“What makes you think I want to be free?” Dante asked.
Maybe because he didn’t love her? Maybe because he’d been spouting about Canada?
“While I hunted you—I mean, while I followed you . . .”
Her eyes narrowed.
“I realized that I had been too hasty. Perhaps it would be good to meet my own kind. There have been too many battles between us over the years—the centuries. It’s time to move past that. When I meet the others, I won’t be alone any longer.”
“No, you won’t.” Hope was trying to stir within her again. If she got him to Mississippi with the other phoenixes, maybe they could all convince Dante to join the research. She could find a cure and undo the nightmares her father had caused.
“So you will take me to them.” His mouth was just inches from her own. “And you won’t try to leave me again.”
Her gaze searched his. “Promise me,” Cassie demanded.
His brows rose.
“Promise me,” she said again, “that you didn’t have anything to do with that fire at the ranch. That those people—that you didn’t hurt them.”
“And you’d believe my word?”
“I don’t think you’ve ever lied to me.” Even though there were times she would have preferred his lies.
Maybe a lie of love over the years wouldn’t have made her heart feel so battered.
His head moved in a small nod. “I promise you, I didn’t kill those people. I spent my night with you.” A slight pause. His gaze warmed. “In you.”
Her sex clenched as the hot memory pierced through her. Damn him.
“And”—his mouth came closer, but instead of kissing her lips, his mouth pressed lightly to her cheek—“I’m the only one who has enjoyed that pleasure.”
Her cheeks flushed.
“Why is that?” Dante asked even as he pressed one more kiss to the curve of her jaw. “Why me?”
Because I love you.
He hadn’t lied to her, but she couldn’t give him the truth. Besides, wasn’t it a truth he should already know?
Clueless phoenix.
There hadn’t been any other lovers because she couldn’t sleep with one man while loving another. She just wasn’t made that way. Hell, at this point, she was wondering just how she was made.
“No answer?” Dante chided, his mouth over her neck. Over the pulse that raced so frantically. “That’s not like you. Usually you have an answer for everything.” He licked her skin. Nipped her.
Her panties were getting wet. She was angry, afraid, and aroused. All because of him. Always . . . him.
Her hands flattened on his chest. “We need to go.” There were a whole lot of miles to cover between there and Belle.
He didn’t stop kissing her neck.
Her legs wanted to become jelly. So she stiffened her knees. Pushed harder against him. “Dante!”
His head lifted. “I love the way you say my name.”
What?
“Husky and rough, trembling a little with that faint Georgia accent you never quite lost.” His gaze swept over her face. “When you call my name, it makes me want to f**k you.”
A car horn echoed in the distance.
He gave a little laugh. Not the bitter sound from before, but softer, rougher. Nearly a real laugh. “Don’t worry, I’m not f**king you here.”
Her spine snapped straight up. “No, I’m not f**king you here.”
“But you will be f**king me again . . . very soon.” He wished.
And, so did she. “Get me to Mississippi.” She wasn’t entering that battle with him.
He nodded. “Then I’ll have you.” Not a question.
It should have been. Wasn’t someone being overconfident?
“Then I’ll do my job.” The job she’d taken on—fixing her father’s mistakes.
I didn’t realize I was one of those mistakes. She should have known though, as soon as she realized what her blood could do. I should have known that he’d made more changes to me.
Her father had been a real-life Frankenstein—and she’d been his monster.
Dante backed away. Finally.
She sucked in a deep breath then hurried past him and climbed onto the motorcycle. Was it better for her to drive? She wouldn’t have to be plastered to him if she was controlling the bike. And for someone who’d never driven a motorcycle before, she’d done a pretty good job for her first time. Good thing she was a quick learner.
I got this.
He climbed on behind her.
His arousal immediately pushed into her ass.
Crap. She should have let him drive. I don’t got this.
His body curled around hers. His fingers covered hers as they rested on the handlebars. “One thing . . .”
Something else? They were burning daylight, they were—
“Don’t ever run from me again.”
She wasn’t about to make him a promise that she couldn’t keep.
“Cassie . . . ”
“Don’t give me a reason to run, and I won’t.”
She kick-started the motorcycle and it pushed forward. Dante didn’t say anything else, and she tried not to think about all of the reasons a woman had to run from a phoenix.
And the only reason she had to stay with him.
Because she still loved him.
“I need to do blood work on you,” Dr. Shaw said. Her clothes were covered in ash, the white lab coat pretty much black.
Jon had taken her to a backup facility in the area, one that had been a satellite office for Genesis at one point.
The small office was empty. Abandoned. Perfect for his purposes.
He hadn’t called his bosses. Hadn’t let them know that he was alive.
If they know, they’ll shove me in a cage and try to replicate my success.
That wasn’t happening. It was his success. His transformation. He was the most powerful being on earth. Even death couldn’t stop him.
Jon could feel the power flowing through his veins, hot and intense. Pulsating within him.
“What was in that injection?” Dr. Shaw asked nervously. “Did it make you . . . what you are?”
He turned his head and stared at her. She was afraid of him. Good. She should be. She would also prove to be useful. Because he had such plans . . . “Yes, it did.” He’d hoped for that result—several now dead scientists had worked toward that goal for a very long time, but he hadn’t been sure of the transformation.
Not until he’d died.
During the course of the dosages, they hadn’t exactly had the chance to experiment and see if the injections were working. The only way to experiment and see if he could rise like a phoenix—was death.