Trace glanced at Eve. “You think you already know about him, don’t you?”
Her gaze lingered on Cain. “I know he didn’t set that shop on fire.”
“How do you know?” Trace demanded instantly. “Fire is his bitch to control, it’s—”
“His fire feels different.” She walked past the two men. Peeked out of the faded curtains, then turned back to face them. “That was a planned explosion. A bomb.” Her lips twisted. “Humans at work.”
Trace headed toward her and caught her wrist. Cain tensed. He didn’t like the handsy shifter. Not a f**king bit.
“He’s trouble, okay?” Trace said, leaning too close to Eve. Cain’s hands clenched as the werewolf continued, “Any being that can’t die—you don’t want to be around him.”
Eve’s gaze darted to Trace’s hand, then back to his face. “When you’ve got an army of trigger-happy jerks and a mad scientist after you, an unstoppable immortal is exactly who you need at your side.”
Her words slid over Cain like a warm caress, and he straightened his shoulders. The words weren’t the exact truth, though. He wasn’t immortal. He could be killed. Not by much, granted, but with the right weapon—
Her.
—he could taste his last death.
“Phoenix.” Trace tossed the word out like a curse. Maybe because that was what it was. “They’re not supposed to actually exist. But he”—Trace inclined his head toward Cain—“is real. And he’s one of the most dangerous monsters that I’ve ever met.”
Not one of the most. The most. The wolf needed to get his facts straight. And he needed to get his hands off Eve.
“He burns and he rises,” Eve said softly, her eyes on Cain.
“And ashes are left in his f**king wake,” Trace cut in. “Eve, shit, this is too dangerous for you. He’s too dangerous. Let’s get out of here and get you someplace safe.”
The wolf was pissing off Cain. Maybe it was time to singe some of that ass**le’s fur—
“No.” Eve’s voice. Sharp. Demanding. “Don’t even think about hurting him, Cain.”
“What?” Trace snarled and he swung around, claws out. “Oh, come on, pyro, you just—”
“Stop!” Eve held up her hands. The hands that were still scratched and red. “In case you two jerks missed it, we’re all being hunted. We don’t have time for this alpha crap.”
It wouldn’t take much time. Cain was sure he’d have the wolf fleeing in about, oh, five seconds.
Maybe even three.
“We have to stop Wyatt,” Eve said, rubbing her forehead, “before he hurts anyone else.”
Cain would lay odds that the guy was undoubtedly out hurting someone else right then.
“His prey got away. Genesis was destroyed.” She swallowed. “So he’s probably looking for new test subjects.”
“Yeah,” Trace drawled, “and you’re one of them, sweetheart.”
Cain’s eyes narrowed as he took a step forward. The wolf was far too damn familiar with Eve. Touching. Using endearments. Sweetheart—my ass. Trace needed to back the hell off.
Cain had cut the shifter some slack since he’d been there with that getaway vehicle in the city, but that slack—yeah, it was ending.
“I can’t be the only one,” Eve argued. “He’s not going to stop his experiments. Wyatt will be out looking for more paranormals.”
And Jimmy Vance wouldn’t be supplying that “more” any longer.
“I’m not just going to wait for him to come and find me again. He wants a hunt?” Eve demanded. “Then I’ll give him a hunt. I’ll hunt that bastard.”
The exact plan that Cain wanted to follow. Only he wasn’t just planning a hunt.
I’m going to kill you, Wyatt. He’d watch the bastard burn to ash. There’d be no escape for him.
“How are you gonna do that?” Trace wanted to know. The werewolf shook his head. “You’re not a paranormal, Eve, you’re not strong enough to—”
Cain laughed. The wolf really didn’t know her that well. “Guess again,” he murmured.
Trace frowned.
Eve’s gaze lowered to the floor.
“Eve?” Trace said her name with uncertainty. “What’s going on?”
She’s not human. She’s not your f**king sweetheart. How about you choke on that?
But Eve wasn’t talking. Fine. He’d help her out. Cain took his time walking to her side. He lifted his hand and let the fire rise above his fingers.