It was a cabin that he owned. This one and half a dozen others, scattered all around the Southeast. He liked to keep his options open.
And he liked to have a safe place to crash when necessary. The cabins couldn’t be traced back to him. He’d made sure of that.
Eve rocked forward on her heels. “Wyatt was counting on you coming. He wanted to trap you.” Her laugh was weak. Rough. “I was his bait, too. Seems everyone wants me to be bait.”
“That’s not what I want.”
She stared into his eyes. “What do you want?”
You. He hadn’t gotten her out of his system yet, not even close. But he looked away from her. Showing her how hungry he was for her . . . was one bad idea. She already had enough power over him. “I want to make Wyatt pay for what he’s done.” Death for death. Wasn’t that a fair enough exchange?
It was in Cain’s book.
“Cain . . . how can—how can you die?”
The question was the last he’d expected from her, and every muscle in his body tightened as he went on full alert. “I can’t die.” A lie. “Not really.” He forced a smile as he walked toward her. She was still just wearing the shirt he’d given her. She smelled of smoke and fear and woman. “I just come back, again and again.”
Her gaze searched his. Then she took a deep breath. “If you’re going to keep lying to me, how am I ever supposed to trust you?” Eve turned away and headed for the stairs. “Everything and everyone can die.”
True enough. The trick was to strike at the right time, and in the right way.
She was halfway up the stairs, and after all she’d been through, he shouldn’t have his eyes glued to the bare expanse of her legs.
He did, though. The woman’s legs were perfect. Sexy. Long.
Eve paused and her fingers trailed over the banister. “Sometimes I see you looking at me”—her shoulders fell—“and I can’t tell if you want to make love to me or if . . .”
She didn’t say more.
Helpless, he walked toward the stairs. Toward her. “Or if what?” A grandfather clock ticked slowly in the other room. Too loud in the silence that fell between them.
Her head bent. She studied the banister like it held the secrets to the universe. It didn’t. “If I were all-powerful, able to come back again and again—come back stronger with each death—I wouldn’t fear anything or anyone.”
He didn’t. He didn’t fear a damn thing.
“But even Superman had his Kryptonite,” she said, voice sad. “No matter how strong . . . everyone has a weakness.”
She was hitting too close to the truth for him.
“Weaknesses can make a person angry. So angry . . .” Eve glanced over her shoulder at him. Her bright gaze caught his. “And sometimes, when you look at me, I see that anger.”
Cain forced himself to speak. “The fury that I carry isn’t about you. It’s not for you.” There was just too much rage inside his beast. He’d never be able to fully control it.
Did he even want to?
“Wyatt was testing me.”
Yeah, Cain f**king knew that. Sick prick.
“He wanted to see how much heat I could handle.”
Cain saw the whisper of fear cross her face.
“I’d never . . . I’d never been in fire that hot. When the flames came at me, I thought I was going to die.”
Why was his chest aching? Cain pressed a palm over the spot, pressing back against the burn.
“You’re doing it again,” she whispered with a small shake of her head. “Staring at me like you don’t know . . . do you want me?”
Hell, yes.
“Or do you hate me?”
He cleared his throat. “Why would I hate you?” She’d never done anything to him. Never tried—
“Because according to Wyatt, I can kill you.” Her lips twisted, and her smile made the ache deepen in his chest. “I don’t think he was talking about the kind of death that just stops you for a few moments.”
No, Wyatt hadn’t been.
“He tested me to see if I was strong enough to handle the hottest fire that can burn from you. He tested me”—her hair brushed over her shoulders as she tilted her head to the right and stared at him—“because he wants me to kill you.”
Cain stared back at her. “Wyatt is a sociopathic prick who gets off on torturing people in the name of science.” He raised his brows. “I wouldn’t believe anything he has to say.”