Playing With Fire (12 page)

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 she 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—”

“I remember Sabine.” Flat. Cold. “Her vampire tried to transform her.”

Cassie nodded. Sabine's lover, a vampire, had tried to turn the phoenix, but the results hadn't been quite what Ryder had anticipated.

“Sabine never wanted to hurt you.” Cassie tried to make her voice sound soothing. “You don't have to worry about a threat from her.”

“And her vampire? You think he will want me to keep living, knowing that I can kill his woman?”

Cassie's heart was pounding too fast. Her death grip was about to rip the sheets. “Are you planning to kill her?” Before Dante could answer, she grabbed for his hand and dropped her sheet. “Sabine wants to help us! She's working with me to try and find a cure for Trace—”

Dante's eyes glinted, the fire simmering.

Uh-oh. What was that about?

But he said, “Phoenixes. Plural.” His head tilted. “You know of another phoenix? Not just Sabine?”

She swallowed. “I do. Another male, not as old as you, but he's still strong. Cain has agreed to—”

“Cain O'Connor?”

Dante's voice had gone lethal.

“Yes.”

His hand twisted, and he was holding onto her. “You are not to get near Cain O'Connor.”

“He's going to meet me in Belle, Mississippi. Sabine is going there, too.”
Once she gets back in the U.S.

Her vampire had taken her away for a while—a honeymoon time, of sorts.

Cassie straightened her shoulders and tried to pretend that she wasn't naked in front of Dante. “I
am
going. I wanted—I wanted you to come, too. That's why I came after you in Chicago. I'm so close to making a breakthrough, so close. With your help, I know I can do it.”

He stared back at her. The golden flames in his eyes seemed to be growing brighter. So not good.

Cassie pressed her lips together. Then, unable to help herself, she asked, “You're the oldest, aren't you?”

He nodded.

I knew it.
Excitement had her feeling a little giddy. “You're the key! If Trace can be cured, if the primal vampires can be reverted—”

“Primal vampires?”

Ah, yes. Another confession. “Genesis made monsters—real monsters that have no control. They exist only to feed and kill. Their virus is spreading like wildfire, and if I can't stop them . . .” She didn't even want to think about what could happen. “If I can't stop them, the primal vampires could take over the world as we know it.”

No hint of worry or fear flickered over his face.

Okay.
“This isn't about me,” Cassie said. “It's about fixing the mess that Genesis created. About saving lives. I have to go back to Belle. And the phoenixes—
you
—are the only hope that we have.”

His jaw locked. “Then you have no hope. You get the phoenixes together, and we
will
kill each other.” His gaze swept over her face. “If Cain O'Connor gets anywhere near you, I'll send him to hell myself.”

Cassie decided not to mention the fact that she'd already been around Cain a few times. He'd been the first one to seek her out because he'd wanted her to help Trace.

“Leave them all. They can sort out their own lives. Or they can die.” Dante shrugged. “You and I will go north. We will—”

“How can you not care?” She pulled away from him and jumped to her feet. “I'm talking about people—innocent people! If they can be saved, we have to try!”

He shook his head. “I don't care about them at all.” He climbed from the bed and stretched to his full length.

She backed up a step.
Damn.
Naked, the guy was intimidating.

Rippling muscles. Hot flesh.

Intimidating and sexy.

Her tongue swiped over her lower lip.
Focus.

“I saved you,” he said, the words falling heavily into the room. “You are what matters to me. The others can—”

“Die?” she finished, hating that a chill had slipped over her skin.

“If they don't stay away from me”—he gave a slow nod—“that is exactly what will happen.”

He wasn't going to help her. The realization was staggering, and it hurt. “You know what it's like to be trapped, to be an experiment, and you'd still walk away from them?”

“I
cannot
cure them, Cassie.”

“You're wrong! Your tears cured me in New Orleans!” That was the part she'd clung to for so long. Her one instant of hope. He'd saved her, so that meant he cared about her. Maybe not as much as she cared about him, but he'd cried, actually shed a tear.
He cared.
“Your tears must be the most powerful, since you are the strongest phoenix and—”

“I did not cry for you.”

She shook her head. “Of course, you did.” He'd felt some of the same emotion that she did. She was alive—her life was proof of that. “I'm alive because of you.”

Dante stared back at her, his face an implacable mask. “I'm alive because of you,” she said again, her voice rising as fear spiked in her heart. “I was dying in New Orleans! You were there. You took me out of that horrible room and you—”