Well, he had her there, she acknowledged wryly. Not in her wildest fantasies could she have ever imagined such a devilishly handsome man even existed.
"Perhaps," she grudgingly conceded. "But most of my dates don't come complete with packs of demons, monsters, and zombies."
A raven brow arched. "Dull bastards. They obviously don't understand the potent allure of a true adventure."
"Adventure?" Abby swatted at a biting mosquito with a grimace. "An adventure is walking through St. Mark's Square in Venice, or sipping coffee in a charming bistro in Paris. Not wading through a briar patch in search of witches."
"Actually, the last time I attempted to enjoy coffee in Paris, I nearly had my head lopped off by the guillotine," he murmured. "So you see, lover, it's all a matter of perspective."
Abby stumbled at the off-hand confession. "Good Lord, would you stop that?" she complained.
"What?"
"Mentioning the past so casually. I thought I was ancient because I can remember Melrose Place."
He merely laughed. Damn his vampire soul. 'You were the one who brought up the subject of Paris. I was merely offering my own experiences there."
Her gaze swept over the beautiful features bathed in moonlight. "So you were really in Paris during the Reign of Terror?"
"For a few unforgettable months." He smiled ruefully. "I would suggest that you visit when there isn't a revolution in progress."
Abby rolled her eyes. Her in glamorous, sophisticated Paris? Yeah, the same day that she sprouted wings and tattooed her butt.
"I'll keep that in mind when the destined-never-to-be opportunity rolls around," she said dryly.
His eyes smoldered like liquid silver in the shadows. "Who knows what the future might hold, lover? A few days ago you didn't expect to be on the run with a vampire or battling to save the world from evil."
"Actually, it would have seemed a lot more likely than a luxurious vacation in France."
Reaching out, he gave a tug on a curl that had strayed from her braid. 'You're too young to be so cynical."
"I'm realistic, not cynical," she corrected firmly. "Vacations in Paris are not for women who make minimum wage and—" She came to an abrupt halt, her eyes widening in horror. "Holy hell."
A subtle tension prickled around Dante as he swept a searching gaze about them. "What is it?"
"I'm out of a job, and my rent is due."
There was a moment of sharp silence before Dante tilted back his head to offer a very unsympathetic laugh. With a frown, Abby slapped her hands on her hips.
"What's so funny?"
He reached up to grasp her chin with his slender fingers. "You've become a Chalice for a powerful spirit, confronted demons, and are about to place yourself in the hands of witches. Now you're worried about whether or not you can pay the rent?"
Her eyes narrowed at his amusement. "I'm worried about spending my days pushing a shopping cart down the streets and sleeping under a park bench—very real possibilities that are as bad as any demon or witch."
His brows drew together as his fingers strayed to brush over her cheek. 'You think I would allow you to be tossed into the street?"
Something painful clenched in her heart. Soon enough, the witches would remove the spell from her and Dante would be bound to another. Why would he ever give her another thought?
They were the proverbial ships, or in this case vampire and mortal, who passed in the night.
Troubled more than she cared to admit at the thought of being completely alone once again, Abby forced a stiff smile to her lips.
"Well, you did lock you former lover in a cellar."
"Only in self-defense." His fingers tightened on her face, his expression oddly somber. "I have promised that nothing will harm you, Abby. Nothing. It's a promise I intend to keep no matter what the future might hold."
She was forced to swallow the lump lodged in her throat as her hand lifted to cover the fingers upon her cheek. By God, but he knew how to steal a woman's heart.
"Dante," she breathed softly.
A low groan was wrenched from his throat as Dante pressed his forehead to her own.
"Oh, lover, if you have any pity in your heart, you won't look at me like that. At least not now."
A dark sinful heat raced through Abby as she pressed herself next to Dante's hard body. If they weren't standing in a thorn briar, or if demons weren't chasing them, or if there weren't witches lurking nearby, she would have thrown him to the ground and have had her way with him.
Damn but he made her hot and bothered.
Unfortunately, no amount of wishing could change their situation, and with a shuddering sigh, she forced herself to step back.
"We should find the coven," she said with a resigned grimace.
Dante briefly closed his eyes, as if battling for control, before lifting his head and sweeping his gaze over the star-studded sky.
"Yes, dawn will come too soon. Let's get this done."
Chapter 9
The past centuries had taught Dante more than a few lessons.
Never dine upon drunkards. Never turn your back on an angry woman. Never bet on a horse named Lucky. Never wrestle a Chactol demon after a bottle of gin.
And never, never ignore pure instinct.
That last lesson had been the hardest and best learned, which was why he had not directly headed for the coven, although he had managed to catch its scent only a mile from the abandoned factories.
There was something not at all right, he decided as they drew closer. An icy chill prickled over his skin, and the smell of fresh blood filled the air.
A battle had been fought nearby. A battle that had involved powerful magic and undeniable slaughter.
Skirting the trees that hid the coven from view, Dante attempted to determine the danger ahead. He could sense no demons, but he was no longer certain that it was the creatures of the night who posed the greatest threat.
And that, of course, was what troubled him the most.
Devil spit.
He didn't like the feeling that he was being led by the nose by this unseen enemy. And yet, what choice did he have but to go forward?
He had to find the witches.
Even if it killed him.
A thought that pissed him off royally.
Glancing over his shoulder, he watched as Abby struggled to free her shirt from a clinging thorn bush. A faint smile twitched at his lips. She truly was the most unusual of creatures. As rare and precious as the finest jewel.
As if sensing his gaze, she abruptly jerked her head up to glare at him with that glorious annoyance that she seemed to reserve solely for him.