“The vampire,” Jon blasted at her. “We need him.”
Dr. Shaw’s eyes widened, but she turned on her heels. Jon kept his hold on Cassie and pulled her down the hallway, following the other woman.
The scent of blood grew stronger.
“Where’s Keith?” Cassie asked nervously.
“I have a guard at his house . . . in case any of your other friends show up.”
And they would. Jamie. Charles. Eve. Cain. It was just a matter of time until they all walked into the trap.
They’d be taken to Jon, too.
I’ll stop him.
One step at a time. She would do this.
Dr. Shaw pushed open a heavy metal door. An operating room waited inside. Vaughn was . . . oh, jeez, Vaughn was on the table, and it looked like someone had tried to carve out his heart.
“Vaughn!” Cassie ran toward him.
His eyes opened. “Shouldn’t . . . be here . . . Go . . .”
“You shouldn’t be here, either.” The fact that he was still alive with that kind of injury . . . he hadn’t returned to a human state. She could see the sharp points of his canines. Fangs.
He was strapped down to that table. She saw the switch for the release button on the straps, and lunged toward it.
Only to find her way blocked by Dr. Shaw. “What do you think you’re doing?” the other woman demanded.
It should be obvious. “I’m getting him out of here.”
“Jon!” Dr. Shaw screamed. “What’s happening?”
Jon shook his head, but didn’t advance.
“Get out of my way,” Cassie said, pitching her voice low. “Just step to the side and get—”
Dr. Shaw started to laugh.
That laughter chilled Cassie.
The chill got even worse when Dr. Shaw said, “Really, half-breed? You think you have enough power to tell me what to do?” Then Shaw’s gaze turned to Jon. “Grab her and hold her.”
Even Cassie could feel the power in the woman’s voice.
Jon immediately grabbed Cassie.
She stared at Dr. Shaw in shock.
“What?” Shaw’s perfectly arched blond brows rose. “Did you seriously think you were the only siren around? How do you think I convinced that crazy bastard”—she pointed at Jon—“to keep me alive?”
Before Cassie could think of a reply, Dr. Shaw leaped forward and shoved a gag into Cassie’s mouth. Cassie tried to fight her, but Jon was holding her too tightly.
Shaw secured the gag then pointed to the second operating table on the right. “Now strap her down.”
Jon followed Dr. Shaw’s instructions with that dazed look in his eyes.
“If you can’t talk, then you don’t have any power.” Dr. Shaw smiled at her. “And I don’t want you to have any power at all.”
Jon had strapped her down, controlling her struggles like they were nothing.
“You let the phoenix go, didn’t you?” Dr. Shaw asked her with narrowed eyes.
Cassie glared at her.
“Love—it makes women do some damn stupid things. But no worries.” Dr. Shaw pulled out a syringe. “I’m sure he’ll follow you here. From what I could tell, he’s mated to you, and he’ll follow his mate anywhere.” She drove that needle into Cassie’s flesh.
Fire burned through her blood.
“Does this feel familiar?” Dr. Shaw’s voice was mild. “It’s similar to the dosage your father gave you when you were a child, after the first time he accidentally killed you.” She shrugged. “Or maybe it wasn’t so accidental. Who knows?”
The burn . . .
“Because of your siren blood, the guy actually stumbled onto a serum that would make you nearly immortal. You could heal from any injury. Amazing.” Dr. Shaw actually sounded like she meant that. “Of course, I didn’t exactly know what was happening until I took all of those wonderful samples from you at the ranch. Then I saw just what you could do.”
When I get loose . . .
“The drug I just gave you? I’m afraid it’s going to have the reverse effect on you. No more super healing for you.”
It seemed as if Cassie’s heartbeat was slowing down.
“It’s nothing personal. Well, maybe it is.” Dr. Shaw tapped her chin with a white-gloved finger. “You see, I need to hurt Dante because he hurt me. He took something incredibly precious from me a long time ago.”
Cassie’s gaze narrowed.
Jon was standing stock-still.
Vaughn groaned.
“Once upon a time, I loved a man very much. I loved him so much that I wanted to make sure that no one would ever be able to take him from me,” Dr. Shaw said.
There were tears in her eyes.
“So I took steps to protect my Wren. Only . . . Dante didn’t do what he should have done. Instead of dying, he took my Wren’s life.”
Wren. Dante’s brother.
“The way to break a phoenix isn’t just by going through the fire. It’s by taking their hearts. I’m going to kill you, Cassie, and Dante will lose his heart. Then Jon”—she waved her hand toward the still man—“will finish Dante, and maybe then . . . maybe then, I will sleep for the first time in centuries without hearing the echo of Wren’s last cry—without hearing him scream my name before Dante killed him.”
Oh, shit.
They were so screwed.
He knocked out a guard, and, since he didn’t feel like rushing into the building naked, he grabbed the guy’s clothes.
A little tight, but they’d do.
He inhaled. She was in there.
Waiting for him. Once he had her safe in his arms, he would burn the whole place down.
He didn’t worry about being subtle. He just rushed toward the main entrance. When another guard turned on him with a gun, he melted the gun.
The guard ran.
Dante went inside.
I am Dante. Dante.
The name had come to him because he remembered her whispering it. Good-bye, Dante. The faint words had seemed to drift in the wind.
It wasn’t good-bye. It would never be, for them.
Inside, more guards came at him. He lifted his hand. His fire made them flee, too.
Too easy. Humans were no challenge for him.
They never had been.
He followed her scent. Saw the metal door. She waited behind it. He was so close to her.
So very close.
His fire sent the door crashing in. He surged inside. Found her instantly. On the table. With her head turned toward him, her eyes wild and afraid.
And a . . . gag in her mouth?
He stepped toward her.
“Stop, Dante.”
The voice seemed to slide inside him, freezing him.
She walked from the shadows. Her blond hair brushed her shoulders. Her face—beautiful, cold—seemed familiar.
“Remember me. Remember everything.”
He went to his knees as the images flooded through his mind. Images. Voices. Death.
“What would be the point of all this if you didn’t remember?” she asked. “You have to remember so that you can suffer.”
Her voice . . .
I love him, and we will be together. Nothing will ever take me from Wren. Her eyes, that icy blue, had found his. You will die. All of the phoenixes will fight until death, and then only my Wren will remain.
Zura.
Dante saw her in a field stained black by ash—the ash that had come from the dying phoenixes. So many dead.
She was screaming.
Wren was dying.
Dante frowned. “You’re . . . dead . . .”
“No, I’m not. It took me a good century to heal from my burns and to look normal again, but I’m very much not dead.” She smiled at him. “You won’t be able to say the same soon.” Zura pointed to him. “Don’t move a single muscle.”
His body locked down.
“Did you know . . . much like a vampire and a phoenix, a siren’s power only increases with age? A me
re whisper from me”—she walked next to Jon and whispered in his ear—“can compel even the strongest of paranormal beings.”
Jon crossed to the nearby table and picked up the gleaming knife that waited there.
“You should know, Dante, that, before you arrived, I gave Cassie a little injection.” Zura smiled. “I’m a pretty good doctor, too, you know. When you can live forever, you have the chance to pick up so many skills.”
She shouldn’t be living. She’d been dead.
But . . . he remembered . . . Wren had been over her. Clinging to her.
Had his brother cried for her?
He must have.
“Once I found the original formula that helped to make your Cassie so indestructible, well, it was easy enough to find a way to undo that little process.”
Jon had taken his knife and was stalking toward Cassie.
Cassie shook her head and desperately tried to speak behind the gag. Her eyes were on Dante.
“She won’t be so quick to heal this time,” Zura promised.
Jon was over Cassie. Staring down at her.
His body shuddered, but he lifted the knife. “S-sorry . . .” he gasped.
“Don’t be sorry,” Zura ordered. “Kill her.”
Dante couldn’t even speak. Couldn’t move even a finger to help her.
Cassie was less than ten feet away from him, and he could do nothing.
Jon drove the knife into Cassie’s chest.
No!
“Oh, wait. It gets better.” Zura was nearly purring. “You see . . . she won’t come back. She won’t heal. She’ll just rot.” Zura smiled at him. “Told you . . . better.”
Jon stared down at Cassie. Then he pulled out the bloody knife. The sound that it made . . .
Cassie’s eyes were closed.
“Do you feel like the knife just went in you? Do you feel like you’re the one who died, Dante?” Zura demanded.
He couldn’t speak.
“Respond!” she screamed, freeing him from her spell.
Oh, he’d fucking respond all right.
He sent a blast of fire rolling right toward her. You should have been more careful with your damn words, Zura. A siren had to be very, very careful what she said.
The fire rolled over her. The scream she gave was full of pain.
He grabbed out with his hand. Caught the instrument tray. Picked up one scalpel.
Jabbed it into his right ear.
Then the left ear.
And he couldn’t hear her screams anymore.
He couldn’t hear anything. Blood poured from his ears, but he didn’t care.
Cassie was all that mattered.
He ran to her, even as Jon pushed Zura to the ground and began to pound out the flames on her body.
Dante yanked the gag from Cassie’s mouth. Broke the straps that held her down.
“Cassie?” He couldn’t hear his own voice, but his throat vibrated.
She didn’t stir.
He stared down at her chest. So much blood. Zura had told Jon to kill her, and it looked like the bastard had tried his best to carry out her order.
Would you cry for me, Dante?
“I won’t let you go.” He would cry, he would—
Jon tackled him. They hit the table that Cassie was on, and she fell to the floor. They all fell, tumbling across the hard tile.
Dante grabbed Jon. Punched him. Again and again and again.
He was the man who’d hurt Cassie. Who’d stabbed her.
Killed her?
Not gone yet. I won’t let her be gone. I can save her.
He just had to get to her.
The bloody knife was inches from his hand. He grabbed it—and drove the blade deep into Jon’s heart.
Payback.
Jon stared up at him, eyes wide and lost.
“When you rise,” Dante rasped out, “I will be here. And I will destroy you. You won’t come back ever again.”
The life drained from Jon’s eyes.
Dante grabbed for Cassie. His eyes were burning, but not from the fire. From tears that were coming—coming up from the phoenix who would not let his mate vanish. He would not—
A gunshot blasted.
He felt the bullet tunnel through his back, then it ripped from his chest.
Cassie hadn’t opened her eyes.
He was falling . . . dropping down on top of her because Zura had shot him. Killed him, before he could save Cassie. If he didn’t heal her before he rose, his fire would take her.
And there would be nothing left.
His own eyes closed, and he thought, hoped—fucking prayed—that the tear drop would fall before he died.
Then he felt arms yanking on him, pulling him away from Cassie.
No.
His hands clamped around her, and his face brushed against hers.
She loved him. Screwed up, twisted monster that he was, Cassie loved him.
He wasn’t going to give up on her. Never.
He kicked out, his foot slamming into something soft.
I would cry for you, Cassie. I would bleed, beg, kill, and damn well die for you.
The secret he’d held so long, the one he’d been afraid to reveal—when he feared nothing else—was that he didn’t remember her each time just because they were mates.
It wasn’t about biology. About her being a siren and him being a phoenix.
It was about a man and a woman.
About love.
He’d loved her for years, and the memory of love—that was the only thing that could always get through the fire.
They were both dead.
Cassie. And the big, tough-looking bastard who’d tried to save her.
Dead.
Vaughn craned his neck, trying to see them. They were on the floor. It looked like the one Shaw had called Dante was holding Cassie, even in death.
Shaw was trying to pull Dante’s body off Cassie’s.
Not working. The woman wasn’t physically strong, no matter what crazy mojo she could do with her voice.
Dante made sure he couldn’t hear her. When he couldn’t hear her, she couldn’t control him. That bastard had played hard when he’d driven the scalpel into his own ears.
Smoke began to rise.
Shaw was standing above Vaughn, and she looked . . . scared.
Why? Everyone else was dead. What did she have to fear? Vaughn was strapped. Weak from blood loss, and, unless he missed his guess, about to join all of the others in death.
“When I free you, do exactly as I order. You don’t attack me.”
He hated her voice, even as it seemed to wrap around him like a dark temptation.
She disengaged the straps. Blisters were on her arms. “Drag Dante away from Cassie. If that fool actually cried for her . . . No—no, he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t.”
It looked like the guy had died for her.
Vaughn rolled off the table. Hit the floor. His blood splattered everywhere. But he was helpless to refuse her orders.
When she spoke, she controlled.
So I have to stop her from speaking.
He caught Dante’s leg. Pulled him.
Cassie’s eyes were closed. Her chest didn’t rise.
And the smoke wasn’t coming from Dante. The smoke was coming from the other guy. Jon. Great.
He dropped Dante.
“Now pick up that stake, and stab it in your heart,” Shaw ordered.
He turned toward the stake, the one the bitch had oh, so conveniently left on the table. The lady had planned well, he’d give her that, but from the sound of things, she’d been planning revenge for one very long time.
His gaze slid to Cassie. Had her chest just moved? It looked like her lips had parted, but maybe he’d imagined that.
Then he heard voices. Shouting.
Coming from outside in the hallway.
“I want my son!”
His father’s voice. Breaking with emotion. It had been so long since Vaughn had seen his
father.
His last memory of him, the last clear memory was from the night he’d been bitten.
I think I tried to kill him.
“Damn humans,” Shaw muttered. “Time to kill them all. Vampire, let’s have some fun.”
He knew he wasn’t going to like her idea of fun.
“Come with me.”
He turned away from the stake. The room’s doors had been blown away by Dante, and he followed her outside like a damn sheep to the slaughter.
And there was his father. A guard had a gun shoved into his dad’s back. A boy—maybe around fourteen—stood beside him, and there was another man, with thin blond hair, a guy who was trying to shield the boy.
“Don’t come at him again!” the blond man screamed when he saw Vaughn.
Again?
Shame slid through Vaughn even as his gaze swept over the boy. He was familiar.
I’m sorry.
Vaughn knew he’d hurt the boy. Hurt so many.
His gaze turned to his father. His dad looked as if he’d aged twenty years since the night of Vaughn’s attack.
“V-Vaughn?” his father whispered. “Are you really back?” Vaughn nodded.
“Now for the fun,” Shaw murmured. “Vaughn, go rip out their throats, starting with your father.”
Keith’s eyes widened. “No, son. No!”
“Sorry, but he’s not taking orders from you now,” Shaw said. “It’s my voice that he follows. Mine.”
Helpless, Vaughn started to walk toward his father. “Get away, Dad,” he whispered. “Get the guard’s gun. Shoot me. Get out of here!”
But his dad seemed frozen. Broken.
“I missed you, Vaughn,” Keith said softly. “Your mother . . . had a heart attack a few months back. I lost her. I didn’t want to lose you . . .”
And Vaughn didn’t want to kill his father.
The boy—lunged forward and caught the guard unaware. The kid grabbed the gun and aimed it at Vaughn. “No more!” the kid screamed.
“Drop the gun,” Shaw said, her voice cracking with power.
The gun immediately fell from his hands.
The blond man pushed the boy back behind him.
Vaughn was almost in front of his father. Nearly close enough to kill.
“Make them suffer,” Shaw shouted, her voice feverish and wild. “Make them—ahhh!”