“I mean that if you had kept that beautiful nose out of matters that are none of your business, we both could have gone upon our merry way. Now, because of your Florence Nightingale act, where you go, what you do, what you bloody well think is now very much my business.”
What the hell was he talking about? Unconsciously her wide gaze skimmed over the perfect alabaster features. The last thing she needed was more trouble.
“You’re insane. Let me go or—”
“Or what?” he demanded in silky tones.
Good question. A pity she didn’t have a brilliant answer.
“I . . . I’ll scream.”
The dark brows lifted in sardonic amusement. “And do you truly want to discover just what sort of hero is going to rush to your rescue in this place? Who do you think it will be? The local crackheads? The whores working the lobby? You know, I’d place my money on the drunk next door. There was a definite hint of rape in the air when I carried you past him in the hall.”
Suddenly Abby understood the cramped room, the vile smells, and the echoes of despair. Dante had taken her to one of the endless seedy hotels that catered to the poor and desperate.
She might have shivered in disgust if it hadn’t been the least of her worries.
“They couldn’t be any worse than you.”
He stiffened at her accusation, his expression guarded. “Rather harsh words for the man who might very well have saved your life.”
“Man? Is that what you are?”
“What did you say?”
His fingers dug into her shoulders, and belatedly Abby realized that confronting Dante directly might not have been the wisest decision.
Still, she had to know. Ignorance might be bliss, but it was also freaking dangerous.
“You . . . I saw you. In the dream.” She shivered as the memories burned through her mind. “You were chained, and they were chanting and your . . . your fangs—”
“Abby.” He gazed deep into her eyes. “Sit down and I’ll explain.”
“No.” She gave a frantic shake of her head. “What are you going to do to me?”
His lips twisted at her shrill tone. “Although several enticing ideas have passed through my mind upon various occasions, for the moment I plan nothing more than talking with you. Will you calm down long enough to listen?”
The very fact that he hadn’t laughed and told her that she had lost her mind only deepened Abby’s terror. He knew of the dream. He recognized it.
Allowing instinct to take over, Abby forced herself to pretend a resignation she far from felt.
“Do I have a choice?”
He shrugged. “Not really.”
“Very well.”
Weakly following his lead toward the bed, Abby waited until Dante was convinced of his victory before reaching out to push him sharply away. Caught off guard, he stumbled, and in the blink of an eye, she was bolting toward the door.
She was fast. Growing up with five older brothers ensured she was well practiced in running from a potential massacre. But shockingly she had taken only a few steps when Dante’s arms were wrapping about her and lifting her off her feet.
With a muffled scream, she reached her arms over her head and grasped two handfuls of his silky hair. He gave a low grunt as she gave a violent tug. Still keeping grasp of his hair with one hand, she shifted the other to dig her nails into the side of his face.
“Dammit, Abby,” he muttered, his grip loosening as he sought to ward off her attack.
Not pausing for a moment, Abby wriggled free and, turning, she aimed a kick that over the years had proven to bring even the largest of men to a screeching halt. Dante gasped as he doubled over in pain. Not pausing to admire her handiwork, Abby lunged for the door.
On this occasion, she managed to actually touch the knob before she was roughly hauled up and over a broad shoulder and carried back to the bed. She screamed again as Dante easily tossed her onto the foul mattress, and then followed her downward to cover her struggling form with one much larger, and much harder.
More frightened than she had ever been in her life, Abby gazed into the pale face with its unearthly beauty. She was sharply, disturbingly aware of his lean muscles pressing against her. And the knowledge that he held her completely at his mercy.
Uncertain what was about to happen, she was startled when a slow smile curved his lips.
“You possess powerful weapons for such a tiny thing, lover,” he murmured. “Have you practiced those rather nasty tricks often?”
Somehow his teasing managed to ease a portion of her rabid terror. Surely if he were going to suck her dry, he wouldn’t be indulging in conversation?
Unless of course vampires preferred a bit of predinner chat?
“I have five older brothers,” she gritted.
“Ah, that would explain it. Survival of the fittest, or in this case, survival of the one with the dirtiest arsenal.”
“Get off me.”
He gave a lift of his brows. “And risk becoming a eunuch? No, thanks. We’ll finish our discussion without anymore scratching, hair pulling, or low blows.”
She glared into his mocking expression. “We have nothing to discuss.”
“Oh no,” he drawled, “nothing beyond the fact your employer was just barbequed to a crisp, the fact that I’m a vampire, and the fact that thanks to your stupidity, you now have every demon in the vicinity after your head. Nothing at all to discuss.”
Barbequed employers, vampires, and now demons? It was too much. Way, way too much.
Abby closed her eyes as her heart squeezed with horror.
“This is a nightmare. Dear God, please let Freddy Krueger walk through the door.”
“This is no nightmare, Abby.”
“It’s not possible.” She reluctantly lifted her lids to meet the glittering silver gaze. “You’re a vampire?”
He grimaced. “My heritage is the least of your concerns at the moment.”
Heritage? She swallowed a hysterical urge to laugh.
“Did Selena know?”
“That I was a vampire? Oh yes, she knew.” His tone was dry. “In fact, you could say that it was a prerequisite to my employment.”
Abby frowned. “Then she was a vampire too?”
“No.” Dante paused as if carefully considering his words. Ridiculous since he could have informed her that Selena was Beelzebub and she couldn’t have twitched a muscle as long as he held her in his relentless grip. “She was . . . a Chalice.”
“Chalice?” Her blood ran cold. The woman screaming in agony. The crimson flames. “The Phoenix,” she breathed.
His brows drew together in shock. “How did you know that?”
“The dream. I was in a dungeon, and there was a woman lying on the floor. I think the other women were performing some ritual upon her.”
“Selena,” he muttered. “She must have passed a portion of her memories onto you. That’s the only explanation.”
“Passed on memories? But that’s . . .” Her words trailed away as a mocking smile curved his lips.
“Impossible? Don’t you think we’re beyond that by now?”
They were, of course. She had tumbled into some bizarro world where anything was possible. Like Alice in the Looking Glass.
Only instead of disappearing cats and white rabbits, there were vampires and mysterious Chalices and who knew what else.
“What did they do to her?”
“They made her a Chalice. A human vessel for a powerful entity.”
“So those women were witches?”
“For lack of a better term.”
Great. Just great. “And they put a spell upon Selena?”
The silver eyes shimmered in the shadowed light. “It was rather more than a spell. They called forth the spirit of the Phoenix to live within her body.”
Abby could almost feel the crimson flames that had seared into the woman’s flesh. She shivered in horror. “No wonder she was screaming. What does this Phoenix do?�
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“It is a . . . barrier.”
She eyed him warily. “A barrier against what?”
“Against the darkness.”
Well, that made everything as clear as mud. Impatiently Abby wriggled beneath the man pinning her to the bed.
A bad, very bad move.
As if a lightning bolt had suddenly struck her, she was vibrantly aware of his hard body branding her own. A body that had haunted her dreams more than a few nights.
Dante’s jaw tightened at her unwittingly provocative movements, his hips instinctively shifting in response.
“Do you think you could possibly be a little more vague?” she managed to choke out.
“What would you have me say?” he demanded in rasping tones.
She struggled to keep her thoughts focused. Good God. Now was no time to be thinking of . . . of . . . that.
“Something a bit more clarifying than the darkness.”
There was a moment of silence, as if he were waging his own battle. Then at last he met her gaze squarely.
“Very well. The demon world refers to the darkness as the Prince, but in truth it isn’t a real being. It is more a . . . spirit, just as the Phoenix is a spirit. An essence of power that demons call upon to enhance their dark skills.”
“And the Phoenix does something to this Prince?”
“Her presence among mortals has banished the Prince from this world. They are two opposites. Neither can be in the same plane at the same moment. Not without both being destroyed.”
Well, that seemed like a good thing. The first ray of hope in a very bleak day.
“So, no more demons?”
He gave a lift of his shoulder. “They remain, but without the tangible presence of the Prince, they are weakened and chaotic. No longer do they band together to attack in strength, and rarely do they hunt humans. They have been forced into the shadows.”
“That’s good, I suppose,” she said slowly. “And Selena was this barrier?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He blinked at the abrupt question. “Why?”
“Why was she chosen?” Abby clarified, not quite certain why she even cared. She only knew that at the moment it seemed important. “Was she a witch?”
Oddly Dante paused, almost as if he were considering not answering her question. Ridiculous after all he had already revealed. What could be worse than the fact that she was being held captive by a vampire? Or that the one person who kept away all the scary, bad things in the night was now dead?
“She was not so much chosen as offered as a sacrifice by her father,” he at last grudgingly confessed.
“She was sacrificed by her father?” Abby gave a startled blink. Hell, she had always thought her father was a shoo-in for scumbag of the year. He had been a brutal jerk whose only redeeming act had been tossing aside his family for a bottle of whiskey. Still, he hadn’t offered her up as fodder to a band of crazed witches. “How could he do such a thing?”
The elegant features hardened with ancient anger. “Quite easily. He was powerful, rich, and accustomed to having his way in all things. Or he was until he was struck down with the plague. In exchange for a cure, he gave the witches his only daughter.”
“Holy crap. That’s horrible.”
“I suppose he thought it a fair trade-off. He was cured and his daughter made immortal.”
“Immortal?” Abby caught in breath with sudden hope. “Then Selena is still alive?”
The beautiful features sharpened even further. “No, she is very much dead.”
“But . . . how?”
“I don’t know.” His tone was rough with coiled emotions. “At least not yet.”
Abby bit her bottom lip, attempting to wrap her aching brain around the consequences of such a death.
“Then the Phoenix is gone?”
“No, it is not gone. It is—” Without warning, Dante flowed to his feet, his head turning toward the closed door. A tense silence filled the room before he at last returned his gaze to her startled face. “Abby, we must go. Now.”
Chapter 3
Dante fiercely cursed his stupidity.
For 341 years he had stood as guardian to the Phoenix. Not willingly, and not without a simmering fury at his fate, but with absolute dedication. It was not as if he had a choice. Those witches had seen to that.
But now, when the danger was at its greatest, he discovered himself barely capable of concentrating upon the threat very much at hand.
He impatiently shoved back his tangled hair. Bloody hell, there was little wonder he was distracted. In the past few hours, he had endured more shocks than he had in centuries. The death of the immortal Selena. The fierce, intoxicating joy as he felt the chains begin to loosen. And the horror of watching the Phoenix being branded into Abby.
Abby.
Double bloody hell. He glared down at her slender form. The woman had been a plague and pestilence since she arrived at Selena’s estate. With her skin as soft as satin. Her honey curls that haloed her gamine face. Her vulnerable eyes. And the hot passions that smoldered just beneath her screw-the-world attitude. It called to him like the song of a Siren. A tasty morsel that he had had every intention of consuming at his leisure.
But now everything had changed. Now she was no longer a lovely diversion. No longer a bit of sport. She was his to protect. And he would do so until his very death.
“Come,” he commanded in soft tones, summoning his ancient instincts. “Something approaches.”
Struggling to her feet, she eyed him warily. “What?”
He grasped her arm in a firm grip. “Demons.” He reached out with his senses, touching the approaching darkness. “And more than one.”
Her face paled, but with that inner strength he had always admired, she didn’t faint or scream or do all those annoying things that mortals were so prone to do when faced with the mystic.
“But they surely won’t trouble us. We don’t have anything they could want.”
His lips twisted. “You’re wrong, lover. We possess a treasure beyond all dreams.”
“What—”
“I’m afraid the twenty questions will have to wait until later, Abby.”
Pulling her close to his side, he silently crossed toward the nearly hidden door next to the bed. Reaching out, he turned the knob and thrust it open. Wood splintered as the dead bolt was ripped from the frame. Still holding Abby close, he tugged her through the shadows of the adjoining room, barely giving a glance toward the drunk who snored in vodka oblivion upon his bed.
Dante moved directly to the narrow window. Forcing it open, he turned to lean close to Abby’s ear. “Stay close to me and don’t make a sound,” he whispered. “If we are attacked, I want you to stay behind me and don’t run. They will be attempting to frighten you into a trap.”
“But I want to know why—”
“Not now, Abby,” he growled impatiently. “If we’re going to get out of here alive, I need you to trust me. Can you do that?”
There was a moment of silence. In the gloom, Dante could sense the fragility of her control. She was near shattering, and he could only hope that her impending collapse could be held off long enough to get to safety.
At last she swallowed heavily and gave a grudging nod of her head. “Yes.”
He gazed deep into her eyes, startled by the stir of something that might have been warmth.
“Then let’s go.”
Taking her hand, he helped her climb through the narrow window, waiting until she was standing upon the metal fire escape before following her into the darkness. He paused just a moment, peering down at the littered alley below. His instincts warned that demons lurked nearby. Unfortunately, to remain would mean being trapped and surrounded. They had no choice but to go forward.
Or in this case, down.
Grimly Dante gave a tilt of his head toward the nearby ladder. With reluctant steps, Abby moved across the platform and forced herself to climb down the rungs.
He waited until she had reached the bottom before stepping off the edge and landing next to her shivering form.
As she opened her lips to speak, he reached out to press a finger to her mouth, giving a sharp shake of his head. Danger prickled over his skin. Something was near. Very near. Turning toward a large Dumpster, he took a slow step forward.
“Show yourself,” he commanded.
There was a rustle in the shadows followed by a sharp scrape of claws upon the pavement before a large, hulking form slowly appeared. At first glance, it would be simple to dismiss the intruder as an awkward, brainless beast. With thick, leathery skin, seeping boils, and a misshapen head that sported three eyes, he was the poster child for the monster beneath the bed. But Dante was all too familiar with this particular demon and knew that beneath all the ugly was a cunning intelligence that was more deadly than any muscle.
“Halford.” Dante offered a mocking bow.
“Ah, Dante.” The deep, rumbling voice possessed a polished, elegant accent that would have been right at home in a posh boarding school. A ludicrous contrast to his brutish appearance. “I just knew you would be dropping in once you caught whiff of those hellhounds. I’ve tried for centuries to train them with a bit of discretion, but they must always rush in when stealth would serve best.”
Ensuring that he stood squarely between Abby and the demon, Dante offered a faint shrug.
“Hellhounds have never been renowned for their intelligence.”
“No. A pity, really. Still, they do have their uses. Such as flushing out prey so that I needn’t muck about in such filth.” Halford cast a disdainful glance toward the dilapidated hotel. “I must say, Dante, I had always believed you to possess better taste.”
“What better place to hide from the scum than beneath their very noses?”
Halford loosed a rumbling laugh that echoed eerily down the alley. “A clever ploy except for the fact that every brother in the city can smell your beauty from a mile away. I fear there’s no hiding.”
Dante silently cursed. Although Abby carried the Phoenix, she had not yet fully acquired its powers or any knowledge of how to control those powers. Until she did, she would be a beacon to every demon in the area.
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