“Then you saved me,” she said stubbornly. “Because your tears—”

“I did not cry for you.”

She spun away from him. She wasn’t about to put on that damn exam gown so she started yanking open closets and drawers and—

“I . . . got you clothing. I wanted you to have everything you might need. It’s there.” He pointed to a bag near the old table.

She grabbed for the bag and hurriedly dressed. Jeans. Underwear. T-shirt. Even shoes. All a perfect fit.

“You remembered everything.” She knew he truly had. Once dressed, she turned toward him. “So why are you acting like you don’t remember what happened in New Orleans?” Why was he trying to rip her world away? “You had to save me. I’d be dead if you hadn’t—”

“I thought you were dying.” He was still naked. Damn it. The guy didn’t even seem aware of his nudity. She was aware of everything about him.

“You were in my arms, and your blood was all over me. You were staring up at me, trying to talk, but you were too far gone.”

Goosebumps had risen on her flesh. “That’s when you saved me.”

He shook his head.

She grabbed his arms. “Why are you lying to me?” He’d never lied to her before. “Sabine didn’t save me. I know the wounds I had—would have killed me. The only way I could have survived was if a phoenix saved me.” Cassie wanted to shake him. “Why can’t you just admit that you actually care enough about me that you cried? After everything we’ve been through together, the feelings aren’t just mine. You have to—”

“I did not cry.”

Her heart was breaking.

Dante spoke softly. “You . . . healed yourself.”

Her nails dug into his arms, then she was pushing away from him. “That’s not possible.”

He laughed, and the sound was rough and bitter. “You’re talking to a myth, and you want to tell me about possible?”

Cassie wrapped her arms around herself. They’d made love. He’d held her through her fear.

I did not cry.

If he hadn’t saved her, if he hadn’t shed a tear to spare her life in those last desperate moments, then what did that mean for them?

He doesn’t care. The cold seemed to deepen around her. His fire had never been farther away.

“Your father experimented on you. The first time we met”—Dante’s eyes seemed to cloud with the memory—“you were only eight. And you told me . . . you told me that he’d killed you.”

She didn’t want to think about that memory. She’d shoved it so far back into her mind.

“He’d killed you, but you were there, walking around, talking, trying to save me.”

“I was a child, confused—”

“You were an experiment.” The faint lines deepened around Dante’s eyes. “Just like the rest of us. Your father made your blood into poison, but he did something else, too. He gave your body the ability to regenerate. To heal.”

“I was dying in New Orleans.” Choking on her own blood. Her last memory had been of his face, then . . . darkness. When she’d opened her eyes again, he’d been gone.

I was alive. She’d been so sure her survival had been because of him.

“Your heart stopped. You did die, but you came back.” His body was so still. “Not the way I do. There were no flames and no tears. You returned on your own. Your skin mended before my eyes, and then you took your first breath once more.”

Her world was splintering apart. If Dante hadn’t saved her—

Then he doesn’t love me.

And she . . . was truly nothing more than an experiment.

“That was why Jon came after me,” she said, voice weak.

“He must have found some files . . . something that told him what I could do.” He’d wanted to replicate her healing, not just her poison.

A body that could survive anything, minus the trip to hell that the phoenixes took with each of their risings.

An experiment.

Nausea rolled in her stomach.

“Cassie—”

“I-I need a moment. I need—” what he can’t give me. What he’d never be able to give. If he’d just watched her die and felt nothing . . . She’d been so sure that her future was tied with Dante. That when his memory came back, he’d realize they were linked.

But he didn’t care.

And she . . . Cassie didn’t even know what she was anymore.

He didn’t stop her as she hurried into the bathroom. Didn’t stop her as she slammed the door and clutched desperately for the bathroom sink so that she wouldn’t fall to the floor.