“Not hell,” Ryder muttered. Sabine was his angel, and she was coming back to him. Yes.
The fire spread over her body. Burning slowly at first, then blazing hotter, higher, until he couldn’t see her at all. Just the flames. Red and gold and beautiful.
“She’s burning.” Malcolm grabbed Ryder and spun him around. He put a gun to Ryder’s chest. Ryder didn’t even bother wondering where the guy had gotten his weapon. “You’ll never have her again!” Malcolm swore.
He’d have her in minutes. Ryder smiled at him. “Wooden bullets?” Because, of course, what else would you use against a vampire?
“They’ll knock you out,” Malcolm said, snapping his teeth. “Then I’ll take your head. I won’t leave it hanging with some tendons and flesh, the way you did with me.”
The smell of smoke filled the room. The crackle of the flames grew louder. Sweet, wonderful fire. “Was that my mistake?” Ryder asked him, holding his body still. He didn’t want Malcolm focusing on Sabine now. He’d heard that the moment of change was the weakest moment for a phoenix. They were vulnerable at that time. According to old whispers he’d heard centuries ago, the only time they could be truly killed was when they burned.
Sabine was vulnerable then. And—
And Dante had wanted to kill Sabine. The phoenixes . . . they kill their own kind.
The cold suspicion iced through him. Dante had come to New Orleans in order to find Sabine. He’d been tracking her. Trying to find the perfect moment to kill her? A moment like . . . now?
But he’d snapped Dante’s neck. Hadn’t he?
“Yes,” Malcolm hissed. “That was your f**king mistake, that was—”
Ryder yanked the gun from him. Fired the wooden bullet straight into Malcolm’s heart. “Good-bye, brother.” He wouldn’t feel the grief or the rage. Not then.
And he would finish the job, but first . . .
Ryder spun around. Dante was on his feet—tricky SOB—and advancing toward the flames that enclosed Sabine. Ryder ran for him and tackled the guy. “Stay away from her!”
Dante shoved him back.
That was when he noticed Cassie was in the corner. She watched them with pain-filled eyes as blood pulsed from her neck. “S-stop,” she whispered.
Dante and Ryder rose to their feet.
“Is this what you wanted?” Ryder demanded. “To attack my woman? To kill her when she was weak?”
Dante craned his neck, popping it as he turned his head to the left and the right. “Had to see . . . wasn’t even sure if she could burn anymore . . .”
She could burn just fine.
“You’re staying away from her,” Ryder said because he wasn’t about to let anyone get close to her when she was weak.
“She’s not even going to know you.” Dante smiled at him. A hard, evil grin. “When the fire dies away, I’d say you’ve got about a five percent shot of her even remembering who you are. Do you know that? The fire can take away our memories. Leave us with nothing but ashes. She’ll see you, see your monster and just want to run from you. That is, if she doesn’t go for your throat first.”
“That’s a chance I’ll take.” Maybe she wouldn’t remember him, then, fine, he’d just make her fall for him again. This time, things would be different. She wouldn’t have to know the pain of their first meeting. She wouldn’t remember the bite or the blood or—
No.
He didn’t want any memories taken from Sabine. She deserved to have every instance in her mind, good and bad and everything in between.
Dante’s eyes narrowed as he studied Ryder. “I don’t understand you.”
Ryder shrugged. “What’s to understand?” Sabine, hurry, come back to me.
“I’ve seen you, over the centuries . . .”
Dante’s words shocked Ryder into silence. As far as he knew, only vampires lived for that long a period of time. Every other being he’d encountered had seemed to have an expiration date.
“You’ve killed,” Dante said, voice expressionless. “You’ve fought. You’ve left a trail of death in your path.”
Ryder lifted his chin. “Looking to throw some stones? What have you been doing for your centuries? Protecting the innocent?” Doubtful, given the way this guy enjoyed tossing around his flames.
Dante waved that away. “I know what you are, on the inside. Because I’m the same. The darkness. The need to kill, to fight, to destroy. It’s in us both.”
“I don’t want to destroy Sabine.”
His brother’s blood was on the ground. How long would he have before Malcolm rose? How long before Sabine came back to him? Hurry, love. Don’t keep me waiting.
He had to stand guard over her burning form. He couldn’t leave, not even to finish his battle with Malcolm. Or rather, not even to finish him.
“Why not?” Dante asked. “What makes her different?”
Cassie started to choke. No, she’d been choking all along, slowly dying as she tried to beg them for help. Ryder saw that now as his gaze flew to her. She couldn’t speak. Her eyes screamed for her. Keith had finally shaken from his stupor and run to her, but there was nothing he could do to help.
“Will you save the human?” Dante asked as he cocked his head. “Will you rush to aid her, trying to even that bloody scorecard that you carry around with you? Saving human lives, to make up for all the ones you slaughtered?”
Cassie was dying in front of him.
“Or will you keep standing guard,” Dante murmured. “Over the phoenix who burns so brightly? A phoenix who may soon come for your heart.”
“She already has my heart.” Sabine could do with it whatever the hell she wanted.
Cassie had tears streaming down her cheeks. Her eyes were desperate, but she shook her head when she gazed at Ryder. Her lips moved, just the faintest bit . . . Stay with her.
Sorrow had his own lips tightening. Cassie wasn’t like the others from Genesis. Perhaps she really had wanted to help.
For that kindness, she was receiving a slow and brutal death.
Then Ryder saw her eyes dart to Dante’s form. Her stare changed. Flickered with an emotion that he was becoming too familiar with these days.
Ryder’s breath left him in a rush. “She saved you.”
Dante frowned. “Sabine has done—”
“Not Sabine.” He didn’t want the man even speaking her name. Stay away from her. To keep Dante’s attention away from Sabine, Ryder said, “The human, Cassie, she’s the reason you escaped Genesis.”