Cynthia Eden - Once Bitten, Twice Burned

Ryder’s blood rained down on her.

No.

He wasn’t fighting back. Malcolm was slicing Ryder’s back, ripping into his flesh, but Ryder was just holding her tight. Whispering, over and over, “Don’t leave me, Sabine, don’t ever leave me.”

But she was already leaving. She knew what death felt like. Knew its cold touch so very, very well. Almost as well as she knew her lover’s touch.

Her breath had stilled in her lungs. Her heart had stopped beating. Maybe it had stopped the instant the stake plunged into her . . . or the instant it was pulled out.

She couldn’t move her body. Couldn’t speak and say the one thing that she needed to say. I love you.

But perhaps she didn’t need to say the words. Perhaps Ryder already knew. Because in that last glimpse she had of him, Sabine saw his eyes. His gaze was filled with fear, yes, but also filled with love.

He loved her.

She hoped, hoped, that he knew . . . I love you, too.

Then the cold deepened. Such terrible cold.

She was leaving him.

Leaving . . .

Why did the cold burn?

Sabine was gone.

Ryder held her tight, ignoring the pain as Malcolm sliced the flesh from his back.

“Fight me!” Malcolm roared.

Ryder held on to Sabine. Her blood soaked him. She’d been gone, even before he’d pulled the stake from her chest. Her eyes had already been empty. The fierce passion that was Sabine . . . gone .

Another slash over his back, then Malcolm’s claws drove straight into Ryder’s spine. “Fight me.”

Ryder didn’t feel the pain from the attack. He was already in enough agony. Lost her. The only thing, the only person that I needed . . . Lost. Her.

His heart was gone. He’d tried to hold on to his humanity. Fought for it.

But . . .

Gone.

There wasn’t anything left within him. Just a roar of rage that was building. Hollow. Cold.

Sabine had never been cold. She’d been fire. She’d been life.

Carefully, gently, he released Sabine. He pressed a kiss to her lips.

Malcolm was laughing.

“Did you love her so desperately, brother? Is that why you made her into a vampire? Did you think she’d be with you forever?”

She will be. He’d never love anyone but her. In his heart, Sabine would always be there.

His gaze lifted. The human, Keith, was near the cage. His eyes were anguished as he looked back at Sabine’s body. In shock, he stood frozen.

And the other phoenix was on the ground. Ryder had broken his neck. The flames were flickering around him, and Ryder knew Dante would rise soon.

But until then . . .

I have plenty of time.

His hands trembled as he closed Sabine’s eyes. He didn’t want her to see what he’d do.

She’s not there to see . . . The whisper slid through him, but he ignored it. He could feel his mind splintering.

Without her . . .

Why?

His spine should have been severed by his brother’s claws, but Ryder rose to his feet. He’d found that he healed faster and faster these days.

Because of Sabine? Because of her blood? Her tears?

She’d done nothing but make him stronger.

He’d be nothing without her.

“I love her.” Love, not loved. Because his feelings weren’t just going to magically stop.

Malcolm’s lips parted in surprise. “You—”

Ryder drove his fist into his brother’s jaw. Sent him sprawling back to the floor. “Have you ever loved?” Ryder demanded.

Malcolm scrambled back.

“I hadn’t . . . not until her.” He grabbed Malcolm. Yanked him to his feet. This time, Ryder drove his fist into his brother’s stomach. “She made me stronger.”

Malcolm was spitting up blood.

“Do you think I’ve never wanted to close my eyes? To end this nightmare?” Ryder snarled at him.

The roar within him built.

Splinter . . .

“I’ve tried . . . my body heals . . . heals so fast, even faster now . . .” He slammed his head into Malcolm’s, breaking his brother’s nose. “You think you’re the only one who has ever felt insects crawling on you? Eating you? I went to ground in the fourteen hundreds, so tired of the slaughters committed by men and vampires alike. You were gone. And I hated what I’d become.” He’d ordered his own entombment. He’d finally clawed his way out of that imprisonment after a year. “But we can’t change what we are.”

Malcolm watched him with wide eyes.

We can’t change.

Ryder glanced over at Sabine. “I wanted to change for her.”

Sabine . . . his Sabine . . . she was . . .

Burning?

The scent of ash and fire hadn’t come from Dante. Dante was still lying on the floor, not moving. But Sabine was burning.

We can’t change.

Her eyes had still flickered with flames when she made love with him. When she’d touched the vamp’s chest back at Bran’s Castle, he’d seen smoke drift in the air.

He’d tried to convert Sabine, but the phoenix part of her hadn’t died, not completely. Maybe it could truly never die.

And the phoenix was rising again.

“What the hell . . . ?” Malcolm’s shocked voice cried out.

“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 fucking 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 . . .”