Her.
She had her hand on the glass. He put his above it. Could have sworn that he felt the silk of her touch.
He knew why he’d come back. Because he hadn’t been able to leave her. He’d tried to stay away, but he’d needed her too much.
He’d had to get back to her.
Every step away from her had seemed to rip a hole into his chest.
Now he would have her.
Even if he had to burn that whole building down to claim her.
Dante stared out in the night. The cabin was quiet behind him, still. His dreams had tormented him for hours. No, not dreams. Memories, streaming through his mind.
Different times. Different places.
The thing that had always been the same? The fire.
Consuming.
Destroying.
Cassie was in the bedroom at the top of the stairs. Did she dream of him?
Something had been done to them, he knew that now. The attraction that he felt for her was unnatural. The ache to be close to her . . . the pain of being apart . . .
Another f**king experiment?
When he’d been in Chicago, he’d felt like part of him had been missing. At first, he’d thought that hole came from not having all his memories. That it was just the result of all the dark spots in his mind.
Then he’d looked up in Taboo and seen her and thought—
There you are.
Did she feel the same intense need that he did? Probably not. In his dreams . . . f**king memories . . . she’d been one of the people wearing the white lab coats. She’d been there to experiment on him.
She hadn’t been part of the testing. Whatever had been done to make him need her so much, hell, maybe she’d even been a part of that manipulation.
He turned away from the window and its view of the darkness. His gaze centered on the stairs. Had she known? Had she deliberately manipulated him so that he’d need her?
That way, I’d never truly be free. Because the lust for her compelled him to seek her out.
It was what he was doing even as he stalked up the stairs. They creaked beneath his feet, the only sound to penetrate the stillness of the cabin. He climbed slowly, heading for her, the need to see her driving him.
In front of her closed door, his fingers curled around the doorknob. He twisted.
And found the damn thing locked.
What the hell?
“Did you really think I’d just leave my door unlocked for you?” her voice called out.
Not asleep. For a second time, she’d fooled him with that sleeping trick. So he just shoved open the door, splintering the lock.
She jerked up in bed, gasping.
“No, what I thought”—he headed for the bed, for her—“was that if I f**ked you, this constant need I have for you would go away.” He tossed her own earlier words right back at her, but they were the truth. Maybe that was what he needed. Just one time with her. One long, hot time.
Cassie had a death grip on the covers as she clutched them to her chest. “You—you have a constant need for me?” She blinked. “Wait! That’s what I told you.” Her head shook, whipping her hair around her shoulders. “You’re making fun of me now? Asshole! Get out of here! Just get—”
He was on the bed. On her. Crushing her down onto the mattress. His body caged hers. Held hers. His fingers twined with hers as he pushed them back against the pillow near her head. “I’m not making fun of you.” Unbidden, the thought came . . . I’ll kick the ass of anyone who dared.
“You don’t even remember me,” she whispered the words to him. “So don’t act like—”
“I remember . . . flashes of you.”
Her body tensed beneath him.
“In my first dream, you drove a knife into my chest.”
Her lips trembled.
He bent his head and brushed his lips over hers. “But I realized soon enough that it wasn’t really a dream, was it? That was a memory.”
He knew she’d killed him, so why was he there, holding her so tightly?
Her scent surrounded him and made him nearly feel drunk.
“I had to do it,” she told him, her voice a husky tremble that seemed to stroke right along his skin. “It was the way you escaped. Th—the other doctors thought we were just running new blood work on you. They hadn’t planned for a containment with your fire. When I stabbed you and your fire broke free, you were able to get away.”
“I got away, but lost my memories.” His legs were on either side of hers, but he couldn’t feel the smooth silk of her thighs. The sheet was between them.
He wanted nothing between them.
“For a time, you did forget. But then we met up again in New Orleans, and your memories seemed to be coming back.”
He wished he had all of his memories.
“You wanted to forget.” Sadness darkened her words. “You told me that you never wanted to remember Genesis.”
Or me.
She didn’t say those words, but they seemed to hang between them.
“There are some things you can’t forget.” He brought his lips to hers once more. He didn’t trust her. The story about helping him escape could be pure bull, but the need for her overwhelmed everything else in that instant.
So why not take her?
They were alone. She was beneath him. His body was so hard for her that he ached.
Why not take her?
When he kissed her again, the kiss was harder. Deeper. His tongue swept inside, taking every bit of sweetness that he could. And she was sweet. Her taste made him heady, eager for more.
Her fingers curled around his, and she was shifting beneath the covers. Arching her h*ps against his.
He wanted those covers gone.
His mouth went to her neck. Her scent was stronger there, and he loved that light, sexy smell. He licked her skin, sucked the tender curve of her throat, then scored her with his teeth.
“Dante!”
The covers had to go.
He freed her hands. Yanked at the covers. When they got tangled up, he just ripped them away.
She was naked.
For some reason, he hadn’t expected that.
“I-I . . . only had the one pair of clothes and when I got into bed . . .”
His fingers caressed the tip of her breast. Her nipple was tight and tempting.
“I didn’t want to—” Cassie’s words choked off in a moan.
And when he bent his head and took that nipple in his mouth, her whole body trembled.
Yes. This was what he’d wanted. Her. All of her. Spread before him. Her body was perfect to him. Smooth and sexy, making his c**k grow heavier and harder.
He wanted to drive into her as deeply as he could go. But he held himself back. His savage instincts screamed for him to—