The memory made me tense again, sent a surge of adrenaline through me that made me realize I had tomove.
Maybe I wanted to fight, maybe I wanted to hurt, but I didn’t wantthat.
Not again.
I bunched my legs and kicked out, rising up to set my teeth into his shoulder. The man holding me let out a lowgrunt and opened his arms. I’d been expecting him to fight, so the unceremonious way he dumped me to the ground took me by surprise, knocking the air from my lungs. When I tried to scramble back, he stepped forward, planting one booted foot onto the center of my chest. I had time to look him over then—dark pants with more than a few pockets stuffed full, and collars strapped to the loops of fabric. A black hoodie with the sleeves cut off, exposing tattoos and scars all along his arms.
I jerked my gaze up to his face. Dark hair tumbled messily into his eyes—fuck, they looked like pictures of the ocean I’d seen in books. It was always faintly tinged with red now, mucky instead of the blue-green endlessness that looked down at me with curiosity.
“Did you tear your stitches?” He wasn’t even fazed that I’d tried to fight him—he didn’t react to the little rivulet of blood pouring down his shoulder where my teeth had set into his skin. He just tilted his head and looked me over, like he was trying to decide if he wanted to press down with his full weight and crush the air out of my lungs or not.
“What the fuck do youwant?” I hissed, though I couldn’t deny the slight tingles starting to trail through my body… because I could see it in his eyes.
Death.
The man who loomed above me was big, broad, dangerous.
I’m exactly what you’ve been looking for.
“If I move, are you going to try to run? I mean…” The grin that crossed his lips was sinful. “I’m not saying that wouldn’t be fun, but I don’t know how far you’d get right now. You’re pretty torn up.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him I was stronger than I looked, but the last thing I needed was to let him know about my physical advantages. I still wasn’t sure what those damn scientists had injected me with, or why they’d been trying to figure out how to build some kind of infected-human hybrid, but they’d only got as far as amplifying some of the side effects of being a carrier.
I healed faster.
I felt less pain.
I pushed myself when I shouldn’t have, and I could still remember every time Bishop’s voice had called out for me, telling me I was going to get myselfkilled.
Slow down, Aubrey.I could hear his voice in my head now, and I only had one simple answer.
“No.”
The man above me smiled, dragging his boot from my chest and leaning down to wrap his fingers through my restraints. When he hauled me to my feet, I felt the pull of stitches at my side—I remembered the infected had tried to tear me open. Honestly, I’d been so exhausted when it attacked me, I might have actually been done for. Right there, so close to the same damn place that had taken Bishop.
It was almost poetic, but the big guy with blue eyes and tattoos meticulously inked into his arms and neck had apparently stopped that from happening.
I hope he wasn’t waiting for me to thank him.
“Listen…” I trailed off, and he shot me a look.
“Phoenix.”
What kind of name was Phoenix? I shook my head. “Phoenix, right. Well, Phoenix, we’ll both be better off if you just let me go. I’m nothing but bad luck.”
“I don’t think so.” There was no hesitation in his voice.
“The Order is going to come for me. You saw my tags.” Could I warn him off? With his hands through the restraints binding my arms together and his sheer size, paired with the injury I could still feel tugging along my side… even if I was capable and maybe a little suicidal, I knew I couldn’t just get away.
“So you’re pretty and you’re bringing dinner.” He didn’t look at me when he said it, just kept leading me forward. “Not very convincing. Besides, won’t they be hunting you the same as they would a raider after what you did toBen?”
He looked at me then, his eyes burning beneath the black paint, a sort of wicked delight that he’d caught me in my bullshit creeping across his expression.
“You were watching me.” It wasn’t a question.
“You kill like you were born for it.” The smile that drifted across his face wasn’tgood.It was a warning contained in the curve of scarred lips and a flash of sharp teeth. It was everything I’d been chasing all day while I was trying to replace the pain I felt with physical hurt, with danger, with the sensation of brushing shoulders with death.
Phoenix was the physical manifestation of all the ways I wanted to die, and he was looking at me like he wanted to devour my pain.
