She’d been so ridiculously sure of Dante. Even with his memory gone, she’d thought that the emotions that connected them were still there, right beneath the surface.

She stared at her ashen reflection in the mirror. There was no connection between them. Dante felt nothing for her.

Her world seemed to be crumbling around her.

Dante’s hands clenched into fists. He wanted to run after her, to kick in that door—and what?

He’d given her the truth, one that was long overdue. Cassie saw herself as a human, but she was something far more than that.

Death hadn’t been able to take her.

In New Orleans, he’d been frozen, mute, so desperate when she died—but then she’d opened her eyes and seen him again.

No fire. Just life.

The water was running in the bathroom. He was very much afraid that she’d turned on the water to drown out the sound of crying. He didn’t want her to cry.

Dante jerked on his jeans. Pulled on a white T-shirt he’d stashed in the cabin when he’d made a fast run for her clothing. Even took the time to put his boots back on.

Cassie didn’t come out of the bathroom.

His breath exhaled in a hard rush. They had more talking to do. As much as Cassie wanted to head back to Mississippi, he couldn’t let her go. Another male phoenix would recognize her for what she was.

And Dante couldn’t allow that.

The others would have to fend for themselves. He’d crossed a line with Cassie last night, and there would be no other for her.

They’d head north. To Canada. Hell, maybe they’d even cross an ocean soon. He’d been away from his home in France for far too long.

Cassie still hadn’t come from the bathroom.

He walked toward that closed door. He rapped lightly. “Cassie?”

He heard only the running of the water.

“You can’t stay in there forever.” And you can’t hide from me. He knew that was exactly what she was trying to do. Not happening. He’d seen all of her last night. She’d seen all of him. “Cassie?”

He heard nothing but—

The revving of an engine.

Dante kicked in the door. The bathroom was empty. The window—a damn tiny window—had been left open.

“Cassie!” He bellowed her name then he was spinning around. Running back through the cabin and outside. He saw the whip of her hair as she raced away from him, riding hell-fast on the motorcycle.

And leaving him behind.

For a moment, he just stared at her in shock. She hadn’t left him. He’d saved her at that ranch. He’d taken her in that bed. She wouldn’t just leave him.

Dust drifted in the motorcycle’s path.

She’d f**king just left him.

He whirled around and stomped back into the cabin. The water was still running. He yanked it off. Left. Me. He knew where she was going—to Mississippi. To meet up with the other phoenixes and with the werewolf who seemed to matter far too much to her.

Inside the cabin, he smelled her. That light, seductive scent. The scent that had nearly driven him out of his mind so many times.

She ran from me.

Because she’d known what he wanted? Her . . . far away from any others.

He inhaled deeper and stalked toward the bed. The sheets were tangled, and her scent was deeper there. More lush.

He grabbed the sheets. Yanked them from the bed. Hadn’t she realized what was happening between them? There was no escape. There was—

Blood, on the sheets. Her blood.

From a wound that she’d received at the ranch? But, no, she hadn’t been bleeding by the time they’d gotten to the cabin. Her healing ability had kicked in.

His fingers clenched around the sheets as he remembered the slick, incredibly tight feel of her.

Mine.

His breath came harder and the sheets—burned in his hands. Ashes drifted to the wooden floor.

“You’re not getting away.”

She could be afraid, she could run, but there would be no escape.

His gaze swept the cabin, making sure they’d left nothing of import behind. Then, just to be safe, because he didn’t want any others following them, he let his flames take the old cabin. He walked out as the crackling fire rose up the walls.

There was no other motorcycle. No other transportation. He’d have to run up to the main road, then hitchhike. Dante knew that he didn’t look like the kind of guy most folks would want to pick up.

People just didn’t jump at the chance to give the devil a ride.

No matter. He would make someone pick him up. He had to stop Cassie before she reached Mississippi.