His brows drew together as he silently attempted to piece together his fractured thoughts.
'The spell," he at last breathed. "It was ripping me apart."
Abby grimaced. "I'm sorry. I didn't know what I was doing."
A faint smile touched his lips. "It doesn't matter. We need to get somewhere safe until I can recover my strength."
Abby was all for that. Especially when that strange woman might pop out of the woodwork at any moment. A story for Dante when he wasn't lying near death from her stupid attempt at abracadabra.
"Can you move?"
He closed his eyes to assess his injuries, "If you can help me to my feet."
Abby bit her lip as she slipped a hand beneath his shoulder and helped him struggle upright. If Dante actually lowered his testosterone enough to ask for help, it had to be bad.
He swayed heavily against her, and Abby battled to keep him upright.
"We'll never make it to the car," she said. "We should call Viper."
"No. If you can help me down to the basement, I can recover In my lair."
Abby gave a blink of surprise as she automatically led him toward the nearby servant's staircase.
"You have a lair?"
"Of course. A vampire needs more than tinted windows and a soft bed to feel comfortable."
"Oh." Abby felt incredibly stupid. Until this moment, she had never considered the fact that Dante had walked freely about the house during the day.
Reaching the stairs, she helped him grasp the railing and together they began the downward trek.
"Oh, what?" he demanded, his jaw locked to combat his obvious pain.
"I just realized that when I worked here, you were always awake during the day. The tinted windows protected you?"
He managed a strained smile. "As long as I didn't stand directly in front of the window."
Breathing hard, she pressed her hand to his chest to make sure he didn't tumble forward.
"Aren't vampires creatures of the night?"
"As a rule."
"But you prefer the day?"
"Let us that I possessed an irresistible desire to alter my habits."
Abby recalled their employer's demanding nature. The woman had been a despot when it came to her own comfort.
"I suppose Selena demanded you be available for her?"
"Whatever her demands, Selena was never capable of forcing me to pander to her preference for day." His tone was arrogant as he shot her a glance from the corner of his eye. "Only one woman has ever managed that, lover."
Her eyes widened as a blush touched her cheeks. "Oh."
Despite the odd weakness that still clutched at his body, Dante found a smile curving his lips as Abby helped him to the deep basement. He reached out to press the hidden lever to his lair.
He had always delighted in bringing a hint of color to Abby's cheeks. For all she had endured in her life, and she had endured more than any woman should have to, she still managed to be enchantingly innocent.
The paneling swung inward to reveal the room he had called home since coming to Chicago. Switching on the light, he waited for Abby to step within before shutting the door and setting the invisible traps that should keep them safe for the moment.
"Don't touch the door," he warned Abby as he moved to the refrigerator and collected a bottle of blood. "I added a few surprises for anyone foolish enough to disturb me while I slept."
Wisely Abby backed away from the heavy steel door. "What sort of surprises?"
"Enough electricity to halt your heart, a poisoned dart that will turn your insides to mush, a curse that will shrivel a man's private jewels to—"
"Okay, that falls under the category of way too much information," she interrupted before her eyes abruptly widened. "Good God. What if I had accidentally stumbled across this door? I would have been fried or mushed or shriveled."
Taking a deep drink of the blood, Dante was relieved to find his strength swiftly returning. Whatever had happened to him at least was not permanent.
"Maybe mushed or fried." He cast a pointed glance below her waist. 'You don't have the proper equipment to be shriveled."
"I'm serious." She planted her hands on her hips. "I could have been killed."
His lips twitched. He wasn't about to confess that he had been vividly aware of her presence in the house even during his deepest sleep. That there was not a step that she had taken that he hadn't followed. She could not possibly have come near his lair without his awareness.
It smacked too closely of obsession.
"You were living with a powerful Chalice and a vampire, lover. My private door was the least of your concerns."
Her lips twitched with grudging humor. "Are you feeling better?"
'Yes. Whatever happened seems to be fading."
"Thank God."
'Yes."
There was a moment of silence before curiosity at last overcame good manners, and Abby was covertly casting glances about his secret lair.
Dante drained the last of the blood as he watched her expressive features.
The room had little in common with the pretentious mansion. Unlike Selena, he preferred the elegant to the gaudy. The bed was wide but built of plain mahogany with a gold and black comforter to match the carpeting. The furnishings were sturdy and the walls nearly hidden by the heavy shelves that were filled from floor to ceiling with Ms collection of rare books.
Giving a faint shake of her head, Abby moved to his desk to touch his state-of-the-art laptop and printer.
Dante polished off another bottle of blood, his lips twitching. "Is something the matter?"
"It's not quite what I was expecting."
'You were hoping for dusty skeletons and bats?"
She turned to face him with a faint smile. "It seems more fitting for a college professor than a dangerous vampire."
Setting aside the bottle, Dante prowled toward the slender woman. "Are you implying that I'm dull?"
Sensing the sudden heat in the air, she eyed him warily. "Dante, we should be deciding what we are to do next."
She was right, of course.
Once again his brilliant notion had led to nothing more than nearly getting them killed. And the witches remained as elusive as ever.
Even worse, he was now completely out of ideas as to how to trace the coven.
But his thoughts refused to remain focused on the problems at hand.
How many nights had he lain sleepless in that bed tormented with fantasies of Abby? How often had he battled against the ache to lure her to his side?
She may never have stepped foot in this lair, but her presence haunted every inch of it.