Playing With Fire (Phoenix Fire #3)(42)
Author: Cynthia Eden

She shook her head, sending her hair brushing over his arm. “Trace isn’t going to hurt me.”

Dante wasn’t in the mood to test that theory.

“He won’t,” Cassie said, sounding so sure. “I’ve given him dozens of injections, and he’s never attacked me.”

“There’s a first time for everything.” Dante didn’t let her go. “If his beast is in control, he could attack at any moment.”

Her fingers tightened around the syringe. “He won’t. Just . . . give me a minute to do this, all right? Once he gets the dosage, he’ll be calmer. He always is.”

Dante wasn’t sure he bought that bullshit. The thing he was sure of? He didn’t want Cassie getting any closer to Trace.

“Give it to me,” Dante gritted because he knew what he had to do.

She blinked.

Dante smothered a sigh. “Give me the damn syringe. If anyone’s getting close to the guy, it sure won’t be you.” He could handle himself if the wolf got wild. He’d just burn the beast.

But Cassie was hesitating. “I don’t want you killing him.” Dante took the syringe from her. “Then he’d better not attack me.”

Sure enough, as he stepped toward that man-beast, the guy tried to lunge for him.

“You don’t want to piss me off,” Dante told him, voice flat. “You won’t like it when the anger burns through me. No one ever does.”

The man-beast snapped his teeth together.

And Dante drove that syringe into the fellow’s throat in one fast, hard hit.

A loud, echoing howl broke from Trace, and he sagged in his restraints, falling down to his knees.

Dante carefully eased back, watching the guy closely.

The claws didn’t vanish. Those bulging muscles didn’t change. So far, that injection wasn’t doing anything. How long was it supposed to take before—

The guy’s head tilted back. His eyes weren’t quite so wild. The beast still glowed there, but Dante could have sworn he saw a hint of the man, too.

“Thank . . . you . . .” Trace gasped as his shoulders sagged forward.

Cassie took the syringe from Dante. Disposed of it. Then she was back, sliding toward the kneeling werewolf. “I told you,” she said as she glanced back at Dante. “He’s calmer after the dose.”

Calmer, and far more human.

Dante frowned, but he didn’t try to stop Cassie when she approached Trace.

Cassie reached out and slid her hand against the werewolf’s arm.

Trace looked at her. “You . . . came . . . back . . .” Each word seemed to be a struggle for him.

Cassie nodded and smiled at the guy.

Yes, the werewolf was calmer, but Dante wasn’t. With that touch and smile, the tension in his body deepened.

“I told you that I’d be back. And Dante over there? He’s here to help you.”

The werewolf’s eyes turned to him. Weighed him. “How?” Trace rasped.

How indeed.

“Let me work on that part,” Cassie said. “But first, I need to check you out. So let’s just keep those claws away.” She started to check the werewolf. Putting a stethoscope against his heart. Drawing his blood.

Running her hands over his back.

Dante’s back teeth clenched.

It was a clinical exam. Nothing sexual there at all, but—

He remembered the lieutenant colonel’s words. Her lover is sick. Not sick so much as transforming. If she can’t help her werewolf, she’ll lose him, and Cassie doesn’t want to lose Trace.

Cassie wasn’t Trace’s lover. Dante knew that. Cassie had never been anyone’s lover.

But mine.

He stayed close during the exam, not trusting those knife-like claws, but Trace made no move to attack Cassie. By the end of the exam, he was sitting in a metal chair, the chains pulling against him.

“Okay, that’s all for now.” Cassie rose to her feet. “I’ll run the blood work and see where we are—”

“Cure . . .” Trace growled.

Cassie nodded. “I think we’re close, Trace. I do. With Dante here—”

But Trace gave a hard shake of his head. “Cure . . . or kill . . .”

Dante eased closer to Cassie. The werewolf had better not be threatening her.

“Cure . . .” Trace said again, his face locked in desperate lines as he struggled to speak. “Or . . . kill . . . me.”

Dante felt the ripple of shock go through Cassie’s body. “We’re not to that point, Trace! There’s hope. You just need to give me more time.”

Dante wasn’t seeing hope in Trace’s gaze. And that gaze swung to him. The same plea the werewolf had just voiced to Cassie was in that stare.

“Why the hell is everyone asking me to kill them?” Dante muttered. He didn’t like the pain that he could suddenly feel emanating from Cassie. She shouldn’t know pain.

“You.” He pointed at the werewolf. “Save the death wish for later. Dying is easy. I know—I’ve done it more times than I can count. Use the power of your beast and live.”

Anger flared in Trace’s eyes. He surged to his feet, but the chains stopped him from advancing.

Dante smiled at him. “Maybe one day those chains won’t be on you. Maybe . . . if you stop asking folks to kill your mangy ass . . . you can be free.”

The anger made the glow deepen in Trace’s eyes.

Good. Anger was far better than desperation.

Better than hopelessness.

Dante pushed Cassie toward the door. She had her tests to run, and, well, now that the wolf was getting amped again, Dante didn’t want her close to him any longer.

Cassie slipped from the room.

“Her . . . smell . . . ”

Dante looked back at the werewolf ’s rough words.

“Mate . . .” Trace growled.

Anger pumped through Dante. “No, she’s not yours, so don’t even think—”

“Dangerous . . . protect her . . .”

“I’ll keep her safe, because she’s mine.” Had been, for longer than Cassie even realized.

Dante left the room. Cassie sealed Trace back inside. Had she heard what the wolf said? What he’d said?

A tear slid down her cheek. Dante bent and wiped that tear away.

“He didn’t deserve this. Trace was just trying to help his friends. He was helping them when my brother—”

She had a brother?

“My brother injected him with Lycan-70. Richard knew how dangerous that mix was, but he didn’t care.” Her hand raked through her hair. “That’s always been my family’s problem. They just don’t care who they hurt.”