heated, going molten, and seeming to spread through his veins. Soon the fire was bursting from his fingertips, rising right over his hands, swirling in a thick ball. Red, gold, and orange, those flames flared higher and brighter.
The men swore and jumped back. But they didnât flee. Fools. They lifted their weapons. Aimed at him.
He would incinerate them.
He wouldâ
âNo!â
It was her scream. His head whipped to the right, and Dante saw the woman with the thick, dark hair running toward him. Her face was paler than it had been before. Her green eyes seemed huge, her red lips were trembling andâ
âDante, get out of here! Theyâll drug you!â
The men fired their weapons. Except they didnât aim at him.
A bullet blasted and slammed into Cassieâs shoulder. Her eyes widened as she stumbled back. But she didnât go down. âRun!â she yelled at him. âGet out of here!â
He wasnât running anywhere.
Theyâd shot her.
The fire raged hotter and fury had him snarlingâand letting that fire go.
Theyâd shot her.
The flames flew from him and the fire raced right for the gunmen. They screamedâ yes, now itâs your turn to screamâ and dropped their weapons.
Falling to the floor, the men rolled over and over as they tried to put out the flames that licked greedily along their clothing.
âDante . . .â A whisper. Her whisper.
The woman whoâd haunted him. Obsessed him.
Enraged him.
She was on her knees, struggling to get to him, and he . . . found himself running to her side.
âI-itâs a drug,â she whispered. âThey were . . . trying to take us in . . . alive . . .â
The men werenât taking anyone in. They were running out, dragging their wounded with them. The other paranormals were rushing for safety, too.
âGo,â Cassie told him. âBefore theyâre back with . . . reinforcements.â Her eyelids were sagging closed. The drug sheâd spoken of was knocking her out. âGo,â she whispered again.
What was he to do with her? Leave her there? Sheâd just said the men would come back with reinforcements. When they returned, theyâd take her.
No. No one takes her from me.
The thought made him tense. It wasâthough he did not know whyâthe first thought heâd had when heâd looked up and seen her coming toward him in Taboo.
No one takes her from me.
He scooped her into his arms. Rose with her held tightly against his chest. He worriedâtoo lateâthat the heat from his hands might burn her.
But there were no burn marks on her delicate skin.
Her head fell back against his shoulder, but her eyelashes were still flickering, and Dante knew that she was fighting to stay awake.
âWhat will they do if they take you?â he asked her.
âC-cage . . .â
An image flashed in his mind. Thick, metal bars. A flickering fluorescent light. A dirty, stone floor.
He could taste ash rising on his tongue. He didnât want to taste the ash. He wanted to taste her again. Sweet, light . . .
Temptation.
âYouâre not going in a cage,â he promised.
His arms tightened around her. This woman . . . heâd thought she was a phantom from his mind, someone else to torment him. Not real. Then heâd looked up and seen her. Sheâd come to him.
Flesh and blood.
Real .
He strode from the wreckage of Taboo, hurrying into the night. Sirens wailed. Voices cried out.
He ran faster. Held her even tighter.
Cassie Armstrong was the key to his life. The key to finding out just whoâwhatâhe was.
And he had no plans to let her go.
No one takes her from me.
Â
Lieutenant Colonel Jon Abrams marched into the wreckage of the paranormal club. Tables were overturned. Chairs smashed. The doorway still smoldered from the flames that had been unleashed on his men.
âYou had him here?â Jon demanded, turning to the men