. You’ll be so afraid then that you piss yourself.

Death would be coming soon for Wyatt.

“What will you give me?” the doctor asked again.

No choice. “Whatever the hell you want. Just give Sabine back to me.”

Silence. Wyatt’s gaze drifted down to his notes, and the men behind him shifted nervously. Then, finally, once he’d proven that he thought the power was his, Wyatt’s stare rose to meet Ryder’s. “Deal.”