“That’s the myth . . .”

She was adamant. “That’s not me.”

“Humans only know part of the sirens’ story.” His hand lifted, brushed back her hair. “In truth, there were so many ways for them to lure in the men they wanted. Except sirens weren’t interested in mortal men.”

Her heart was going to burst out of her chest.

“They wanted paranormals—because sirens craved power. Magic.”

How many times was she going to have to say it? “I am not—”

“Vampires are lured to you by the sweet scent of your blood. It’s different from anything else they’ve ever experienced. They can scent the poison, too, but your blood is too strong for them to resist.”

Cassie put her hands on his chest. “My father made my blood that way. A lure and a poison.”

“He made it poison. Nature made it a lure.”

Her breath rushed out.

“Werewolves will be drawn by your voice. It soothes their beast. That’s why the one called Trace is calmer when you’re near. I realized that when I watched you with him. He hasn’t attacked you yet because your voice puts his beast at ease.”

“Sirens sing, I don’t—”

“The lure is different for every paranormal. I know what you are. I’ve met your kind before.”

She had a kind?

“The magic isn’t as strong in you, probably because of the brews that your father gave you, but it’s there. I’ve known it from the time you were eight years old.”

Her world was spinning. He was solid beneath her hand. “Then why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you wouldn’t have believed me.”

“My mother—”

“She probably tried to get away from your father. But the thing is . . . once a man has a siren, he becomes obsessed with her.”

A chill skated down Cassie’s spine. Dante’s dark eyes were so intense, so focused on her.

“Once they mate, the siren can walk away, the ties won’t bind her, but her prey . . . is trapped. The only way he can escape her hold is death.”

Cassie didn’t like what he was saying. Didn’t want to hear another word.

I’m no siren. I’m Cassie Armstrong. I’m a doctor. I’m twenty-nine. I’m—

“Don’t you want to know how you lure me to you?”

No. “Yes.” Soft, scared. She would not be scared.

Hell, she was so scared.

“Part of it is your scent.” He inhaled deeply, and his fingers tunneled in her hair, pulling her close to him. “Shifters can usually catch a siren’s scent, even if they don’t necessarily realize what that scent means.”

“But you know what it means . . .”

“I’ve dealt with sirens before.”

It didn’t sound like he’d dealt with them in a positive way.

He bent his head and his lips pressed against her throat. Her heartbeat spiked.

“It’s not just your scent, though,” Dante rasped, “it’s your taste that draws me, too. So sweet and light . . . tempting me to gobble you up.”

He scored her flesh with his teeth.

“I had to be careful. I tried not to kiss you for a long time, but the first time I tasted your lips, the lure was set.”

“You left after our first kiss.” Cassie had kissed him right before she’d killed him at Genesis. Stupidly, desperately, she’d hoped that the kiss would make him remember her.

His head lifted, but her neck tingled, as if she still felt the heat of his mouth. “I thought I could break the link. I tried . . .”

That hurt.

“I couldn’t. You kept pulling me back to you.”

He was wrong. She’d wanted him to be free. “No, I didn’t do anything—”

The gold deep within his eyes began to burn. “Did you dream of me, Cassie?”

She had. So many dreams. But what was wrong with a dream? Cassie nodded.

“A siren can lure through her dreams. The link was between us, and you used it. Every time you dreamed, every time you longed, you sent that longing to me. Made me feel it.”

He sounded almost angry.

But she hadn’t meant to do anything like that. “I’m not a siren.” Her desperate whisper. He was wrong. He had to be.

“A phoenix can’t mate with just anyone. Our fire burns too hot. We’d kill human lovers.” His lips twisted. “I know phoenixes who have—and they couldn’t even take their own lives when the guilt ate at them.”