Once Bitten, Twice Burned(7)

She couldn’t even begin to guess at the emotions in his eyes as he gruffly said, “I want to help you.”

“Why?” She understood nothing that was happening. “Why are we here? Where are we?” The flames seemed to burn hotter, while his touch on her skin felt curiously cool. Almost soothing. “You know me, right? We were here together?”

His fingers stroked her skin.

“Tell me!”

“I know you,” he said. His head lowered to her. “Don’t let your control break. Fight this.”

Fight the fire? The scream inside? What?

His lips took hers. The kiss was the last thing she expected, and her gasp of surprise slipped into his mouth. The kiss was soft, gentle, even as the fire raged on the wall near her. The sprinklers kept pouring water on them. Water that dripped over her face and held her frozen against him.

No, it wasn’t the water that kept her immobile.

His mouth pressed lightly to her lips. His tongue stroked inside, caressing her, tasting.

Her heartbeat drummed in her ears, but the scream in her mind began to quiet down. Still afraid, her nails dug deeper into the wall.

His fingers slid down her neck.

A memory nagged at her. An image.

His head, bending toward her.

“Please . . . don’t . . .” Her voice. She knew it was. Her memory.

“Let me help you.” His whisper against her lips. “Trust me. I won’t hurt you . . .” Ryder’s words were rough, ragged.

Did she imagine it or had he said . . .

I won’t hurt you . . . again.

But he wasn’t even close to hurting her now. His lips were light on hers. So soft and gentle and she wanted to kiss him back. To taste him. To forget the fire and just feel him.

“I know what you are.” His lips feathered near the edge of her mouth. “I know.”

Slowly, his head lifted. The water had soaked his hair dark. Droplets clung to his thick lashes. Slid down his cheeks. High cheeks. Such a handsome, sexy face. A face made to tempt a woman to sin.

Her gaze followed those drops of water. Fell down to his lips. Sculpted, sensual. But then—then—“You have fangs.”

Did his lips curl in a faint smile? The smile was so brief it was hard to tell for sure. Then he said, “And you’re burning the room around us.”

She blinked up at him.

“Pull it back, love,” he told her. “Pull it back.”

She didn’t know how.

He kissed her again. “Focus on me.”

She wanted to, but it was hard with the giant wall of flames just inches away. “You should move away.”

Ryder shook his head. “I won’t leave you. I won’t watch.”

She didn’t even know what that meant.

“Breathe,” he told her. “Slow. Deep.” His hand moved to rest over her heart. “Too fast,” Ryder told her. “Breathe. You’re safe with me.”

She wanted to believe him. The scream in her mind—it had quieted so much, but her nails still dug into the wall. She focused on getting her breaths to match his. In. Out. In. The fire appeared to be shrinking. The flames were flickering.

“Good.” His voice seemed to rumble inside her. His touch—his hand—it was cool against her overheated flesh. The edge of his thumb slid over her breast, and she gasped at the contact.

The flames flickered again.

She wanted to grab his hand and yank it away from her flesh, but she was afraid to touch him. If he burned like the wall did, he would be dead instantly.

But he was tensing before her. His head tilted even as his gaze flew toward the door. “They’re coming.”

They?

He dropped his hand.

The water kept falling on them.

“Stay behind me,” he ordered. “No matter what happens. Stay behind me.”

She yanked her hands away from the wall. Fisted them and shoved them behind her body.

The door was opening with a screech of metal that hurt her ears. There were men there. Men who wore thick, heavy white suits and giant masks that covered their heads.

What in the hell?

The men had guns in their hands, and their weapons were aimed at Ryder.

“Do you really want to dig out more bullets, Ryder?” a low voice asked. A voice that came from above them. Her head jerked up, and she saw a small speaker in the middle of the ceiling.

“Not really,” Ryder drawled, “so I think I’ll just kill these bastards instead.”

And he lunged forward, moving in a flash despite the blood that still covered him. He was injured, hurt so badly, and—

He killed a man while she watched. Yanked the gun from the guy’s hands. Turned the weapon back on the man in white and shot him. Blasted him in the heart and then aimed the gun on the others. “You should move faster,” he told them.