Page 25 of Dark Reign of Forever

Cassidy threw up both hands. “Oh my God, Jackson, go. Meet your plane and go to Europe. Do what you have to, but don’t do it here.”

“You’re not serious.”

“I am. Very.” She touched Dominique’s forearm where it lay on the table. The familiar tendons twitched beneath her fingers. “We’ll be okay on our own. We always have been.”

“He’s not in his right mind. What if he pulls another stunt like last time?”

“He won’t.” Not without Jackson around to provoke him.

“I can’t let you—”

Samantha pushed her chair back and stood. “She’ll be fine. C’mon, Jack. I have a class to get ready for and Garrett is waiting for you.”

Jackson met Dominique’s glower with his own for several more seconds. Finally, he shook his head, disgusted. “I don’t know why I give a shit. I really don’t.”

Dominique inclined his head, making a wave of ebony hair—still dusted with powdered sugar—fall across his forehead, and blew him a kiss.

“Fuck off. Cass, you’re on your own.” He turned to go, turned back. “If you know what’s good for both of you, lose that other shot before sundown.” The front door slammed behind him moments later.

His half-sister broke the awkward silence by thanking Dominique and Cassidy for breakfast. “I’ll be home this afternoon if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Sam.”

After Samantha retreated out the kitchen door, Cassidy slumped back in her chair. Dominique regarded her curiously. “We are always okay,chère?”

“Always,” she said without hesitation and met his warm human gaze. A stranger stared back. “We’ve been through far worse than a little amnesia.”

He flashed her a seductive smile. His voice purred in a way that would have sent shivers down her spine if not for the words. “So you are—what is it—the ‘good cop?’”

“No. I’m—”your lover, your partner, your friend, your reason for being, your tether to humanity, to life, the other half of your soul.She swallowed it all down into her sore heart—“here for you.”

“Truly? Then please help me return to my home.”

Cassidy rubbed her right temple against the pressure building there and opened her mouth to explain, to argue, but couldn’t. She couldn’t give him facts that didn’t fit with what he believed, no matter how benign. He wouldn’t trust them, maybe not even hear them. Just like he wasn’t seeing the clues all around him—the speed with which his injuries healed, the unnatural paleness of his skin, the hard edges to his inhumanly beautiful face, even the fact that he hadn’t used a toilet that entire first day. He questioned none of this because he already knew the answers.

And he didn’t want to.

Cassidy reached out and wrapped her fingers around his unresponsive hand. “All right, Dominique. If you want to go home…I’ll take you home.”

11

Coming Home

TheonlythingCassidydared not do today was let Dominique out of her sight. The amount of damage and grief he could cause with a single international phone call was incalculable.

Which is why she escorted him to his closet and watched him take in the mostly empty miles of Cherrywood shelving and stacks of drawers. A handful of T-shirts and gym pants, plus some dress shirts and jeans, and a grand total of three pairs of shoes were the entirety of his wardrobe. That and the black leathers and silver-buckled boots waiting in a far corner. He studied this last but made no comment before turning away, ignoring the outfit and the blood-soaked history it represented.

“They all fit. They’re all yours,” Cassidy said, giving no hint about what he might select.

He pulled off the T-shirt and dropped his gym pant bottoms, affording her a glimpse of the bare assets with which she was so familiar, but which were oddly new in the light of day. He arched a sweeping brow at her. “Underwear?”

“Hmm? Oh. Right. That drawer.” She pointed. A minute later, he was packaged in briefs, a pair of jeans and fresh shirt, and stuffed his bare feet into the sneakers. She tossed the leather jacket at him and gestured for him to follow her.

Though she didn’t spend much time there most nights, Cassidy maintained her own suite in the house, a place that was distinctly her own, and her walk-in closet was far better stocked than his. While she eyed the tidy collection of colors and styles, she shed her tunic and shorts without thinking.

A soft groan sounded behind her. Dominique stood with one shoulder leaning against the frame of the closet door, arms crossed, a slow smile curving his sensual mouth.

Oh, right. This version of him would be a stranger to her body. The thought made her skin tingle.

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