by Cynthia Eden
His hands rose and locked around her shoulders. A shudder rippled over his body.
That was a good sign, right?
She tasted more of him. Her hand curved around his shaft, and she began to pump him even as her mouth slid over his cock. She could taste more of him, slightly salty, and she liked that. She liked him. Liked the way his fingers were curling ever tighter around her, and she liked the way—
“Cassie!” He roared her name.
Then he was lifting her up, swinging her high into his arms. His mouth crashed on hers. She sank her hands into his hair. She was wet and aching and wanted him in her.
He pulled his mouth from hers and began to kiss her neck.
Oh, yes, that was good.
“The bed,” she managed. “Get us to the—”
He pushed her against the tiled wall. And drove into her.
Not making it to the bed. That was fine.
Her nails raked over him as she let her own control rip away.
His hands slammed down behind her, and she heard glass shatter. Was that the mirror? Tiles?
Screw it.
She arched toward him.
The heat thickened in the bathroom. So did he. His cock swelled inside her, and she pushed down eagerly, trying to take more of him.
Then he withdrew and slammed deep again.
“Dante!”
Her release was close, she could feel it bearing down on her. He lifted her higher, positioning her to take and take, and every thrust sent him pushing right over her clit.
She came, gasping for breath. Holding tight to him. But . . .
Dante wasn’t done.
“Not . . . enough . . .” His words were growled.
She couldn’t get a deep breath. She could only gasp and feel the pulses of her release coursing through her.
He was still in her. So deep and full. And he was carrying her out of the bathroom.
Finally, they were making it to the bed.
He lowered her onto the mattress. Caught her legs and lifted them up, opening her even more to him. “Need . . . everything . . .”
Her gaze was caught by the fire in his eyes. She’d wanted his control to shatter. It had. The beast was there, in his gaze, as desperate for release as the man.
He thrust into her.
The need built once more within Cassie. She was too sensitive and every stroke—
“Dante!” Her nails dug into him.
He growled. “Yes . . . yes . . .”
She came again.
And he exploded within her. His hands held her so tightly, the heat in the room built, and she almost expected to see flames shooting along the old bedspread.
Instead of fire, she saw him. Dante kissed her. She tasted his need and his lust and his pleasure.
So much pleasure.
It was sweeping over her and she could only shudder at the release that wouldn’t end.
She never wanted it to end.
Slowly, so slowly, he lowered her legs. Slid out of her.
Dammit. She hadn’t been ready for him to go.
He pulled up the covers, wrapping her carefully, and tucking her gently to his side.
“I like my new memories,” he said, voice deep.
That was the last thing she’d expected him to say. A laugh slipped from her, one that was real and happy. In that moment, she was happy.
She was with Dante. Her whole body was blissed out.
And her phoenix liked his memories. He laughed then, too. It was deep and rumbly and wonderful.
Her own laughter stilled.
He laughed.
Her lips began to tremble.
Dante’s laughter stopped. Worry chased across his face. “Cassie, what is it?”
I love you. I’ve loved you since I was eight years old. In all of those years, this is the first time you ever laughed—real laughter. Not the bitter sound of mockery that she’d heard in Genesis.
“I just got my wish,” she told him softly.
He frowned at her.
No, her words would make no sense to him. She didn’t care.
Cassie bent and kissed him and hoped that he hadn’t noticed the tears in her eyes.
Dante was happy, and so was she.
He hurt.
Vaughn Adams cracked open his eyes and glanced around. He had no damn idea where he was, but he felt pretty sure that he was about to vomit.
“You’re awake.” A woman’s voice. A voice he didn’t know.
He turned his head to the right and saw her. A woman with blond hair, wearing a white lab coat.
Not the same woman. It wasn’t the woman who’d come to him again and again, with the voice that soothed and made the bloodlust still within him, even as the scent of her blood had tempted him.
“Jon didn’t intend to kill you. If he had, he would have made sure not to miss your heart.” Her voice was very matter-of-fact. “Or he would have burned you.”
“You . . .” Vaughn’s voice was raspy, too rough. “You . . . talkin’ about that bastard who . . . staked me?”
“Lieutenant Colonel Jon Abrams.” She gave a quick nod and glanced back over her shoulder. Like she was nervous.
Or scared.
“He didn’t want you dead,” she told him quickly. “We can’t . . . learn as much from the dead.”
Vaughn tried to move and realized that he was strapped down on a table.
Not good.
“Let me up,” he said, his voice gaining strength with his rising fury. “Your boss is crazy! He tried to kill me.” And when I find him, I’ll offer some serious payback. “But you haven’t hurt me, so lady, I don’t have any grudge against you.”
She wasn’t moving to let him up.
He strained against the metal straps.
“Those straps keep werewolves contained without any problem.” Still that matter-of-fact voice that he didn’t like. “So I think they’ll manage to hold you just fine.” She crept closer and studied him with a detached, clinical gaze. “Though I’ll confess, I’m not exactly sure what you are.”
“I’m a detective with the New Orleans Police Department, and trust me on this, you do not want to screw with the NOPD!”
“Until a few hours ago, I believe you were a primal vampire. I doubt that you’ve even spoken in full sentences like this since your . . . infection.” Her gaze swept over him. “But now your claws are gone and you only have fangs on your canine teeth.”
She acted like she’d missed the whole NOPD part.
But . . . her words were giving him pause. Claws are gone.
His heart started to race faster in his chest. Cassie. Her name slipped through his mind. The woman with the soothing voice, and the blood that had begged for him to drink it. She had cured him. She’d said she would.
She’d done it.
“I need to understand what she did to you.”
Wow. Hold up. His gaze dropped to her right hand. That woman needed to put down the scalpel and step back from him.
“I have to replicate it. I have to see . . . Are you human again?” She shook her head. “I don’t think you completely are, not with those fangs.”
His tongue ran over said fangs. The two sharp canines were much better than the mouthful he’d had before.
“Do you want blood?”
She came closer with that scalpel.
“Keep it away from me!” He wasn’t in the mood to get sliced.
The blonde blinked. “I’m not going to hurt you.” She took the scalpel and sliced it over her skin.
Her blood trickled over her arm.
“I’m just going to see if you’re hungry.”
The blood glistened, dark red. And Vaughn realized that he was . . . He was hungry.
She held her arm over his face, and he opened his mouth, suddenly desperate for that blood.
“Vampires usually need a lot of blood after an injury. You still haven’t healed fully yet.”
He hadn’t even felt an injury.
&
nbsp; “But maybe that will change with a little blood.” Drops of her blood fell into his mouth.
So damn good.
“Interesting.”
After those few precious drops, she stepped back and began wrapping her injured arm in long, white strips of cloth. “You sure act like a vampire, but you don’t look primal.”
“I’m not,” he gritted out. When he’d been in that primal haze of bloodlust and endless hunger, speech had been all but impossible. The longer he’d been primal, the harder it had been to pull up speech. As if ... as if with each passing day, he’d become more of an animal.
And, sure, that woman’s blood was like honey on his tongue, but he wasn’t foaming at the mouth to have more.
I have control.
He wasn’t planning on losing it anytime soon.
“Since I’m not primal, I’m not a threat.” Vaughn tried to keep his voice calm and reasonable. Reason might work with this lady. “You can let me go.”
She shook her head.
He heard the squeak of a door opening behind her. Footsteps came toward him, and he smelled smoke.
Vaughn glanced to the left and saw the same SOB who’d shoved a stake into him. He hadn’t seen the man’s face until he fell into the dirt—and nearly died.
“Cassie cured you,” the man said.
What is his name? Jon—and he is a lieutenant colonel.
“He’s still a vampire,” the blonde said quickly. Her wound was completely wrapped now. “Just not primal.”
The SOB came closer. “How’d she do it?” he demanded of Vaughn.
“Hell if I know.” That was true. All he remembered was the hunger and . . .
Fuck, did I bite a kid?
He thought that he might have, and shame burned through him. Vaughn never wanted to be like that again.
Death would be better than being primal.
Jon’s blue eyes locked on his. “We’re going to cut you up and find out. I’ll let Shaw slice you open, and then she can piece you back together.”
Isn’t he a cold-blooded prick?
Vaughn glared at him.
“Or maybe I’ll let her take an . . . easier approach,” Jon said with a chilling smile. “You help me, and I don’t torture you as much.”
Was Vaughn supposed to believe anything the guy who’d staked him said?
Jon stepped ever closer. His face had been burned so badly. But he acted like he didn’t feel the pain as he demanded, “Where would Cassie go? She ran from her lab. Where did she run to?”
“No clue,” Vaughn muttered. He wasn’t telling this guy anything.
Jon shook his head and sighed. “That’s the wrong answer.” He glanced at the woman. “Shaw, cut open his chest.”
Shaw didn’t move.
Neither did Vaughn.
“Shaw!” Jon snapped.
“He’s a cured primal,” she whispered with a nervous glance at Vaughn. “Don’t you see what Cassie has done? We need him alive. We have to replicate—”
“Do I look like I give a shit about curing the primals?” Jon snarled. “I can kill them all with a thought.”
Vaughn’s gaze swept over the man’s face. “Those look like some pretty bad burns.” On his face and his arms.
Jon stiffened.
Vaughn smiled. “Someone pissed off a phoenix, huh?” He knew about the phoenixes. Down in New Orleans, his best friend had a phoenix for a sister.
Sabine. He hadn’t seen her in so long, not since she’d come to town with her vampire lover and—
“Ahh!” Vaughn cried out.
Jon had just shoved his burning hand onto Vaughn’s chest.
“I’m the phoenix,” Jon shouted at him, spittle flying from his mouth. “And if you say one more thing to piss me off, you’ll just be the latest vampire that I burned to ash.”
Vaughn’s flesh began to melt away. He clenched his teeth and refused to cry out again.
“Please!” Shaw said, voice breaking. “He’s the cure.”
Jon let his hand linger. Let the fire burn deeper, scorching muscles.
“Let him go,” Shaw cried.
With a grim smile, Jon lifted his hand. “He doesn’t have to stay alive. Cassie’s the cure. Cassie can replicate it. Cassie and that fucking fantastic mind of hers. I just need Cassie.” There was something in his voice—a desperation that pushed the edge of sanity.
Right, like that dude was sane. The pyro looked like he’d lost touch with sanity long ago.
Just like I had.
“Where did she go?” Jon demanded.
“I know where you can go,” Vaughn yelled right back.
Jon’s jaw clenched. “Let’s see just how much pain he can handle.”
Shaw was so pale. Pale and shaking, but she lifted her scalpel and came toward Vaughn.
“Lady, don’t! That’s the last damn thing you want to be doin’,” he bit out, trying to reach her.
But she raised the scalpel.
Jon’s hand flew out and wrapped around her wrist. She gasped, and Vaughn knew she’d just gotten burned.
“Did I just hear . . .” Jon asked, smiling, “the South in your voice?” That smile stretched as his gaze settled on Vaughn’s face. “If I’m not wrong, that’s . . . New Orleans.”
Fuck.
“I’ve always been good with voices, and that was just a little bit of Creole there.” He dropped the woman’s hand. “I know who you are, vampire.”
Good for you.
“Vaughn Adams. Your father Keith contacted me a while back about a female phoenix he wanted to cure.” Jon shook his head. “Everyone is always so stuck on cures.”
Sabine. Vaughn tried to keep his expression blank but his whole body went on high alert.
“You father knew the little phoenix well, just like you did.”
Vaughn didn’t like the way the guy’s eyes had lit up.
“I need her,” Jon gritted.
“And I need the hell off this table!” Vaughn cried.
“Cassie went to her, didn’t she? New Orleans is close. She has friends there, probably a safe house. She ran there.”
Vaughn hoped that she hadn’t. But he suspected—yes.
Jon’s gaze bored into his. “You are going to help me draw her out.”
“No, no, I’m—”
“Or I’ll kill your father. I’ll kill your mother. Your aunts, uncles. Every one.”
Shaw dropped the scalpel and scurried back.
“But . . .” Jon lifted a brow. “You help me find Cassie and that female phoenix, and I’ll let you go.”
Did Vaughn look like a dumbass? The guy was not going to let him get away.
“Your choice,” Jon said. “You help me, or you burn.”
It was going to hurt, so Vaughn braced himself. “Bring on the fire, bastard.”
And he did.
Cassie paced the length of the den, her hands nervously fisted at her sides. They still had an hour until midnight. Would the others be at the rendezvous point?
If they weren’t, she had no idea how to find them.
“Are you sure that you can trust Keith Adams?” Dante asked her.
She jumped at the rumble of his voice. She’d thought that he was still in the kitchen. Cassie turned and saw that he was leaning up against the mantel, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes on her.
“I think so, yes.” She gave a nod, just to try and emphasize that point. She sure hoped she could trust the man. At this stage, it wasn’t like she had a whole lot of choice in the matter. She’d told Dante a bit about Vaughn earlier and thought to tell him more. “Once he found out what Genesis was really doing, Keith wanted to help the paranormals. He . . .”
Okay, she should probably be careful with this reveal.
“He’s the one who sent Sabine to us.” She paused and searched Dante’s gaze. “Do you remember her?”
“I remember everything.”
Her breath rushed out. “That’s a relief. It seems like your memories are
coming back faster. Maybe you’re getting even—”
He shook his head. “My memories are back because of you.”
She wasn’t sure how to respond.
“You used the power of the siren and you ordered me to remember.” A little shrug. “So I did.”
“I thought we’d agreed I couldn’t use that power.” Her voice had dropped. A big knot had also formed in her stomach.
“No, we said when you were stressed or scared, that power comes out.”
Yes, he was definitely remembering a whole lot.
“I’m guessing you were feeling pretty stressed”—his gaze drifted from hers and slid to the staircase—“when we were up there.”
When she’d confessed that she loved him. Cassie knew her cheeks had to be flaming.
She’d confessed, he’d gotten his memory back, and, no, there had been no claims of undying love from him.
Obviously, they were back to business as usual.
She spun on her heel so he wouldn’t see her face. “S-Sabine is the only female phoenix I’ve ever encountered. While at Genesis, she fell in love with a vampire—”
“Ryder.”
Right. Cassie tried not to shiver at his name. He was very, very powerful, and he scared the hell out of her.
“I’ve dealt with Ryder before.” No fear in Dante’s words.
Figures.
She could fear enough for both of them. She ran a hand through her hair. “Keith has a place in the Quarter. If Charles and Jamie made it to the city, they’ll be there tonight. Charles . . . and I have been communicating privately with Keith while we worked on a cure for Vaughn.”
How was she supposed to tell Keith that his only son was dead?
“What about Cain?”
“He should be in New Orleans, too. He’ll be with Eve and . . .” What had happened to Trace? “I hope Trace hasn’t killed anyone,” Cassie whispered. “Maybe Eve was able to keep Trace in check.”
“I’m sure Cain has him under control.” Dante didn’t sound the least bit worried. “If not, then he probably killed the werewolf.”
Cassie’s control snapped and she spun toward him. “Why is death so easy for you?”
A shrug. “Because I’ve died hundreds of times.”
She flinched. “Most of us don’t get the luxury of coming back. Death is permanent for us. We live, we love, and many of us don’t want to die. Death rips us away too soon from the people that we love!”