Once Bitten, Twice Burned

CHAPTER SEVEN

They left him alone in his cell for three weeks. Ryder counted the moments as the hunger grew within him. Sabine had tried to help him by giving him blood, but it hadn’t been enough. Wyatt had taken too much from him during all of those long, desperate¸ draining hours.

Need more.

His fangs burned in his mouth. His gut clenched with a hunger that wouldn’t stop, and he began to wonder . . .

When he’d been out, just what had Wyatt done? Taken blood, yes, but had the bastard injected him with something? The hunger was stronger, so much more intense than anything he’d felt before. And it certainly wasn’t the first time that an enemy had tried to starve him.

But it was the first time that he’d hungered so completely for the blood of one person.

Need Sabine’s blood. He was salivating, wanting it—her—so badly. He’d yelled for her. Roared. But the jerks in white lab coats hadn’t come near his cell.

He’d tried to reach Thomas’s mind, and he’d made contact, right before a guard had blasted a bullet into the guy’s head.

So much for Wyatt’s talk about Thomas becoming an experiment. They’d exterminated him quickly enough.

Ryder paced back and forth in his cell. Rage and hunger built. Sabine. He thought of her too much. She was consuming him, just like the hunger. She was—

He heard the faint rustle of footsteps. With his teeth clenched, he whirled toward the observation mirror. Not watching. No one was in there. Ryder stared back at his twisted reflection as a faint odor drifted to him.

His nostrils twitched. That scent . . . “Fire,” he rasped. Sabine? His phoenix?

Then the footsteps were rushing away.

Ryder’s wild gaze darted to his door. The chains were gone. He’d smashed through them. There was a faint click and hiss from outside of his cell. The lock.

He lunged forward.

And a gun lifted. A woman stood in the doorway. Her blue eyes were big and frightened, and her dark hair tumbled around her shoulders. He ignored the gun as his gaze zeroed in on her neck.

Hunger.

“Don’t bite me!” she yelled.

His gaze jerked back up to her face. A pretty face. Pleasing. But . . .

I want Sabine. The woman before him was a means to an end. His ticket out. So he’d bite, he’d feed, and she wouldn’t stop him. Gun or no gun.

“I’m here to help you.”

His eyes narrowed. She sounded as if she meant the words, but he wasn’t buying her line. It was just another one of Wyatt’s games. Another lie. Like the twisted vampire story—primal vampires, his ass. “So says the woman with the gun aimed at my chest.” He tried to keep his voice even so she wouldn’t realize just how much fury surged in him.

She blinked and made the mistake of glancing away from him as she looked at her gun. “Look, that’s just to—”

He ripped the gun out of her hand and shoved her back. His hand fisted in her hair as he yanked her head to the side. The perfect position for feeding. “Hungry . . .” And he was. Starving. But he wouldn’t drain her. His control was there, hanging by a thread. He’d get power from her blood. Enough power to strengthen his body and get out of the pit.

“I’m . . . helping . . .” the woman said, sounding both angry and afraid. “Trying . . . to . . . help . . .”

She could help plenty by giving up her blood. Only he hesitated, not able to sink his fangs into her because in his mind, Ryder could see Sabine. Sabine had been so afraid the first time she’d come into his cell. “Need . . . you . . .” The words weren’t for the woman in his arms. He couldn’t bite her, a knowledge that pushed through his rage and hunger. He needed Sabine.

Only Sabine.

Before he could free the woman, hard hands grabbed him and yanked him away from her. His body flew through the air and thudded into the far wall.

“Too fucking bad,” a big, angry bastard snarled at him. “’Cause I saw her first.” The man’s dark eyes glittered with fury. And . . . fire?

Ryder’s attention was caught by those eyes. He’d only seen that circle of fire once before—in Sabine’s eyes. As he watched, the man with the burning eyes turned and offered the woman his hand. Huh. The guy must be her protector.

Except the woman didn’t take the offered hand. She glanced over at Ryder.

“You have to get out of here,” the bruiser with the burning eyes said to her.

Ryder rose. Took a step forward.

The guy tensed. His gaze cut to Ryder. “Touch her again,” the male snarled, “and I’ll turn you to dust.”

He’d like to see the guy try.

The woman still hadn’t taken the fellow’s offered hand. Ryder knew now that she wasn’t working with Wyatt. Whatever was happening—these two were on their own.

The dark-haired guy grabbed the woman’s wrist. He pulled her close. “Come on.” They turned for the door.

But the lady was hesitating. “There are others.” Her words reminded him of Sabine. She’d cared about the other prisoners, too. “They’re trapped,” the woman said, voice shaking, “and—”

An explosion shook the building, a blast that had cracks racing across the walls and ceilings.

Ryder tensed, then he heard screams. Screams that echoed and reverberated, seemingly calling out from all around him. Was Sabine screaming? He had to find her. Ryder rushed forward, shoving his way past the bruiser and his woman.

This time, no one would stop his escape. I’m coming for you, Sabine. A promise was a promise.

More explosions rocked the building and the screams rose.

Sabine stared up at the light above her. A small light, far too bright. At first, that light had hurt her eyes. In a room of darkness, it had been the only thing she’d seen. Her body was strapped down. No, chained down. Chained with a metal that could resist fire.

Because she’d burned before. More than once.

A whimper slipped from her lips. She knew her name because the voice that sometimes floated in the room—that voice called her Sabine. She didn’t know where she was. Why someone kept hurting her.

She just knew the fire.

She pulled at the metal bonds. They wouldn’t give. Her wrists were raw and bloody and she couldn’t get free.

There had to be more than this for her. Why couldn’t she remember? She’d had a life.

But it was gone. All she knew now were days and nights of fire and pain.

And the urge to destroy. To attack and kill . . . those urges grew stronger in her every moment.

Sabine jerked once more on the bonds. The coppery scent of her blood rose to fill her nose.

An image flashed in her mind. A man. Blond hair. Chiseled features. A faint smile tilting his lips. For some reason, when she saw that image, Sabine thought . . .

He likes blood.

She shivered. Her skin was cold. They wouldn’t give her clothes. The clothes just burned away. Everything burned.

Sabine heard the crackle of static drift in the air and knew the voice was going to come again.

“This time,” the voice announced—a female voice. One that was always flat and so cold, clipped with a hard accent—“this time we’ve been instructed to use gas on you. I’ve been assured that the process shouldn’t take long at all.”

The process. Sabine bit her lips. There was a hiss of sound and the air around her changed. Developed an acrid odor. The scent burned her nose.

Her throat.

A tear leaked down her cheek.

She held tight to the image of the blond man. It was the only image that had ever come to her.

He likes blood.

That knowledge should have scared her, but she was long past the point of terror. As she choked and shuddered, Sabine just thought . . .

Find me. Because somewhere deep inside, an instinctive knowledge told her that man was coming for her.

Chaos. Fire. Hell. But . . .

No Sabine.

Ryder’s hands clenched as he watched Genesis burn. He’d taken blood—plenty of it—from the guards who were fleeing. But the blood tasted wrong to him. Sour.

Sabine.

The scream was in his head. She was the one he needed, but he couldn’t find her. Genesis—there was nothing left there. Everything would soon be ash.

It was the second lab that he needed. Wyatt had transferred Sabine there. Ryder just had to find the place.

But the guards he’d fed on, they hadn’t known about the second lab’s location. He’d ripped into their minds—they hadn’t known. The place was shrouded in secrecy and—

The big, dark bruiser from before was back. Ryder watched as the guy stalked right through the fire. The woman was in his arms.

The woman . . . she’d tried to help me.

In his rage before, he hadn’t thought she was truly there to free him. But she had been. Not there to torture and destroy, but to help.

So he owed her. For the moment. Ryder braced his legs and called out, “Let her go.”

The man’s head snapped up even as his hold on the woman tightened. “I knew letting you live was a mistake.” Disgust and rage were ripe in the man’s voice.

Ryder swiped away the blood that dripped down his chin. He’d gorged too much. So why am I still hungry? He bared his fangs as he advanced. “She . . . saved me.” Ryder managed to grit out the words. “I won’t let you hurt her.” Sabine wouldn’t want the woman hurt. The woman—she kept reminding him of Sabine.

The guy frowned and gazed down at the woman. She appeared dead to the world, but Ryder saw the soft rise and fall of her chest. Still alive, just unconscious. Unconscious and in the arms of a phoenix who’d just torched Genesis. She wasn’t exactly in a safe place.

Then the bruiser looked back up at Ryder, and fire burned in the man’s eyes. A fire just like Sabine’s. “I’m guessing you’re lucky number thirteen,” Ryder murmured.

The phoenix glared at Ryder and warned, “You don’t want to tangle with me.”

Actually, no, he didn’t. He wanted that phoenix to get far away from him, but the woman . . . “She’s human.” He gave a hard shake of his head. Then he lied and said, “I don’t know what the hell you are, and—”

“She’s not.” The words were shouted at him. The guy’s grip on the woman just kept tightening. Cain. That was the name Wyatt had mentioned for Subject Thirteen. Cain needed to ease up or he might wind up hurting her.

And she wasn’t human? Then what was she? She’d certainly smelled human to him. “Doesn’t matter,” Ryder said as the phoenix advanced on him. “I won’t let you hurt her.” Saving the woman had suddenly become too important. Why? Because I can’t save Sabine.

No, no, he would save her. He wasn’t giving up on Sabine, not yet.

Cain studied Ryder as if he were insane. Yes, buddy, I am. Don’t push me anymore. Then the guy said, “I wasn’t the one trying to eat her.”

Ah, valid point. But that was okay. Ryder had a point of his own to make. “No, you’re just the one who wants to fuck her.”

Cain’s eyes narrowed to fiery slits. This phoenix seemed to have more power than Sabine. Wyatt had already said that Number Thirteen was stronger. With vamps, age brought increased power. Was it the same situation for a phoenix? Sabine hadn’t known what she was. The first death and rising had stunned her. This guy knew the score.

He also seemed to be able to control his fire. Wasn’t that intriguing?

Before the male could escape with the woman, Ryder deliberately stepped into his path.

The phoenix sighed and told him, “If you don’t move, you’re dead.”

Like he hadn’t heard that a time or twenty before. Controlling the impulse to roll his eyes, Ryder advanced. “You can’t—”

Fire seemed to surge right out of the guy’s hand. The flames flew at Ryder, spinning in a deadly ball. Ryder yelled and jumped to the side. The blazing ball missed him, but as he lay on the ground, a whip of fire circled him, caging his body within the crackling flames.

Then the phoenix told him, “If you ever come at her again, you’ll feel the full force of my fire.” There was a deadly promise in the words. “And you won’t have time to scream then. You’ll just die.”

Ryder stiffened. First up, he hadn’t screamed. Yelled in fury, fuck yes, but screamed? No. The very suggestion was insulting.

And second, the bastard was just leaving him there. Leaving a vampire trapped in his worst nightmare. Flames that wouldn’t die.

The flames were all she knew. Burning bright and hot in red and gold. Surrounding her. Seeming to come from within her.

The fire terrified her. So did the screams that she could hear. Or was she the one screaming? It was so hard to tell for sure.

She was supposed to remember someone. Something. A man?

The idea was there, whispering beneath the screams, but then she forgot him.

Forgot her own self.

The fire burned and burned and burned.

Fury cut through her. A killing rage. Destroy everything. Everyone. She wanted to hurt and punish.

But though the fire burned so hot, she couldn’t move her body.

Burn, burn, burn.

The fire crackled. She started to laugh. Soon she couldn’t tell the difference between that crackle of fire and her laughter. Maybe there was no difference.

Son of a bitch. He had to get out of the flames. More humans would be coming soon. It would be rather hard to ignore the giant blaze for much longer.

He couldn’t wait for the flames to die.

Ryder sucked in a sharp breath and tasted the smoke. This would hurt, but he’d survive, provided he moved fast enough.

The flames were a thick wall around him, easily eight feet high. The phoenix had planned his trap carefully. It made Ryder suspect that the guy had faced off against vampires before. Faced off against them, and no doubt killed them with his flames.

Ryder wasn’t in the mood to die.

Pain won’t stop me. He’d grown too used to it over the years. It was a companion now.

Ryder’s muscles tensed, then he ran forward, racing through the fire. The flames burned his pants, the shirt he’d jerked on before, then the fire raced over his skin.

Ryder dove for the ground. He rolled, spinning, as he tried to put out the fire that covered him. His clothes were charred, chunks missing, but so what?

He rose, then frowned. There weren’t any burns on his body. Not even any blisters. The fire had touched his skin. He’d been sure of it but—

Ryder lifted his hand. No burn.

The flesh of a vampire burned quickly. Fire was one of the best weapons against a vampire. Only he hadn’t burned.

Maybe the fire just hadn’t been able to touch him because he’d moved so fast.

No, I felt the heat on my skin.

Brows rising, Ryder walked back toward the circle of fire. His jaw tightened, and he shoved his hand right into the flames. The fire instantly surrounded his fist. He waited, counting . . .

One, two, three, four, five.

Ryder yanked his hand back.

No burns. No blisters. No marks at all. In disbelief, he stared at his unmarred fingers.

Sabine. Just what had his lovely phoenix done to him?

When the flames finally died away, she found herself strapped to a hard, metal table. No, not strapped. She twisted her head. The bindings holding her down were made of metal, too.

Her body was naked.

She felt both hot, a churning from inside of her, and ice-cold, a chill that came from outside of her body. Goose bumps covered her arms.

Static crackled. The sound made her head ache. Her gaze flew up—far, far up. At least twenty feet above her head, she saw a big, bright light.

Just that light.

“The fire lasted much longer that time, Sabine,” a cool, calm voice told her. “You must be getting stronger.”

Sabine? Who the hell was Sabine?

“Rest for a while. There have been some . . . developments.” The voice seemed to echo in the room. “We may even have a job for you soon.”

Why had they restrained her? “Where am I?”

A sigh slipped into the room. Not her sigh. A sigh that came from the voice. She’s female, just like me.

“You always have the same questions, Sabine.” Now there was a hint of annoyance in the voice. Impatience. “Rest.” An order. “The next test will be different.”

A test?

“We’ll find out if you truly are getting stronger with each rising. The fittest will survive.”

The fittest what?

But the static crackled again. Then . . . silence.

“H-hello?” she cried out.

No answer.

She twisted beneath her bonds. Pulled and yanked. Her left wrist cut open when the metal tore into it.

The scent of blood teased her nose.

He likes the blood.

She stilled.

And remembered.

I am Sabine. She thought of the cold woman’s voice. Of hell and pain.

I am Sabine.

She stared up at the light. Remembered screams and death. A nightmare that wouldn’t end. And that voice . . . that cold voice.

You will die. A promise.

Because her beast was out of the cage, and there would be no going back.

Time passed. The bonds holding her eventually were removed—the woman’s voice told her that they were programmed to release once her body reached a certain core temperature.

Food was brought to her. Pushed through a narrow opening at the bottom of her door. She ate. Barely tasted the bland meal.

She paced her room. Walked the small confines again and again. They’d given her clothes, jeans and a T-shirt and even tennis shoes. Maybe they were trying to make her feel normal now.

Only she wasn’t normal.

The man’s image would whisper through her thoughts every now and then, but she never let her expression alter.

They thought her memories were gone.

You thought wrong.

Because when she’d come back after her last death, her memories had returned completely.

She heard footsteps approaching her cell. After her deaths, her senses had sharpened, too. She could catch the faintest of smells and hear the softest of whispers.

You don’t know what I’ll do to you.

She didn’t let her smile break free. Sabine stilled and waited.

The door opened. Sabine didn’t rush for the door. She didn’t do anything. They thought they’d trained her. Broken her.

They were wrong.

A woman walked inside. A woman with sleek red hair that was twisted up on her head. She wore a lab coat, carried a clipboard, looked perfect and pretty.

But she was rotten inside. Sabine could smell that, too.

Guards flanked the woman, and, big surprise, they had guns trained on Sabine.

“I-it’s time for a test.” The woman’s voice trembled. It had never trembled before.

Sabine lifted a brow. Are you afraid to be in here with me? You should be.

The woman—she smelled of antiseptic, blood, and fear—locked her gaze on Sabine. “I can give you freedom.”

Her words were not what Sabine had expected.

“There’s a monster out there. A dangerous, vicious beast. He has to be stopped.”

Sabine was already looking at a dangerous, vicious beast. Just one that wore the skin of a human.

“He’s like you,” the lady told her. Then her jaw dropped as she seemed to realize what she’d said.

’Cause, yes, calling me a dangerous, vicious beast will make me want to help you.

“Why aren’t you talking?” the woman demanded. She seemed unnerved by Sabine’s stare. Good. The redhead’s brows shot up. “Can you talk?”

“Yes.” She just didn’t want to waste words on the bitch.

The redhead sighed, as if in relief. “Our facility has been breached.”

Was that why the lady was sweating?

He’s coming for me. The thought had Sabine’s heart squeezing. Ryder had given her a promise. Freedom was close. Close enough to taste.

“We know our director will be targeted for assassination.” The woman’s fingertips had whitened around her clipboard.

Their director? Ah yes, must be that dick, Wyatt. He’d come to see her a few times. Come to gauge the success of his precious “research.”

The redhead’s eyes narrowed on Sabine. “We want you to stop his attacker.”

Seriously? The bitch was crazy. Sabine wasn’t going to stop him. She’d applaud the guy. Give him a freaking standing ovation.

As the silence stretched, the redhead finally seemed to realize that fact.

Uh, hello? I’m the captive that you’ve been torturing and killing for days. Why, oh why, would I ever help you?

“You remembered this time, didn’t you?” the woman asked as she eased back a step. “Wyatt said that could happen. That sometimes you’d rise with your memory there. It just hadn’t happened before, so I thought . . .” Her voice trailed away.

Sabine just kept staring at her.

The woman cleared her throat. “Actually, that might make things easier,” the redhead murmured, but she still made a point of getting closer to the guards. The woman slanted a quick glance at the guard on her right. “We still have the tail on her brother, right?”

My brother. Sabine fought to control her expression. They were looking for a weakness. She wouldn’t give Genesis one.

But the crazy bitch was still talking. “Make sure our watcher knows that if Sabine doesn’t complete this task, a bullet should be put in Rhett’s head.”

Fire burned in her gut. Heating and churning and boiling as fury and fear clawed at her.

“Now that got your attention, didn’t it?” the woman said, sounding satisfied. “I saw the flash of fire in your eyes.”

“I’ll give you a flash of fire,” Sabine promised, knotting her hands into fists.

The woman jumped back a good two feet. Her shoulders brushed the cell door. The guards lifted their weapons.

Sabine had been playing with fire lately. Conjuring it from nothing. Letting balls of flame roll in her hands. The practice helped to pass the time.

Now, deliberately, she let the fire rise from her palm. The ball hovered over her hand. “Look what little trick I learned.”

Though they already knew this. They’d been watching her through their cameras and their two-way mirrors.

“Do you want your brother to die?”

Sabine forced a shrug. “Maybe he’ll just come back.” She even managed a smile. “Like me.”

One perfectly arched red eyebrow rose. “Since you were adopted and he isn’t your blood brother, I find that highly doubtful.” She gave Sabine a wide smile. “But let’s go see.” She turned to face the door.

“No!” The word broke from Sabine, and the redhead looked back, all Cheshire-cat satisfied.

Damn her. “Why are you doing this?” Sabine demanded. “I’m a person. I have rights!”

“You’re a weapon. And you’re about to be used.”

Very, very cold bitch.

“Your target is a man named Cain O’Connor. He’ll most likely be with a woman—Eve Bradley.” The redhead held up her clipboard. There was a manila file on that board. The lady pulled it free, then tossed the file near Sabine’s feet. “You can find their pictures in here. Look at them. Memorize them, then go and find those two.”

Sabine didn’t look down at the file. “And if I do, you’ll let my brother go?”

The redhead nodded.

Sabine heard the shrill cry of an alarm. The woman was right—it sounded like the second Genesis facility had been breached.

“Kill O’Connor. Leave the woman alive.”

Sabine rolled her shoulders. “Then you leave me and my family alone?” Not that Sabine could trust her but . . .

“I give you my word.”

What choice did she have?

Sabine let her fire die. Wisps of smoke floated above her hand. Slowly, she walked toward the woman. “Who are you?” she asked. The redhead with the upper-crust New York accent, one that spoke of old money, had never told Sabine her name.

“Doesn’t matter.” The redhead licked her lips. Her body had tensed at the alarm’s cry.

To Sabine, the woman’s identity mattered very much. A scientist, a doctor, a sadistic torturer. She was going to track this woman.

Sabine stared at her a moment longer, then she bent to pick up the file. She opened it, and her gaze fell to the photos inside. The male—Cain O’Connor—had gold skin, dark eyes, and hair that was almost black. He stared back up at her with an undeniable fury.

Yes, she could relate to that particular rage.

The woman’s picture showed sparkling blue eyes. Smooth skin. Dark hair. She was wearing a lab coat, just like the one the redhead had on.

Was Genesis killing its own now? Hardly surprising.

The alarm seemed to shriek even louder.

“He’ll be going for Wyatt’s office. You’ll find him on the third floor.” The redhead was backing out of the room. The guards were starting to sweat now, too.

There was fear in all of their eyes.

Sabine could hear screams coming from a distance. Screams. Yells. Growls?

“If Wyatt dies, if you don’t stop O’Connor . . .” The redhead stopped and glared at Sabine. “I’ll know, and I’ll make sure that a bullet finds its way into your brother’s head.”

Then she was gone, running away with her guards flanking her sides. Sabine’s cell door was left wide open. The alarm continued to shriek.

She looked down at the pictures once more. Was this what she’d become? A killer for Genesis?

She’d had a normal life once.

She’d been a photographer. She’d taken so many pictures, mostly all in her beautiful New Orleans. She’d shown her work at galleries. Set up a website and even been able to make a fairly decent living doing what she loved. She hadn’t gotten rich, but she’d gotten by.

She’d had a home. Friends. Family.

Rhett. No, Rhett wasn’t her blood brother. But what did blood matter? When she’d broken her leg at six, he’d been there, holding her hand, talking to her, until the cast was set. When she hadn’t made cheerleader at thirteen, he’d been there. Telling her that she was better off. That she was too good for the team and that the cheer captain had just been jealous of her skills.

He’d been wrong, of course. She hadn’t made the team because she straight-up sucked and because, during the routine, she’d accidentally punched the captain, Kristi Martin, in the face.

At sixteen, he’d been there for her again. When her boyfriend had gotten drunk and a little too handsy—not respecting her first-base rule—Rhett had, well, he’d kicked Johnny’s ass.

He’d always been there for her.

I’ll make sure a bullet finds its way into your brother’s head.

Sabine’s breath whispered out. She knew that she would do whatever was necessary in order to protect Rhett.

Even if it meant letting her monster take control.

Even if it meant killing.