Was that fear in Wyatt’s voice? Eve couldn’t tell, and since she wasn’t looking at him, there was no way to read the emotion that might be on his face. Her attention was on Thirteen because . . . she could’ve sworn that she’d just felt him take a breath.

Impossible.

Sure, vampires could survive an assortment of attacks, but this guy was no vampire. Eve would bet her life on that. She’d seen him die. It was—

His lashes lifted. His eyes locked on her. Only his eyes weren’t black anymore. They were red, burning like flames. Burning so bright—burning, burning . . .

Hard hands yanked Eve back. She fell onto the floor, dragging Wyatt and the guard down with her. Their hands were on her. They were the ones pulling her away from Thirteen.

But almost instantly, Wyatt and Mitchell were back on their feet, and hauling her across the room with them.

Eve let them drag her away, but she couldn’t take her gaze off Thirteen. Smoke was rising from his flesh, as if he were burning from the inside. That gaze—it looked like she was staring straight into hell. A man’s eyes shouldn’t flicker with fire.

His did.

The smoke rising from his body began to thicken.

“Out!” Wyatt’s bark. The guard grabbed one of her hands. Wyatt grabbed the other. They all stumbled out into the hallway. Wyatt closed the door and quickly punched in a security code to lock the room down.

Eve memorized that code. Because what locked a man in . . . might just be able to let him out.

Then they all were racing back to that two-way mirror. Because it wasn’t just smoke rising from Thirteen’s body any longer. Flames were covering him.

“Oh, my God.” The stunned whisper slipped from her.

Thirteen’s head turned. Through the flames, he gazed at her.

Every muscle in her body tightened with pure terror. She’d never seen anything like this before. How? How could he be standing? He was standing now. Not on his knees any longer. Not hanging from the chains. Standing.

The flames slowly died. They’d melted his clothes away. Ash drifted around him. Thirteen stood there, naked, strong, his body absolutely perfect.

No sign of the bullet wound that had ended his life.

Only . . . his life hadn’t really ended, and he was still watching her.

“W-what is he?” Eve managed to ask.

Thirteen pulled on the chains that still bound him. Chains that had to be impervious to fire.

“I don’t know . . .” Wyatt told her, and there was no missing the excitement that hummed in his words, “but I’m going to find out.”

Thirteen’s gaze cut to the doctor.

He sees us. She didn’t know how, but the man who should have been dead could see right through that protective glass.

“Another successful experiment.” Wyatt turned away from the observation mirror and headed toward the corridor that lead back to his office. “Tomorrow, we’ll try drowning. It will be interesting to see if the test subject’s flames burn through the water . . .”

Eve didn’t move. She couldn’t.

Tomorrow, we’ll try drowning.

Dr. Richard Wyatt was some kind of seriously messed-up Frankenstein scientist. She put her hand to the glass. She didn’t know what Thirteen was, but she couldn’t let Wyatt keep torturing him.

“I’ll stop him,” she whispered.

But Thirteen shook his head. Then he mouthed two simple words: I will.

Richard Wyatt glanced over his shoulder just in time to see Eve put her hand to the glass—as if she were trying to touch the test subject. She should have been terrified, desperate to get away after what she’d just witnessed.

The others had been.

But, no, she was still there, staring in fascination at Subject Thirteen. Just as the subject was staring back at her.

How absolutely perfect. The experiment had been even more productive than he could have hoped. This new development could open up a whole world of unexpected possibilities.

A perfect killing machine. An immortal assassin.

One that only he could control.

The experiment had been a definite success. He could hardly wait for tomorrow’s show to start.

Those flames were so beautiful. Would they burn Eve’s delicate skin? Or would Thirteen finally start to show his true strength?

For her sake, Thirteen had better hold on to his control. Because the lovely Eve wouldn’t just be an observer for tomorrow’s event.

She’d be a participant.

CHAPTER TWO

Eve slipped silently down the corridor that led to Subject Thirteen’s holding room. The facility was dead quiet—nearly everyone had retired for the night and the place was on lockdown.