Gone.

The fire erupted, consuming him, and when hell reached for him with greedy claws, Cain didn’t fight.

The flames raced over her skin. Eve felt them, a warm touch along her body. Not pain.

She didn’t feel any pain, not anymore.

Her eyes opened. Fire was around her. Such chaos. A slow drumming began, shaking her chest, then growing faster, harder, filling her whole body.

She gasped, sucking in air, near starved for breath. She tasted flames. Smoke.

There were raised voices. Screaming for her. Telling her that help was there.

Where?

She sat up and saw the flames. The building—the building they’d been in had been destroyed, but she was just outside of the broken shell that remained. On the ground. Eve glanced down at her clothes. Even in the darkness she could see the blood that soaked her shirt.

Her blood. She’d been shot. The detective—he’d hit her accidentally. She’d been trying to help him and—

Her hand touched her chest. There was no wound. She started to shake. There should have been a wound. The bullet had ripped into her. There was a hole in her shirt from the impact.

And there was a bullet next to her on the ground.

She touched it carefully. Confused, lost, body trembling. “Cain.” His name slipped from her. Cain would tell her what had happened. He’d help her. He’d—

He was burning. Just a few feet away from her. She could see his body through the flames. Big, strong.

Eve rose to her feet. Hands were reaching for her, trying to pull her away from the fire and wreckage. She looked to the right. Saw a firefighter. An EMT was with him. They were walking, but she couldn’t hear them, not over the rush of the flames and the frantic beat of her own heart.

She was alive when she should be dead. And Cain—Cain . . .

“Come back to me,” she whispered.

Through the flames, she saw his head jerk.

“Come back to me!” Eve screamed even as the firefighter dragged her away from the blaze. No, he didn’t understand. The flames wouldn’t hurt her. Cain wouldn’t hurt her.

He’d saved her. Somehow, he had . . .

The tears of a phoenix . . .

The memory of Wyatt’s words whispered through her mind.

Holy hell. Had Cain . . . had he cried for her?

Her breath choked in her lungs. Eve shook her head, tried to surge up—and couldn’t move. She was being strapped down on a gurney.

“Relax, ma’am, you’re safe.” A woman gazed down at her. Blond, with big, wide brown eyes. “We’re getting you to a hospital. Okay? Just stop fighting us.”

But Eve couldn’t stop fighting. She had to get back to Cain.

Someone was cutting open her shirt. Another EMT.

“So much blood . . . but where’s the wound?” he demanded.

There wasn’t a wound. Not anymore. Richard Wyatt had been right. The bastard had actually been right . . .

I can’t get him to cry. No matter how much pain I give him.

Wyatt had never been able to break Cain, so there’d been no way to see if the phoenix had healing powers.

Maybe when you die . . . perhaps he’ll break then.

Had she died? Had Cain somehow brought her back?

His tears . . . legend has it that they can heal.

They had. Her breath choked out. The tears of a phoenix could cheat death. Only his physical pain hadn’t brought forth those tears. Something . . . else . . . had.

Love?

She tried to push up and look back at Cain, but the straps held her back. She could just make out the fire around him . . .

The firefighters were racing toward him.

And he—

Can he see me?

The ambulance doors slammed shut.

They were taking her from him.

Her heart still beats.

The beats called to him, the faintest whispers. She’d been alive. Watching him. Asking . . .

Come back to me.

Men in heavy masks were in his path. Trying to stop him from reaching her? Nothing could stop him.

No one.

He sent his fire at them. They ran back, screaming.

But the ambulance took her. Its sirens echoed in the night as it raced down the road.

No. Not getting away.

He wasn’t losing her.

The beast was out, and the man within only knew grief and desperation.

Get her. Need her.

He leaped into the air. Moved faster than he’d ever moved in his life. The fire gave him power. The beast gave him speed. When he hit the ground, the road buckled beneath him. He wasn’t behind the ambulance any longer. He was in front of it. The vehicle hurtled toward him, coming with lights flashing.