Playing With Fire

by Cynthia Eden

  Her breath stilled in her lungs.

  His hand came up and lightly trailed over her arm. The warmth of his touch seemed to banish some of her chill.

  “What did he do to you?”

  The usual. Strapped her to a table. Took her blood. Her DNA. Samples from her bones and—“What they always do to the people that Genesis wants to experiment on.”

  “You aren’t an experiment.”

  Yes, she was. There was a reason her blood was poison to vampires. “I’ve been an experiment since I was eight years old.” Her father had never seen her as a child.

  He’d seen her as a weapon.

  “I had a brother once,” she whispered. He was dead, too . . . though she’d discovered his death only recently. Before he’d died, she’d learned that he’d become . . . twisted . . . just like their father.

  Would she become that way, too? Was she already?

  “My father gave him the . . . same injections that he’d given to me.” At first, anyway. Later, she’d been given separate treatments.

  Because she’d died during one of those experiments, they’d had to change up her dosage levels.

  “I remember . . .” Her voice came out quiet and husky.

  “We were tossed into a pit with vampires once. My father wanted to see if they’d come after us, or if our poison blood would keep them away.”

  Dante’s arm curled around her, and he pulled her back against the cradle of his body. His warmth surrounded her. Made her feel safe.... when she knew safety was a lie.

  “Did they bite you?”

  “One did, but when he died, no one else touched me. They didn’t bite my brother. The vampires . . . were different, enhanced.” How she hated that word. They’d been soldiers. Volunteers who’d been given a trip to hell.

  Dante’s hold tightened around her.

  “That was the first time I ever killed anyone.” The first time, not the last, despite her efforts to be careful. She’d always tried to stay away from the vampires. One sip of her poisoned blood would kill most of them. “I didn’t want to kill Jon.”

  “You should have let me burn him. I wanted to kill him.”

  She knew that. It was part of their problem. “There’s so much darkness in you.” Her words were hushed. “It scares me sometimes.” Maybe she shouldn’t have said those words, but she was long past the point of a filter. Too tired. Too broken. Too everything.

  In the morning, she could pretend to be strong again.

  “If you’re so afraid”—his words rumbled behind her—“then why are you in my arms now?”

  “Because you’re the only one who’s ever made me feel whole.”

  Her eyes were still closed. Hiding in the dark, that was her way.

  Silence filled the small cabin.

  She became aware of his steady breathing behind her. In. Out. In . . .

  Her own faster breaths slowed to match his.

  Dante didn’t speak again.

  “Thank you,” she finally told him.

  “You shouldn’t thank me.” The words seemed to be a warning.

  She shook her head slightly against the pillow. “You saved me.”

  “No, I just didn’t let you get away.”

  Her heartbeat wasn’t racing any longer. He was behind her, around her, and nothing could hurt her while her phoenix was close.

  Cassie stopped fighting the lethargy that wanted to pull her down into a deep sleep. She stopped fighting and just let go.

  She wondered if she’d see Dante in her dreams . . . or if she’d see Jon’s ghost haunting her.

  Cassie was asleep. He could leave her, slip away, and be back before she awoke.

  She’d curled into herself, like a frightened child. Her voice had trembled with fear and pain, and she’d thanked him.

  The woman should have been running from him.

  He glanced toward the door. He could go back to that ranch. Burn the place with a thought.

  There’s so much darkness in you. It scares me sometimes.

  She had asked him to spare the humans at that ranch. He leaned closer to her, and his lips pressed lightly against her cool cheek.

  She whimpered in her sleep, and the fear in that small sound tore at him.

  Cassie still needed him. Someone had to keep her nightmares at bay.

  Carefully, he turned her so that she faced him. He pulled her closer, lowering her head over his heart and threading his fingers through her hair.

  The humans at that ranch were lucky. The battered angel in his arms had given them a reprieve. If they were smart, they’d run fast and hard, and they would never cross his path again.

  As for Cassie . . . her body was a slight weight against his. His beast was quiet, as close to calm as it ever was, and he realized that he could just hold her like that, all night long.

  So he did.

  “How long have you been here?” Cassie’s voice was quiet as she stood behind the two-way mirror.

  He knew that she’d realized—months ago—that he could see past the reinforced glass.

  She stood less than a foot behind the mirror, her eyes up and clear—and on his.

  “Too many years,” he said softly as he headed toward the glass and to her.

  “I remember you,” she told him. “When I was a kid . . .”

  She was little more than a kid. Nineteen, twenty?

  “When you do get out, please don’t ever come back. Just run and run.”

  His lips tightened. “What makes you think they’ll ever let me out?” He was their prized specimen. They tortured him, they killed him, but they weren’t letting him go.

  She smiled, and the sight stopped his breath for a moment. “I know you’ll get out . . . because I’ll help you.”

  Her hand lifted. Touched the glass.

  His hand lifted too, as if pulled by her.

  But then the guards came in . . .

  And Cassie left him.

  Dante climbed from the bed as the moonlight streamed through the old blinds. So many memories were in his head, fighting to get to the surface and break free.

  He hated some of the memories.

  Treasured others.

  Her hand, rising against the glass.

  He never would have thought to find a glimpse of gold in that hell, but he had.

  His gaze fell back on the bed. On Cassie. He’d known just what she was the first minute he’d seen her. When she’d only been eight, the promise had been there.

  He could have broken out of Genesis sooner, but he’d needed to wait. He’d had to see for sure if she would become—

  “Dante!” She screamed his name as she jerked up in bed. He crossed to her instantly. “I’m here.”

  A shudder shook her slender frame and then her hands were around him, holding tight. “I was afraid it was a dream . . . that I was back there. They were going to keep hurting me.”

  I should have gone back and finished them.

  “It wasn’t a dream,” he said as he shoved down his fury.

  “You’re safe.”

  Her mouth pressed over his shoulder. Her lips were soft and silken. Her breath blew lightly over his skin.

  Then she pulled away. Looked up at him. Her gaze searched his and her green eyes widened. “Dante.”

  She seemed to finally be seeing him.

  No, she wasn’t seeing him, but rather seeing in to him.

  “You remember, don’t you? You remember me?”

  “I wouldn’t have been able to track you if I hadn’t.” His voice had roughened because . . . she wasn’t hurt any longer. No scratches or bruises on her skin. Completely healed.

  She was in bed. Alone with him.

  He’d wanted her for so long.

  He’d been close to having what he wanted.

  He would have what he wanted.

  “What all do you remember?” Her voice was husky. Hopeful?

  His fingers lifted and brushed back her hair. “Every damn thing.”

  I was
going to marry her.

  Dante’s jaw locked.

  Once, she’d been a virgin. She’d come to him, sneaking past the security, offering him heaven.

  He’d been a fool to refuse.

  I knew what she was. I should have held on tight.

  Her lips lifted into a smile. “You know me?”

  He didn’t return her smile. “I’m going to devour you.” Fair warning.

  Her smile dimmed. “Dante?”

  He pushed her back onto the bed. The control he’d held so effortlessly while she slept—cradled in his arms—was shredding with each passing second. She wasn’t hurt. She wasn’t trapped in a nightmare.

  Cassie was in his arms, and he meant to have her. “Are you afraid?” Dante asked her.

  “The fire . . . what if . . . ?”

  He knew what the idiots at Genesis had said—in moments of extreme passion, his fire would rage out of control. That he would hurt—kill—a lover.

  That wouldn’t happen with her.

  Couldn’t.

  Because the phoenix wasn’t allowed to hurt her.

  I knew what she was . . .

  “I’ll keep you safe,” he promised her.

  His lips pressed to hers. He had to kiss her. He wanted her to forget the man she’d shot and any other bastard out there. The others would no longer have a place in her mind or heart.

  There would only be room for him.

  Her mouth opened beneath his . . . eager and sweet. He thrust his tongue past her lips and savored her.

  So good. She’d always tasted of innocence and sin, a combination that had made him crazy so many times.

  Every time he got his hands on her.

  He should go carefully. Use finesse and charm.

  But Dante had never been one for charm, and if he didn’t get inside Cassie, he thought he might just go insane.

  Been there . . .

  And he’d left the flames behind to prove his descent into madness.

  His hand slid between them. She was wearing some kind of little gown—like a hospital gown?—and when he shoved it up, he touched the smooth silk of her panties.

  He’d come so close to tasting her there.

  Mine.

  His head lifted. Their eyes met.

  De-fucking-vour.

  Her breath caught as he pushed down her body. “Dante, you don’t—”

  He put his mouth on her, right through the panties. He pressed down, kissing that silk, then blowing lightly against her.

  Cassie’s moan filled his ears, and he knew that her nightmare was gone.

  That wasn’t good enough. He wanted her thinking only about him and the pleasure that he could give to her.

  Because she was all that he could think about.

  His fingers grabbed the edge of her panties and yanked them down. The underwear was shredded before he tossed the garment away. He put his mouth directly on that sweet flesh.

  She tasted so damn good. He licked her. Kissed. Slid his fingers into her tight, hot core.

  Cassie’s breaths came faster, harder. Her nails sank into his shoulders.

  It still wasn’t good enough.

  He licked her hard. Sucked the center of her need. Thrust two fingers into her. Kept up the friction, enjoying every single taste of her—and becoming desperate for more. Always, more.

  She stiffened beneath him, her whole body tensing, and he knew that her climax was close.

  He wanted that first climax to be when he was in her. As deep as he could go. He lifted up and positioned his heavy cock at the entrance to her body.

  Cassie’s gaze found his and her breath caught. “Your eyes . . .”

  He wondered what she saw in his gaze, but whatever it was, it didn’t seem to be scaring her. She reached for him. Her arms curled around his shoulders.

  He stroked her once more, then drove deep into her. His thrust sent the headboard thudding against the wall. “Cassie?”

  She’d tensed beneath him once more, but the tension was different, and . . . she was so tight.

  So amazingly tight.

  He had to pull back, had to thrust deeper. Again and again.

  Her lashes had lowered, and he couldn’t see her gaze. That wasn’t the way he wanted it. He needed to see her. All of her.

  “Look at me.”

  Her lashes flew up.

  Was that pain in her eyes? Cassie couldn’t know pain. Only pleasure.

  His hand eased between their bodies, found her clit, and stroked her. He choked back his own need as he brought her to a feverish pitch once more. He’d take no pleasure until she found her release.

  Her hips started to arch against him, and her nails dug into his back.

  Yes, yes, this was what he wanted. What he needed.

  Cassie climaxed beneath him, and he felt the strong contractions of her inner muscles along the length of his cock. Her gasp filled his ears—the sexiest thing he’d ever heard, sighing with pleasure—and he thrust harder, faster into her.

  The headboard kept thudding against the wall.

  The pleasure hit him, crashing over him, into him, and her name roared from his lips as the climax seemed to rip him apart.

  His hands fisted on the covers. His hips pistoned against her, and the pleasure consumed him.

  His breath heaved from his lungs and his mouth took hers. He kissed her, tasting the pleasure on her lips, and Dante knew that nothing had ever been this good.

  No other lovers. Only her.

  The woman had just ruined him for anyone else. But he’d known that truth about her for a very long time.

  Right from the moment he’d realized she had the potential to be a phoenix’s mate. One of the few who could handle the fire and fury that was within him.

  His lips gentled on hers even as he still thrust lightly into her. He didn’t want to leave her body. After so many years of wanting, he was finally where he needed to be.

  He licked her lower lip, then slowly raised his head. Her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes sparkling. And she smiled at him.

  Lethal.

  His breath stilled in his chest.

  “That was”—her smile widened—“worth waiting for.”

  He shook his head.

  Her smile instantly dimmed.

  “No,” he told her, his voice a growl because that was all he could manage, “that was just the beginning.”

  His thrusts became stronger. Harder.

  Her eyes widened.

  Her smile returned.

  So did the pleasure. So much pleasure. Enough to make a man lose his mind.

  His fingers twined with hers. Her legs lifted and curled around his hips. When he thrust, she arched into him. Her sex was slick and—judging by those sweet moans—sensitive from her release.

  It didn’t take long until she was coming for him again. Her sex contracted, squeezing him. Slick and eager. He pumped into her, driving as deep as he could possibly go.

  The second orgasm left him feeling hollowed out, sated, and more at peace than he’d ever felt.

  He knew it wasn’t the orgasm that had truly done that for him. It was her.

  In the aftermath, he pulled her closer against him. Pressed a kiss to her cheek.

  And slept for the first time in centuries with a woman in his arms. He’d never been able to hold another while he slept. He’d feared that his nightmares would bring fire—and that he’d wake to see death and hell.

  But the fire wouldn’t come with Cassie. It couldn’t.

  She brought peace.

  The faint light of dawn pressed onto Cassie, and she blinked, slowly opening her eyes. Something was on top of her—something warm and strong and heavy.

  Dante.

  He was sprawled half on top of her, with his arm wrapped around her stomach. His eyes were closed. His face relaxed.

  He’d always looked so fierce. So dangerous. Now, he just looked . . . handsome.

  Her hand lifted. Her fingers were trembling. After last night, how could s
he still feel nervous around him? But her fingers shook as she brushed back a lock of hair that had fallen over his forehead.

  At her touch, his eyes immediately opened. There was no grogginess in his gaze. Too alert, far too aware, that gaze locked on her.

  Since it was her first official morning after, Cassie wasn’t 100 percent sure what she was supposed to say. Actually, she wasn’t even 10 percent sure, so she offered him a smile.

  Dante didn’t smile. But then, he never did.

  One day, he will.

  “There’s no going back,” he said.

  No, they’d crossed a line last night.

  “We’ll leave this town,” he continued and his fingers stroked over her shoulder. “Head north. I had a place in Canada once that I think—”

  Wait. She stiffened beneath him. “I still have to get to Mississippi. I have people there who are counting on me.” He knew that.

  A furrow appeared between his brows. He sat up, pulling the covers with him.

  She was naked. That fact hadn’t embarrassed her at all last night. But it wasn’t last night, and right then, her face flamed as she yanked the sheets away from him.

  Dante frowned at her. “Those people . . . want to use you. If you go back, Genesis—what’s left of it—will keep hunting you.”

  Yes, he was right. They would.

  “I can’t leave the people in Belle. They need me.” She was the only one who could help them. “The other phoenixes are going to meet me there and—”

  Dante’s hands locked around her wrists. “Other phoenixes?”

  “I-I thought that your memory was back.” Surely he remembered the female phoenix in New Orleans. He’d gone to New Orleans to find that woman because—Oh, crap. Because phoenixes have a history of killing each other.

  Since phoenixes could come back from nearly any death, they didn’t have many natural enemies.

  Just their own kind.

  In order for a phoenix to truly die, he had to be killed during the moment of his regeneration, the moment when the flames burned at their brightest—a moment when only another phoenix could get through the fire. Those fireproof suits that Jon’s men had worn certainly hadn’t been strong enough to get the job done.

  “Sabine doesn’t want to hurt you,” Cassie said, referring to the only female phoenix she’d ever met. Cassie clutched the sheet closer to her body. “Don’t you remember? She just wanted—”