Free Playing With Fire by Cynthia Eden

“What?”
    She knotted her fingers into fists. “You did break. The phoenix shed a tear.”
    He glanced back at her.
    â€œIf you hadn’t cried, I wouldn’t be here.”
    â€œFind another fucking phoenix!”
    It wasn’t like they were easy to find. “As far as I know, there are only three phoenixes in the United States.”
    He whirled toward her.
    Right. Ahem . . . phoenixes had a tendency to kill each other. She probably shouldn’t have mentioned that the others were actually in the U.S.
    A phoenix was truly vulnerable only in that one moment of rising. When a phoenix’s body regenerated and he rose from the flames, it was during that instant of time when he could truly die. A forever death—one from which he would never rise again.
    Most enemies couldn’t brave the heat of the fire long enough to kill a phoenix.
    Another of your kind could do it. Phoenixes could—and had—killed each other before.
    â€œYou’re the oldest phoenix that has ever been discovered,” Cassie said, voice quiet. “According to my father’s journals, you are the first.”
    Dante simply stared at her.
    His stare made her nervous and shaky and so she kept talking. “I took a tear from one of the other phoenixes and tried to synthesize a cure. It didn’t work.” She stepped toward him. “ You are the key to the cure. If you’re the first, I can study your DNA. I can analyze your tears. They could be a more pure form than—”
    â€œI’m not your damn experiment.”
    She flinched at his fury. “I didn’t say that you were.”
    â€œBut you want to put me in your lab, right? Want to run your tests . . . cut me open . . . just like they did.”
    â€œI’m not like them.” She forced the words through numb lips.
    â€œAren’t you?”
    Damn him. She’d worked hard to save lives. To help those who’d been injured by her father and Genesis. “Why are you even here with me?” Cassie demanded. “If you don’t trust me”—she closed the space between them and angrily grabbed on to him as she jumped up those bottom steps—“why are you here?”
    â€œBecause I can’t walk away.”
    Her laugh was bitter. “You didn’t seem to have that trouble in Chicago.”
    His nostrils flared. The banked flames in his eyes lit. “When I breathe in your scent, I ache.”
    Her lips parted in surprise.
    â€œWhen I kissed you, your taste had me maddened.”
    â€œDante . . .”
    â€œI look at you, and I think . . . mine. ”
    Could he hear the drumbeat of her heart? It felt like it was about to race right out of her chest.
    â€œYou say we aren’t lovers, but in my dreams, I’ve seen you naked.”
    She dropped his hands. He wasn’t supposed to—
    His hand rose. Touched her just over the curve of her right breast. “There’s a freckle here. I’ve licked it. I’ve kissed it.” His gaze swept down her body. “In my dreams, I’ve kissed you everywhere.”
    Her memory was absolutely fine and that had not happened. “Just dreams,” she breathed out. “Not reality. That hasn’t happened!”
    â€œI’m not leaving you because I can still taste you. I’m not leaving you because I fucking want you under me. I want to be buried so far inside of you that I stop caring about what’s real and what’s a dream.”
    â€œTh-that’s why you’re with me? Sex?” He wanted her to sleep with him? Like that was some kind of hardship.
    â€œPossession.”
    She didn’t understand what that rough growl meant. “I don’t—”
    â€œI feel like you’re mine. I’m here . . . fucking here . . . because I can’t let you go.” Then his mouth was on hers. He’d wrapped his arms around her. Lifted her up against him, and just taken her