Playing With Fire (13 page)

“I was watching you die.” Brutal words that drove her fear higher.

“Then you saved me,” she said stubbornly. “Because your tears—”

“I did
not
cry for you.”

She spun away from him. She wasn't about to put on that damn exam gown so she started yanking open closets and drawers and—

“I . . . got you clothing. I wanted you to have everything you might need. It's there.” He pointed to a bag near the old table.

She grabbed for the bag and hurriedly dressed. Jeans. Underwear. T-shirt. Even shoes. All a perfect fit.

“You remembered everything.” She knew he truly had. Once dressed, she turned toward him. “So why are you acting like you don't remember what happened in New Orleans?” Why was he trying to rip her world away? “You had to save me. I'd be dead if you hadn't—”

“I thought you were dying.” He was still naked.
Damn it.
The guy didn't even seem aware of his nudity. She was aware of everything about him.

“You were in my arms, and your blood was all over me. You were staring up at me, trying to talk, but you were too far gone.”

Goosebumps had risen on her flesh. “That's when you saved me.”

He shook his head.

She grabbed his arms. “Why are you lying to me?” He'd never lied to her before. “Sabine didn't save me. I know the wounds I had—would have killed me. The only way I could have survived was if a phoenix saved me.” Cassie wanted to shake him. “Why can't you just admit that you actually care enough about me that you cried? After everything we've been through together, the feelings aren't just mine. You have to—”

“I did not cry.”

Her heart was breaking.

Dante spoke softly. “You . . . healed yourself.”

Her nails dug into his arms, then she was pushing away from him. “That's not possible.”

He laughed, and the sound was rough and bitter. “You're talking to a myth, and you want to tell me about possible?”

Cassie wrapped her arms around herself. They'd made love. He'd held her through her fear.

I did not cry.

If he hadn't saved her, if he hadn't shed a tear to spare her life in those last desperate moments, then what did that mean for them?

He doesn't care.
The cold seemed to deepen around her. His fire had never been farther away.

“Your father experimented on you. The first time we met”—Dante's eyes seemed to cloud with the memory—“you were only eight. And you told me . . . you told me that he'd killed you.”

She didn't want to think about that memory. She'd shoved it so far back into her mind.

“He'd killed you, but you were there, walking around, talking, trying to save
me.
”

“I was a child, confused—”

“You were an experiment.” The faint lines deepened around Dante's eyes. “Just like the rest of us. Your father made your blood into poison, but he did something else, too. He gave your body the ability to regenerate. To heal.”

“I was
dying
in New Orleans.” Choking on her own blood. Her last memory had been of his face, then . . . darkness. When she'd opened her eyes again, he'd been gone.

I was alive.
She'd been so sure her survival had been because of him.

“Your heart stopped. You did die, but you came back.” His body was so still. “Not the way I do. There were no flames and no tears. You returned on your own. Your skin mended before my eyes, and then you took your first breath once more.”

Her world was splintering apart. If Dante hadn't saved her—

Then he doesn't love me.

And she . . . was truly nothing more than an experiment.

“That was why Jon came after me,” she said, voice weak.

“He must have found some files . . . something that told him what I could do.” He'd wanted to replicate her healing, not just her poison.

A body that could survive anything, minus the trip to hell that the phoenixes took with each of their risings.

An experiment.

Nausea rolled in her stomach.

“Cassie—”

“I-I need a moment. I need—”
what he can't give me.
What he'd never be able to give. If he'd just watched her die and felt nothing . . . She'd been so sure that her future was tied with Dante. That when his memory came back, he'd realize they were linked.

But he didn't care.

And she . . . Cassie didn't even know what she was anymore.

He didn't stop her as she hurried into the bathroom. Didn't stop her as she slammed the door and clutched desperately for the bathroom sink so that she wouldn't fall to the floor.

She'd been so ridiculously sure of Dante. Even with his memory gone, she'd thought that the emotions that connected them were still there, right beneath the surface.

She stared at her ashen reflection in the mirror. There was no connection between them. Dante felt nothing for her.

Her world seemed to be crumbling around her.

 

Dante's hands clenched into fists. He wanted to run after her, to kick in that door—and what?

He'd given her the truth, one that was long overdue. Cassie saw herself as a human, but she was something far more than that.

Death hadn't been able to take her.

In New Orleans, he'd been frozen, mute, so desperate when she died—but then she'd opened her eyes and seen him again.

No fire. Just life.

The water was running in the bathroom. He was very much afraid that she'd turned on the water to drown out the sound of crying. He didn't want her to cry.

Dante jerked on his jeans. Pulled on a white T-shirt he'd stashed in the cabin when he'd made a fast run for her clothing. Even took the time to put his boots back on.

Cassie didn't come out of the bathroom.

His breath exhaled in a hard rush. They had more talking to do. As much as Cassie wanted to head back to Mississippi, he couldn't let her go. Another male phoenix would recognize her for what she was.

And Dante couldn't allow that.

The others would have to fend for themselves. He'd crossed a line with Cassie last night, and there would be no other for her.

They'd head north. To Canada. Hell, maybe they'd even cross an ocean soon. He'd been away from his home in France for far too long.

Cassie still hadn't come from the bathroom.

He walked toward that closed door. He rapped lightly. “Cassie?”

He heard only the running of the water.

“You can't stay in there forever.”
And you can't hide from me.
He knew that was exactly what she was trying to do. Not happening. He'd seen all of her last night. She'd seen all of him. “Cassie?”

He heard nothing but—

The revving of an engine.

Dante kicked in the door. The bathroom was empty. The window—a damn tiny window—had been left open.

“Cassie!” He bellowed her name then he was spinning around. Running back through the cabin and outside. He saw the whip of her hair as she raced away from him, riding hell-fast on the motorcycle.

And leaving him behind.

For a moment, he just stared at her in shock. She hadn't left him. He'd
saved
her at that ranch. He'd taken her in that bed. She
wouldn't
just leave him.

Dust drifted in the motorcycle's path.

She'd fucking just left him.

He whirled around and stomped back into the cabin. The water was still running. He yanked it off.
Left. Me.
He knew where she was going—to Mississippi. To meet up with the other phoenixes and with the werewolf who seemed to matter far too much to her.

Inside the cabin, he smelled her. That light, seductive scent. The scent that had nearly driven him out of his mind so many times.

She ran from me.

Because she'd known what he wanted? Her . . . far away from any others.

He inhaled deeper and stalked toward the bed. The sheets were tangled, and her scent was deeper there. More lush.

He grabbed the sheets. Yanked them from the bed. Hadn't she realized what was happening between them? There was no escape. There was—

Blood, on the sheets. Her blood.

From a wound that she'd received at the ranch? But, no, she hadn't been bleeding by the time they'd gotten to the cabin. Her healing ability had kicked in.

His fingers clenched around the sheets as he remembered the slick, incredibly tight feel of her.

Mine.

His breath came harder and the sheets—burned in his hands. Ashes drifted to the wooden floor.

“You're not getting away.”

She could be afraid, she could run, but there would be no escape.

His gaze swept the cabin, making sure they'd left nothing of import behind. Then, just to be safe, because he didn't want any others following them, he let his flames take the old cabin. He walked out as the crackling fire rose up the walls.

There was no other motorcycle. No other transportation. He'd have to run up to the main road, then hitchhike. Dante knew that he didn't look like the kind of guy most folks would want to pick up.

People just didn't jump at the chance to give the devil a ride.

No matter. He would
make
someone pick him up. He had to stop Cassie before she reached Mississippi.

The flames devoured the cabin, and he watched it burn. Watched until only embers remained. Then he waved his hands, quieting the fire.

Only the most powerful of the phoenixes could stir
and
soothe the fire.

Cain O'Connor wouldn't have power to match his. If the two of them came face-to-face, Cain would be the one to die.

Phoenixes had a drive to seek dominance. One of their flaws. To dominate was to survive.

When phoenixes got close, they fought.

Until one was dead.

Dante strode toward the narrow highway. He didn't hear the rumble of the motorcycle's engine any longer. Cassie was long gone. Riding with no helmet. Even though he knew firsthand just how little damage death could truly do to her, he wanted her to be safe.

She'd been driving far too fast.

He stepped onto the old, broken highway. Cassie shouldn't drive when she was so upset. It wasn't good for her.

An engine growled in the distance behind him. The sound was deeper, rougher, than the motorcycle's had been. Dante paused and looked over his shoulder. In the rising morning light, he could just make out the shape of a big rig, heading steadily toward him. His eyes narrowed, and he headed into the middle of the road.

Then he waited.

The big rig ate up the highway. Its horn blared a warning for him to move.

He wasn't moving. That big rig
was
stopping.

Dante held his ground and the big rig came ever closer.

“A
uthorities are investigatng what appears to be an arson out on Piersview Road. A late night blaze at the ranch there claimed the lives of two dozen people.” The camera zoomed in close on the reporter's tense face. But, behind him, Cassie could see the body bags being wheeled away from the blackened remains of the ranch.

The ranch that
she'd
been at last night.

Her eyes squeezed shut.

“Miss? Miss, are you all right?”

It was the waitress's voice. Cassie had pulled in at the first pit stop she found—a little diner in the middle of nowhere. She'd scavenged in the motorcycle's saddlebags and found a few bucks. Since she hadn't eaten in—jeez, she couldn't even remember when—she'd been desperate for food.

Except the pancakes weren't exactly sitting well with her.

“Hon, are you sick?”

Heartsick, yes.
That blaze . . . all those people . . . had Dante done that?

Her eyes opened, and she forced a false smile for the waitress. “I'm fine, thank you.”

The woman, who looked like she was close to Cassie's own twenty-nine years, gave her one more worried glance before heading off to refill coffee at the next table.

Cassie's gaze returned to the TV and to the reporter who was going over the harrowing tale of death and arson.

Two dozen dead.

She'd woken up during the night. Dante hadn't been beside her. His spot on the bed had been empty. When she'd called out to him, he'd come to her side fast enough but . . .

How long had he been gone from that bed? Long enough to go back to the ranch and let his fire loose?

Maybe she didn't really know him well at all.

She tossed her precious dollars down on the table and rose on legs that still weren't quite steady. She eased down the narrow aisle between the tables and pushed against the door, ignoring the little jingle as she hurried outside.

She'd parked the motorcycle on the side of the building, trying to keep it out of sight.

She hadn't been mentioned on the newscast. Neither had Dante. With Jon dead, no one would be pointing the finger at them, at least, not until his bosses figured out what was happening. That should buy her enough time to cross back into Mississippi.

She rounded the side of the little diner.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

Dante was sitting on the motorcycle.

Cassie shook her head.

He lifted a brow. “It wasn't very nice to run, was it? To just leave without a word, after all I did for you.”

Two dozen dead.

She didn't think. Just spun away and leaped forward, hoping to get back around to the diner's entrance so that she could get help.

But there was never a chance for help. Dante grabbed her, locked one arm around her waist, and he put his other hand over her mouth. “You're not getting away again.”

She shoved her elbow into his ribs, and the jerk just laughed at her.

She'd actually thought he was the good guy? The one who'd help her save people?

Talk about being delusional. At least her blinders were finally off. Shattered, somewhere in the dirt of the Texas road because yep, they were in Texas. It hadn't taken her long to figure that one out.

She heard voices. Men. Talking. Coming toward them.

Dante spun her toward him. “If you try to get them to help you, it won't end well for them.”

Who the hell was this man? She seemed to be looking at a stranger.

“Don't call out.” With that last warning, he moved his hand from her mouth, and, of course, she wasn't about to risk any humans. Humans would never be any match for him.

His arms wrapped around her, and he pulled her flush against his body.

His lips took hers.

She was so surprised that she didn't even move at first. His mouth pressed against hers, and his tongue swept over her lower lip. A shudder went through her, and as much as she wanted to say that shudder was from fear—

It wasn't.

Her body was far too attuned to his.

He licked her lower lip once more, and her mouth opened for him.

I'm biding my time. I'll run when I can.

A wolf whistle sounded in the air behind them. The humans. And they were seeing exactly what Dante wanted them to see. An amorous couple. Not a woman in fear for her life.

Two could play at this game.

Her hands rose—when had he let them go?—and her fingers tunneled in his hair. She pulled him down, closer, harder against her, and she was the one who took over that kiss. He'd thought to seduce her? Well, just because she didn't have a long history of lovers didn't mean that she didn't know a few tricks.

She bit his lower lip, a light sting, then she was the one licking him. Sucking his tongue. Tasting him and making him groan as he clutched her ever closer.

If he hadn't been a walking, talking disappointment to her, she would have blown his mind in the next bout of lovemaking.

Your loss, jerk.

The footsteps shuffled past them as the men kept heading toward their cars. A few moments later, she heard their vehicles pull away.

That was her cue to pull away from Dante, only he wasn't letting her go. His arousal stretched against the front of her body. Long and hard and thick. His hands were on her hips, and he was holding tight.

She kneed him in the groin.

Cassie didn't know if she hurt him or shocked him, but Dante let her go as he swore. She stumbled back, raising her hand to her lips. She could still taste him.

Dammit. I want more of that taste.

She would
not
be having more.

“I didn't realize . . . you liked things rough,” Dante growled.

Her heart skipped a beat at that. Images flew through her mind—
no.
“Why?” she demanded.

“Because I can give you anything you like,” Dante said as he straightened.

No, she hadn't hurt him. Figured.

“All you have to do is ask.” He stepped toward her.

Cassie threw up her hands. “Why did you kill them?”

His unblinking gaze stared back at her. “I've killed a lot of people, sweetheart, so you're going to have to be far more specific.”

“The people at the ranch—the guards, the researchers,” she gritted out.
The ones who hurt me.
“I asked you to let them live.”

A shrug rolled his shoulders. “So you did.”

“And you lied to me!”
What about him isn't a lie?
“You waited until I slept, then you went back and burned the place to the ground.”

That same furrow—a thin line—appeared between his brows. “What makes you think I did such a thing?”

“Uh, because you're a phoenix? The only one in the area. And because I
saw
the destruction on the TV in that diner not five minutes ago.” Her breath heaved out as she dropped her hand. “Two dozen people were killed in that blaze, Dante. Two dozen. They weren't perfect, but did they all deserve to die like that?”

“I have no idea what they deserved. I'm not their judge.”

“Just their executioner?”

A muscle jerked in his jaw. “I did not kill them.”

“I saw the wreckage! The place was destroyed. It wasn't—”

“If I had burned it, I wouldn't have left any bodies behind. There would have only been ash left.”

The nausea rolled through her again.

He frowned. “Cassie, are you all right?”

“No, I'm talking to an insane phoenix, and I just found out that I'm some kind of freak experiment.” She huffed out a breath. “Why are you here?
How
are you here?”

His gaze—that couldn't be real worry in his dark stare—swept over her face.

“I'm here because this is where you are.” He took another step toward her. “I can follow you anywhere.”

She retreated automatically, and her back hit the diner's brick wall.
Great.
Bricks to her back, a phoenix to her front. “How? How did you find me here? How did you find me at the ranch? And how did—”

“I guess you could say that I'm . . . tuned to you. There is no place you could go on this earth that I could not follow.”

“Provided you wanted to follow me.” The words just snapped from her. “You were too busy with the vamp in Chicago to—”

“My memories of you hadn't crystalized by then. In time, I would have found you.” His words, so very certain, sent a tendril of unease through her.

But since she was walking on a big old knife-edge of fear, she didn't let the extra unease stop her. “Did you kill those people at the ranch?”

He shook his head. “I swear to you, I let them live.” His lips thinned. “Though I'll confess, I did entertain the thought of going back to finish them off.”

He'd
entertained
the thought?

“Why are you looking so shocked? You knew what I was all the time I was caged at Genesis, but you still let me out of my prison.”

A monster . . . a killer . . . that was what the guards had always said. Dante belonged in maximum security because of the threat he posed to the world.

She'd never believed those whispers. She'd looked into his eyes and thought she'd seen a man who needed her.

But then, she'd also thought Jon had needed her.

She had to get a freaking clue.

“How are you tuned to me?” Cassie wanted to know. If she was ever going to get away from him, she'd have to be sure he didn't follow.

His lips twisted. Almost a smile. As close as she'd ever seen. She hadn't expected it to look so cruel.

“Ah, Cassie. If I tell you that, you'll just try to escape, and that's not on the agenda for us.”

“What is on the agenda?” Though she probably didn't want to know.

He stared back at her.

“I'll tell you what's on
my
agenda,” Cassie snapped. “I'm going to Mississippi. People there are counting on me.” Without Dante's cooperation, she wasn't sure how to begin helping them.

“You're going to the other phoenixes.”

“Yes.”

His gaze studied her face. “Then I will come with you.”

Wait. What?

He shook his head as he read her expression. “What did you think I would do? Hunt you down, force you to come with me?”

“I didn't think you'd hunt me at all. I thought . . . I thought you'd be free of me.”

His hands flattened against the bricks behind her, and she was caged between his body and the wall. The wonderful, enticing heat of his flesh seemed to wrap around her.

“What makes you think I want to be free?” Dante asked.

Maybe because he didn't love her? Maybe because he'd been spouting about Canada?

“While I hunted you—I mean, while I followed you . . .”

Her eyes narrowed.

“I realized that I had been too hasty. Perhaps it would be good to meet my own kind. There have been too many battles between us over the years—the centuries. It's time to move past that. When I meet the others, I won't be alone any longer.”

“No, you won't.” Hope was trying to stir within her again. If she got him to Mississippi with the other phoenixes, maybe they could all convince Dante to join the research. She could find a cure and undo the nightmares her father had caused.

“So you will take me to them.” His mouth was just inches from her own. “And you won't try to leave me again.”

Her gaze searched his. “Promise me,” Cassie demanded.

His brows rose.

“Promise me,” she said again, “that you didn't have anything to do with that fire at the ranch. That those people—that you
didn't
hurt them.”

“And you'd believe my word?”

“I don't think you've ever lied to me.” Even though there were times she would have preferred his lies.

Maybe a lie of love over the years wouldn't have made her heart feel so battered.

His head moved in a small nod. “I promise you, I didn't kill those people. I spent my night with you.” A slight pause. His gaze warmed. “In you.”

Her sex clenched as the hot memory pierced through her.
Damn him.

“And”—his mouth came closer, but instead of kissing her lips, his mouth pressed lightly to her cheek—“I'm the only one who has enjoyed that pleasure.”

Her cheeks flushed.

“Why is that?” Dante asked even as he pressed one more kiss to the curve of her jaw. “Why me?”

Because I love you.

He hadn't lied to her, but she couldn't give him the truth. Besides, wasn't it a truth he should already know?

Clueless phoenix.

There hadn't been any other lovers because she couldn't sleep with one man while loving another. She just wasn't made that way. Hell, at this point, she was wondering just how she
was
made.

“No answer?” Dante chided, his mouth over her neck. Over the pulse that raced so frantically. “That's not like you. Usually you have an answer for everything.” He licked her skin. Nipped her.

Her panties were getting wet. She was angry, afraid, and aroused. All because of him. Always . . .
him.

Her hands flattened on his chest. “We need to go.” There were a whole lot of miles to cover between there and Belle.

He didn't stop kissing her neck.

Her legs wanted to become jelly. So she stiffened her knees. Pushed harder against him. “Dante!”

His head lifted. “I love the way you say my name.”

What?

“Husky and rough, trembling a little with that faint Georgia accent you never quite lost.” His gaze swept over her face. “When you call my name, it makes me want to fuck you.”

A car horn echoed in the distance.

He gave a little laugh. Not the bitter sound from before, but softer, rougher. Nearly a real laugh. “Don't worry, I'm not fucking you here.”