Phoenix Fury Box set

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

She was…not beautiful.

Dante told himself that even as he leaned toward her and let his fingers trail over the curve of her nose. A few freckles rested on the bridge of that nose. His finger slid to the side and traced the edge of her cheekbone. Her face was oval, pale, and he didn’t like the dark shadows under her eyes.

She wasn’t beautiful.

He told himself that again, and realized he was such a liar. This woman—the woman who’d killed him in his dreams—had him staring at her like a lovesick fool.

He pulled away from her and clenched his hands into fists so that he wouldn’t touch her again. They were in some two-bit, pay-by-the-hour motel room. She was spread on the bed, and he was beside her.

She was still out cold, and he was far too distracted by her body.

Far too—

Her eyelids began to flicker. His stupid heart beat faster.

Who is she to me?

There was something between them. Death, yes . Hate? Betrayal? Maybe .

Something.

She moaned softly, and he didn’t like the sound of pain on her lips. He found himself leaning forward and tucking the pillow beneath her head.

When he bent forward, she screamed. The sound was high and desperate and absolutely terrified. She tried to bolt from the bed.

He couldn’t have that, so he caught her arms and—as gently as he could—pushed her back against the mattress. “Easy.”

At his voice, her scream died away. Her eyes widened as she stared up at him. Her gaze wasn’t clear as it had been before. Instead, her green gaze was hazy. A little lost.

“Dante?” Cassie smiled. “I missed you.”

That smile of hers…yes, she was fucking beautiful, all right. And dangerous.

She was also trying to lean up and kiss him.

What had been in that drug?

“You left me,” she told him, voice husky, “and I thought you were supposed to—” Cassie broke off, blinking. Then she groaned and shook her head. “Where the hell am I?” Her voice wasn’t quite as husky, but he still found that he liked the sound.

“Not hell,” he told her as he eased back a bit. “Just a cheap motel.”

When he moved back, Cassie sat up, then winced. “My shoulder…” Her right hand lifted and touched the wound. “They shot me.”

Yes, they had. And they’d almost died for that crime. He didn’t know why the fury had blasted through him so hard, but it had.

“They shot me,” she said again, then she shoved against his chest. “Get away from me !”

He rose slowly. “You’re welcome. Maybe next time, I’ll just leave you on the floor.” The words were deliberately cold and brutal, but she didn’t even seem to have heard him.

She was climbing from the bed and nearly falling on her face in the process. He locked his body and refused to go to her. If she was so desperate to get away from him—

Wait. Why would she want to leave? She’d been the one to seek him out. He frowned.

“They’re coming…”

He heard her mutter as she ran into the bathroom. Then there was the sound of drawers being opened. Slammed shut.

He glanced toward the motel room door. She’d told him to get away from her. There was no need for him to stay with her any longer.

Yes, there is. She knows about my past.

“I want answers,” he said, raising his voice so that she’d have to hear him over her mutters—

And the sound of breaking glass.

What was happening in the bathroom? He hurried to it and saw that, no, it hadn’t been glass shattering. It had been the mirror behind the sink. Cassie had driven her small fist into it. Blood dripped from the knuckles of her right hand.

“What are you doing?”

She didn’t answer. Just picked up a big, triangular shaped chunk of the mirror—and shoved the sharp edge into her injured shoulder.

“Cassie!” He grabbed her hand and yanked the chunk back out.

She whimpered at the pain and tried to fight him.

He just held her tighter. “Is it the drug they gave you? Is it making you do this?” The scent of her blood was driving him crazy. Pissing him off. “Dammit, stop. ”

Her breath heaved out. “They’re coming.”

Yes, he’d heard her say that before.

“There’s a tracking device in me. When they shot me…” She sucked in a deep, pain-filled breath. “It implanted. I have to get it out, or they’ll get me.”

“So you decided to do emergency surgery on yourself with a chunk of glass?”

“I don’t have a lot of options.” Her lips trembled and twisted into a faint smile. “Don’t worry, I am a doctor.”

That smile shouldn’t have made his heartbeat kick up. It did.

Dante could only shake his head. “You’re an insane woman who is bleeding all over the place.” Grabbing a washcloth, he shoved it against her shoulder. “You’re probably going to get an infection and—” He broke off. How did he know about infections? He knew how to drive a car, how to speak French, how to beat the hell out of anyone who tried to give him a rough time.

But he had no actual memories of his life. Well, except for those dreams of her… killing me.

“Don’t worry. I never get infections. I can’t.”

Such a lie. Humans could catch anything. They’re weak. The knowledge was there, inside him, coming from the man he’d been before that dirty alley.

She wasn’t fighting him anymore. “Please.” Her low plea. “I don’t have much time. I need to get this thing out of me.”

He understood now. “That’s why you wanted me to leave you. Because you think they’ll track you here.”

A broken laugh came from her. “You’re pretty big game to them. If they think you’re with me, then, yes, they’ll be coming for you, too. And I promised you that I’d never let them lock you up again.”

I don’t remember that promise.

“Too bad you don’t remember that,” she said, seeming to echo his thoughts. “Or me.”

His hands fell away from her. The bloody cloth slid to the floor.

Cassie squared her shoulders and reached for the chunk of mirror once more. “You don’t have to watch.”

But he was watching. Leaving her didn’t seem like an option.

She stared at her reflection in what was left of the mirror and slowly made a deeper cut on her shoulder. Blood slid down her skin and soaked the shirt. Her quick breaths seemed loud in that small space, and he hated the pain that flashed across her delicate features.

But she didn’t cry out.

Her finger slid into the wound.

His back teeth locked.

A tear leaked down her cheek. But still she didn’t cry out.

“Got it…” Her bloody fingers slid from her wound and she dropped something small and dark into the sink. It hit with a clatter. Then her hands curled around the edge of the sink, and she seemed to steady herself. “A tear or two would make this so much easier,” she mumbled.

He frowned at her bent head. She was crying. The woman realized that, didn’t she?

She glanced over at him. “But I’m guessing you don’t remember that part, either, do you?”

He just stared at her.

“Right.” She took in another deep breath then ripped away the bottom of her T-shirt. He saw the smooth skin of her stomach as she twisted and tied the fabric around her shoulder.

His hands lifted. Dante took over the task as he realized she was trying to bind the wound.

“Thank you.”

A woman in a torn, blood-soaked top wouldn’t exactly go unnoticed in the city. But at least she wasn’t dripping blood everywhere anymore.

“I have to get back to my safe house,” she said with a nod. “I’ve got supplies there. I can stitch the wound. Change. Regroup.” Her gaze held his. “You haven’t left me yet.”

She was stating the obvious.

“You haven’t killed me, either.”

Again, she seemed to enjoy the obvious.

“Why?”

He glanced down. Saw that her blood was on his hands. The sight seemed familiar.

Don’t die, Cassandra. Don’t leave me.

The words pushed through his mind. His words. Another time. Another place. An image came to him. Her body had been broken and bloody, and her eyes had gone glassy as she—

Died?

“Dante?”

He hunched his shoulders and jerked on the faucet, sending water surging into the sink. The blood on his hands washed away even as the hazy image faded from his mind. Surely he’d never held Cassie and begged her to live.

He stared down at the red water and the bits of broken mirror in the sink. “You said you were my key.”

“I—”

He turned off the water and glanced at her. “You don’t escape me until I get all of those secrets that I was promised.”

She nodded.

He hated the smell of her blood.

“We should hurry,” she told him as her gaze darted away from his. “They’re fast trackers.”

“Who are they ?” That was the first secret he wanted. But before Cassie could answer he heard…

The squeal of tires. Engines growling.

Cassie began, “They’re—”

“Here.” In the last week, he’d discovered that no one had senses quite like his, and he’d heard the approach long before she had. “They’re here.”

Her eyes widened.

Fine. If they wanted a battle, then he’d give them a war that would rip their lives apart.

“No.” Her hand grabbed his. Her knuckles were still bleeding. “There are too many humans around here. Your fire—you can’t always control it. We need to get the hell out of this place.” She brushed by him and eyed the small window on the side of the bathroom. “Think you can fit?”

No. But he stepped forward and drove his fists into it. The whole window frame flew backward and slammed into the ground.

“Right. Super strength,” she noted. “Handy.” Then she was jumping from that opening, even though they were on the second floor. He tried to grab her, but it was too late. Her body curled in, and she hit the ground with a thud.

Teeth locking, he jumped after her. His knees didn’t even buckle when he landed on the ground.

The thunder of footsteps told him that their pursuers were rushing toward the front of the motel. And he and Cassie were running toward the back parking lot. She hopped in the driver’s seat of an old, beat-up Jeep and slid under the dash even as he climbed into the passenger side. In the next second, the engine kicked to life, and Cassie shoved her foot down on the gas.

The Jeep rocketed out of that lot and headed into the waiting darkness.

Dante glanced back, but saw no sign of the men who’d been after them. The jerks were probably going into the motel room. It would take them precious moments to realize that he and Cassie had vanished.

“They can’t follow me without the chip,” she said, raising her voice to be heard over the engine and the whip of the wind as it beat against the open Jeep. “We’ll be safe.” She paused. “For a while.”

Maybe she hadn’t meant for him to hear that last part.

If she knew him as well as she claimed, Cassie would understand that he could hear even the faintest whisper from fifty yards away.

He’d clearly heard her words and the fear that trembled in her voice.

***

“Did he attack her?” Kevin asked as his gaze swept over the blood-stained bathroom. “I thought you said he wasn’t a threat to the woman.”

Jon shouldered his way into that closet of a bathroom. His gaze swept over the blood, and the two bloody handprints on the sink. “Get a team in to analyze the blood.” But he already suspected he was staring at Cassie’s blood, not Dante’s.

Cassie wouldn’t risk hurting Dante. She needed him too much.

“What did he do to her?” Kevin whispered.

Ah, Kevin was making a mistake. Most people did when they looked at Cassandra Armstrong. Small, delicate, human— they automatically thought that she was weak.

Jon knew she wasn’t. Cassandra Armstrong was the most dangerous adversary that he’d ever faced. She was also the woman he’d once wanted to marry.

But Cassie had wanted someone else.

His fingers skimmed over the edge of the sink. He touched the miniature tracking device. She would have known to look for it, and she wouldn’t have minded a bit of pain if it meant she kept her freedom. Clever Cassie. Always so clever.

“She did it to herself.” He inhaled. Cassie’s blood smelled different from most humans. It was a scent that he easily recognized. “We don’t need the tracker to find her.” Not while she was bleeding.

The blood would create a distinct trail of its own.

Either his team members would find her or someone else—something else—would find her. Cassie’s blood was too sweet, a lure designed by science. She should have known better than to run away with an open wound.

She was going to attract all manner of beasts.

Beasts who wanted only one thing—to drink her blood and drain her dry.

***

“This is your safe place?” Dante’s voice was heavy with doubt.

Cassie glanced over at him with a frown. “Look, I didn’t say I was hanging out at the Ritz.” The rundown warehouse on the edge of town was the perfect crash spot for her. She tucked the Jeep behind the building, making sure it was out of sight, and led Dante toward what looked like a boarded-up door. The windows also had that same, boarded-up look.

Appearances could be deceiving.

She pushed a panel, and the door slid open. Inside, the lights immediately flashed on to reveal an apartment. “Though, actually, I think this place is almost as good as the Ritz.”

She could tell by Dante’s hanging jaw that she’d caught him by surprise. Score one for her.

“I have a friend,” she said, though friend might be stretching things. Patient? Yes, that was a better description since they hadn’t exactly had lots of meaningful conversations. “The guy’s a computer genius. He’s rich as all hell, and he’s got a few of these safe spots around the country.” Since he couldn’t currently use them, they were sure coming in handy for her.

She headed toward the bathroom. “Just give me a minute, okay?” A minute to stitch up her wound and get the blood off her skin.

Cassie didn’t look back to see if Dante was waiting. If he had planned to ditch her, well, he would have left her butt back at Taboo. Since he was there, she knew he wouldn’t leave. Not until he’d gotten what he wanted.

If only what he wanted was her.

The T-shirt bandage was soaked red with her blood. Great. Gritting her teeth, she peeled the wet cloth away, prepared to see the jagged sight of—

Healed skin.

Her breath rushed out, and she angled her head down, trying to peer at what should have been a gaping wound. But she wasn’t bleeding any longer. The skin had already sealed closed.

She hurriedly slammed the bathroom door shut behind her and barely managed to stop herself from sinking to the floor in shock. Unbelievable. Her skin was healing on its own. The wound just vanishing.

Her fingers slid over the skin. It was still a little pink, but there was no blood. “Amazing.”

The door shook behind her. Dante’s hand was pounding on the wood. “Cassie?”

She stripped away the remains of the bloody shirt. Tossed it to the floor. Her bra was stained red, too. Fabulous. “Give me an, ah, minute.”

Silence, then almost grudging, “Do you need help?”

You’ve already helped me. He was the reason why her wound had closed. Why her whole life had changed. A human didn’t just magically heal herself.

He’d altered her down in New Orleans. Everything had changed for her in a blood-soaked instant of time.

When she’d opened her eyes, ready to thank her rescuer, Dante had been gone.

Her body wanted to shake at the memory, but Cassie stiffened her spine. She yanked on the shower’s faucet and the water rushed out. Hurrying, she finished stripping. She’d get the blood off, then she could deal with the mess that was her twisted relationship with Dante.

She’d put one foot in the shower when the door came crashing open behind her. Yelping, she tried to cover herself—one hand over her breasts and one hand over the juncture of her thighs.

His cheeks were flushed. His gaze swept over her. Heated up. Burned not with the fire of the beast that he carried, but with desire. Lust.

“I told you to give me a minute.” She backed away from him and went right into the path of the shooting shower spray.

His gaze lingered on her body.

She could feel that stare of his like a hot touch.

He was heading toward her. Stalking her. “You shouldn’t be in there. You need stitches.”

Still keeping her hands in place—so not enough coverage—Cassie twisted her body so that he could see the wound. “All gone,” she announced a bit tremulously. This scene was almost like a fantasy she’d had once. In the fantasy, Dante had come in. He’d been desperate for her. He’d picked her up and put her against the shower wall. Licked her neck and—

He grabbed her hands and shoved her back against the shower wall. The breath rushed from her lungs. In her fantasy, he hadn’t been that…rough. “Dante?”

“ What are you?”

Naked. No coverage at all. “I’m human.”

The water hit him, too, but he didn’t seem to care. His shirt brushed over her breasts and her heart slammed into her chest.

“I might not remember everything,” he said, “but even I know humans don’t heal that fast.”

Steam rose from the shower. From the hot water? Or from him? His touch was heating…

“I can explain.” Her words tumbled out.

He didn’t let her go. “You seem to say that a lot, but so far, I haven’t heard any good explanations.”

She was naked and he was—just pissed. Nope, definitely not like her fantasy anymore.

It was time for her to get pissed, too. She couldn’t break away from his hold, but she lifted her chin and snapped, “Fine. You want to know why I’m this way? Why my wound just vanished?”

“Yes!”

“Because of you, okay? You did this to me. I nearly died a few months ago in New Orleans when some psychotic bastard vampire ripped into me. I would have died, but you saved me.” And he had changed her, only she hadn’t realized the full consequences of his actions at the time.

She should have realized it, though. Now she’d have to do more studying and—

He lifted her up, putting their gazes on the same level. “How?”

“You cried for me.” Whispered, but it was the truth. “You cried, and you saved me.”

She hadn’t expected him to move so fast. One minute, he was holding her close, and in the next second, Dante was out of the shower. Actually, he was about five feet away from her.

He was laughing, but the sound was bitter and twisted. What would his real laughter sound like? She’d pretty much given up on ever hearing it.

“Bull,” he snapped at her. “You’re going to lie to me and say…”

She turned off the water and jumped out of the shower. Fumbling, Cassie grabbed a towel. Better protection, but still not perfect. Not that he’d exactly been overwhelmed by her naked charms. “I’m not lying to you, Dante. You want to know what secrets are locked up in your head? You want to know why you woke up in an alley, surrounded by ash?”

“Yes.” Nearly a roar.

Right. She swallowed. “You’re a phoenix shifter.”

“A what?”

“A phoenix. Most people just think the phoenix was a myth, but they’re wrong. You aren’t a myth. When you die, you burn, and you come back.” It probably wasn’t the moment in which she should tell him that every time he died, he came back…broken. Darker. Even more dangerous.

“Stop lying to me!” His voice was a thunder of fury.

Her voice was soft. “I’m not. Just like the mythical phoenix, your tears can heal. If you cry—just like you cried when I was dying in New Orleans—you can save a life.” She stepped toward him. Held tight to her towel. “You saved my life. Gave me some of your power. Your magic.”

He didn’t speak. Did that mean he believed her words? She hoped so. “That power must still be in me, and that’s why I healed just now. You healed me. I really am just a human, but you’re something far more.” She wanted to reach out and touch him, but wasn’t sure how he’d react. “That’s why you woke up surrounded by ash in an alley. You must have died and burned, and you came back.”

He lifted his hand. Fire was burning just above his fingertips.

“A phoenix shifter can control fire,” she said, still trying to keep her voice soft and soothing. He seemed to need soothing. But then, he’d always seemed to need that. “You’re a very, very powerful paranormal being. Extremely rare and—”

“I’m a monster.” Flat. Brittle.

She shook her head. “Paranormals are everywhere these days. You don’t have to hide. You can—”

“No one should live forever.” His head lifted, and he stared at her.

She could see the fire beginning to swirl in his gaze, lighting the darkness. It scared her. Truth be known, his fire had always scared her.

“You’re saying I do keep living, don’t I?”

She managed to nod.

“How old am I?”

“I don’t know.”

“How many times have I died?”

She had no answer.

“How many?”

“At least thirty times…that I know of.” Pain rippled beneath her words. Thirty times .

“I was in a cage.”

She swallowed. “Yes.” She’d told him that before, right? Or was he remembering?

The flames flared brighter in his eyes. “You were there.”

Oh, shit. He was remembering.

“You shoved a knife into my heart.”

Um, once. Were they back to dwelling on that?

“You killed me. You were there when they cut into me. When they tortured me.” His voice rose with every word, but he made no move to go near her. Or to touch her.

That was good because the flames burning in his eyes matched the fire swirling above his hand.

“You were in a white coat. In a lab.” His jaw locked. “You were one of them.”

“Let me explain—”

“I should have left you to die when I had the chance.” The brutal words seemed to tear into her heart.

Cassie shook her head. “You don’t remember everything yet. It’s natural after a rising.” She tried to smile. Failed. It hurt too much to smile. “When your memory comes back fully, you’ll remember it all. You’ll know that I didn’t—”

He spun away from her. Strode from the bathroom and headed for the exit.

“Dante!”

He didn’t stop.

She raced forward— don’t burn, don’t burn— and grabbed his arm. He whirled back toward her, and the flames came right at her face.

Cassie screamed.

The flames froze above her, inches from her skin.

“You want to let me go now,” he ordered. His voice had lowered to a lethal growl of sound.

She should let him go, she should. Instead, Cassie lifted her chin. “You’re going to get those flames the hell away from me right now because we both know you aren’t about to burn me.” She was impressed. Her words sounded much braver than she felt.

His brows climbed. “How do you know that?”

“Because you’ve never hurt me.” Maybe that was his weakness. Others had said it was. “I don’t know why, but you can’t hurt me.”

His flames sputtered away. “I think I can.” With that, he walked away. Out of the warehouse. Didn’t look back. Just left her.

She realized that he was right. He could hurt her. Not with flames or with fists, but by walking away. Leaving her behind.

“I need your help!” she shouted after him.

And heard, “Too fucking bad.”

It wasn’t the first time that he’d broken her heart, but dammit, it would be the last.

***

He stood outside the warehouse and sucked in deep gulps of air. The fire had been too close to her skin. Too damn close. If he’d burned her…

You’ve never hurt me. Her words rang in his ears. She’d sounded so sincere when she told him that. Staring up at him, her eyes so green and big—and reflecting the fire that he barely held in check.

Human, if he believed her story.

He did. Dammit, he did.

He had no business being around a human. Humans couldn’t survive the touch of flames. They couldn’t survive his strength. If he touched her with fire, he could kill her.

He didn’t want Cassandra Armstrong’s death on him.

Dante wasn’t sure why she’d sought him out in Chicago, but the why no longer mattered. He needed to get away from her. As far away as he could.

He took one step. Another. Didn’t look back. Wouldn’t. But he could still smell her. Still feel her silken skin beneath his hands.

He took another step.

She’d been naked in the bathroom. The water had glistened on her skin. He’d wanted to lick the droplets away. To lift her up against that shower wall and just feast on her.

Human.

He took another step.

His flames could have disfigured her. During the last week, he’d awoken from nightmares only to discover that he was burning the bed down around him. Over and over. The shrieking of smoke alarms had been what saved the people in the cheap motel rooms near him.

When he slept, he lost control.

When he was near Cassie, he wanted to lose control. And if he did, she would burn.

Not her.

He took another step. Cassie wasn’t following him. She was letting him go.

He wouldn’t turn around. He would not go back to her.

Because he wanted her to keep living.