He thrust into her.
The need built once more within Cassie. She was too sensitive and every stroke—
“Dante!” Her nails dug into him.
He growled. “Yes . . . yes . . .”
She came again.
And he exploded within her. His hands held her so tightly, the heat in the room built, and she almost expected to see flames shooting along the old bedspread.
Instead of fire, she saw him. Dante kissed her. She tasted his need and his lust and his pleasure.
So much pleasure.
It was sweeping over her and she could only shudder at the release that wouldn’t end.
She never wanted it to end.
Slowly, so slowly, he lowered her legs. Slid out of her.
Dammit. She hadn’t been ready for him to go.
He pulled up the covers, wrapping her carefully, and tucking her gently to his side.
“I like my new memories,” he said, voice deep.
That was the last thing she’d expected him to say. A laugh slipped from her, one that was real and happy. In that moment, she was happy.
She was with Dante. Her whole body was blissed out.
And her phoenix liked his memories. He laughed then, too. It was deep and rumbly and wonderful.
Her own laughter stilled.
He laughed.
Her lips began to tremble.
Dante’s laughter stopped. Worry chased across his face. “Cassie, what is it?”
I love you. I’ve loved you since I was eight years old. In all of those years, this is the first time you ever laughed—real laughter. Not the bitter sound of mockery that she’d heard in Genesis.
“I just got my wish,” she told him softly.
He frowned at her.
No, her words would make no sense to him. She didn’t care.
Cassie bent and kissed him and hoped that he hadn’t noticed the tears in her eyes.
Dante was happy, and so was she.
He hurt.
Vaughn Adams cracked open his eyes and glanced around. He had no damn idea where he was, but he felt pretty sure that he was about to vomit.
“You’re awake.” A woman’s voice. A voice he didn’t know.
He turned his head to the right and saw her. A woman with blond hair, wearing a white lab coat.
Not the same woman. It wasn’t the woman who’d come to him again and again, with the voice that soothed and made the bloodlust still within him, even as the scent of her blood had tempted him.
“Jon didn’t intend to kill you. If he had, he would have made sure not to miss your heart.” Her voice was very matter-of-fact. “Or he would have burned you.”
“You . . .” Vaughn’s voice was raspy, too rough. “You . . . talkin’ about that bastard who . . . staked me?”
“Lieutenant Colonel Jon Abrams.” She gave a quick nod and glanced back over her shoulder. Like she was nervous.
Or scared.
“He didn’t want you dead,” she told him quickly. “We can’t . . . learn as much from the dead.”
Vaughn tried to move and realized that he was strapped down on a table.
Not good.
“Let me up,” he said, his voice gaining strength with his rising fury. “Your boss is crazy! He tried to kill me.” And when I find him, I’ll offer some serious payback. “But you haven’t hurt me, so lady, I don’t have any grudge against you.”
She wasn’t moving to let him up.
He strained against the metal straps.
“Those straps keep werewolves contained without any problem.” Still that matter-of-fact voice that he didn’t like. “So I think they’ll manage to hold you just fine.” She crept closer and studied him with a detached, clinical gaze. “Though I’ll confess, I’m not exactly sure what you are.”
“I’m a detective with the New Orleans Police Department, and trust me on this, you do not want to screw with the NOPD!”
“Until a few hours ago, I believe you were a primal vampire. I doubt that you’ve even spoken in full sentences like this since your . . . infection.” Her gaze swept over him. “But now your claws are gone and you only have fangs on your canine teeth.”
She acted like she’d missed the whole NOPD part.
But . . . her words were giving him pause. Claws are gone.
His heart started to race faster in his chest. Cassie. Her name slipped through his mind. The woman with the soothing voice, and the blood that had begged for him to drink it. She had cured him. She’d said she would.
She’d done it.
“I need to understand what she did to you.”
Wow. Hold up. His gaze dropped to her right hand. That woman needed to put down the scalpel and step back from him.
“I have to replicate it. I have to see . . . Are you human again?” She shook her head. “I don’t think you completely are, not with those fangs.”
His tongue ran over said fangs. The two sharp canines were much better than the mouthful he’d had before.
“Do you want blood?”
She came closer with that scalpel.
“Keep it away from me!” He wasn’t in the mood to get sliced.
The blonde blinked. “I’m not going to hurt you.” She took the scalpel and sliced it over her skin.
Her blood trickled over her arm.
“I’m just going to see if you’re hungry.”
The blood glistened, dark red. And Vaughn realized that he was . . . He was hungry.
She held her arm over his face, and he opened his mouth, suddenly desperate for that blood.
“Vampires usually need a lot of blood after an injury. You still haven’t healed fully yet.”
He hadn’t even felt an injury.
“But maybe that will change with a little blood.” Drops of her blood fell into his mouth.
So damn good.
“Interesting.”
After those few precious drops, she stepped back and began wrapping her injured arm in long, white strips of cloth. “You sure act like a vampire, but you don’t look primal.”
“I’m not,” he gritted out. When he’d been in that primal haze of bloodlust and endless hunger, speech had been all but impossible. The longer he’d been primal, the harder it had been to pull up speech. As if ... as if with each passing day, he’d become more of an animal.
And, sure, that woman’s blood was like honey on his tongue, but he wasn’t foaming at the mouth to have more.
I have control.
He wasn’t planning on losing it anytime soon.
“Since I’m not primal, I’m not a threat.” Vaughn tried to keep his voice calm and reasonable. Reason might work with this lady. “You can let me go.”