Playing With Fire (Phoenix Fire #3)(9)
Author: Cynthia Eden

His gaze was on her body. “Your shoulder’s cut open.”

She could feel that gaze 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 whispered. It was almost like a fantasy she’d had once. Dante had come in. He’d been desperate for her. He’d picked her up, 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-I’m human.”

The water hit him, too, but he didn’t seem to care. His shirt brushed over her br**sts 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 explanations.”

She was na**d and he was—just pissed.

It definitely wasn’t 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 about two 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 study 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, the guy 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 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 . . . 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 loud fury.

Hers 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. Touching him had definitely not been a good idea.

“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-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. Stormed from the bathroom and headed for the exit.

“Dante!”