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Playing With Fire

Playing With Fire (Phoenix Fire #3)(72)
Author: Cynthia Eden

Okay, she should probably be careful with this reveal.

“He’s the one who sent Sabine to us.” She paused and searched Dante’s gaze. “Do you remember her?”

“I remember everything.”

Her breath rushed out. “That’s a relief. It seems like your memories are coming back faster. Maybe you’re getting even—”

He shook his head. “My memories are back because of you.”

She wasn’t sure how to respond.

“You used the power of the siren and you ordered me to remember.” A little shrug. “So I did.”

“I thought we’d agreed I couldn’t use that power.” Her voice had dropped. A big knot had also formed in her stomach.

“No, we said when you were stressed or scared, that power comes out.”

Yes, he was definitely remembering a whole lot.

“I’m guessing you were feeling pretty stressed”—his gaze drifted from hers and slid to the staircase—“when we were up there.”

When she’d confessed that she loved him. Cassie knew her cheeks had to be flaming.

She’d confessed, he’d gotten his memory back, and, no, there had been no claims of undying love from him.

Obviously, they were back to business as usual.

She spun on her heel so he wouldn’t see her face. “S-Sabine is the only female phoenix I’ve ever encountered. While at Genesis, she fell in love with a vampire—”

“Ryder.”

Right. Cassie tried not to shiver at his name. He was very, very powerful, and he scared the hell out of her.

“I’ve dealt with Ryder before.” No fear in Dante’s words.

Figures.

She could fear enough for both of them. She ran a hand through her hair. “Keith has a place in the Quarter. If Charles and Jamie made it to the city, they’ll be there tonight. Charles . . . and I have been communicating privately with Keith while we worked on a cure for Vaughn.”

How was she supposed to tell Keith that his only son was dead?

“What about Cain?”

“He should be in New Orleans, too. He’ll be with Eve and . . .” What had happened to Trace? “I hope Trace hasn’t killed anyone,” Cassie whispered. “Maybe Eve was able to keep Trace in check.”

“I’m sure Cain has him under control.” Dante didn’t sound the least bit worried. “If not, then he probably killed the werewolf.”

Cassie’s control snapped and she spun toward him. “Why is death so easy for you?”

A shrug. “Because I’ve died hundreds of times.”

She flinched. “Most of us don’t get the luxury of coming back. Death is permanent for us. We live, we love, and many of us don’t want to die. Death rips us away too soon from the people that we love!”

He pushed away from the mantel and walked toward her. “You came back. When you were hurt before, in this very city—”

“Because of something my father did to me! Because I’m a walking experiment! But how long does it last? I’m not like you. One of these days, I’ll die, and I won’t come back.” Her breath heaved out. “So don’t talk about killing like it’s nothing. All the lives—they matter to someone. Trace has friends. Eve is his friend. I’m his friend.” Cassie’s shoulders slumped. “We all matter.”

Dante was staring down at her with confusion on his face.

Did he truly not understand?

“Someone had to matter to you,” she whispered. “At some point, at some time, it couldn’t have always been so easy for you to kill.”

“I kill so that others can survive.” Hard words.

Maybe no one had mattered. Her hand lifted. She touched his chest.

He immediately stilled beneath her hand.

“I can feel your heart beating,” Cassie whispered. Beating at a fast and strong rate. “You have a heart, but do you love?”

His eyes were carefully guarded.

I guess that’s my answer.

She tried to pull her hand back, but his hand rose and curled around hers, holding it in place. “I loved my brother, and I still killed him.”

The way of the phoenix.

“We do what we must in order to survive.”

But if they all became monsters, what was that survival worth?

“I will do anything”—his hold tightened on her—“to ensure your survival.”

Pushed too far, she had to ask, “Would you cry for me, Dante?”

His dark eyes held hers.

“If I couldn’t heal myself, if I were dying right in front of you, would you cry for me?”

A phoenix’s tears had to be shed willingly. They couldn’t be harvested from the tear ducts. Their power came from the pain of the phoenix.

Dante wasn’t answering.

That was an answer.

She forced herself to smile. “Not that you have to. I’m an indestructible girl, right? No need to ever cry over me.”

He let her go. “I would kill in an instant to keep you safe.”

“Again with the killing.” She hoped her smile didn’t look as sad as she felt. “Sometimes, it’s not about killing. It’s about sacrificing. Putting someone else’s life first.” Cassie tried to straighten her shoulders. “Look, how about we both just stay alive tonight, okay?” She glanced at the old clock on the mantel. “We need to leave and head over for the rendezvous.”

“You know I have to kill.”

His words fell heavily into the room.

“The phoenix in those woods—the man you called Jon Abrams—he won’t stop until I stop him.” The floor creaked as Dante walked toward her. Then his hand was on her shoulder.

Cassie forced herself to glance back at him.

“You can say the world is about sacrifice, but I won’t let him keep threatening you. And I won’t let the bastard hunt me. Running isn’t my way.”

No, not his.

“So I’ll go with you to meet your friends. And when you’re safe”—Dante gave a grim nod—“I will end Jon.”

The house sat, with its lights shining, at the end of Hollow Way. They hadn’t come to the home of Keith Adams in their loud, grinding truck.

A backup ride had waited for them at Cassie’s safe house. “Do you think they’re inside?” Cassie whispered.

She wouldn’t look at Dante—not for long, anyway. Her gaze kept darting from him. He’d upset her back at the safe house.

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