A week ago she would have already been in her cramped apartment tucked into her cramped bed.
She wouldn't have known about all the bad things that went bump in the night, or feared that she was about to become a roasted sacrifice for some nasty deity.
Her gaze slid upward to linger upon the tense, perfect profile of the vampire next to her.
Her heart gave a sudden jolt. She might have been safely tucked in her bed, but she would have been alone. And miserable.
Whatever happened, no matter how many beasts and demons and witches crossed her path, she would not regret the events that had led to this moment. Having Dante near her was worth any cost.
Even as the knowledge settled deep inside Abby, Dante stirred with a restless motion, and she sensed a surge of frustration ripple through him.
Her hand reached out to touch his arm.
"What do you sense?"
'The demon is near."
"How near?"
He flashed a wry smile. "Abby, I'm not a GPS. I can only say that she is close."
'Then the witches must be close."
'Yes."
Abby felt faintly nauseous. A sensation that was triggered each time she thought of the women who she had seen in her dream.
Women who would hold her life, as well as that of Dante, in their hands.
"Do we start searching houses?"
Dante angled his head and sniffed the air. She didn't know what he could smell, but he gave a sharp shake of his head.
"I don't want to blunder in blindly. I prefer to have some idea of what we're going to be facing."
"I could—"
"No."
Abby stiffened at his sharp tone. It wasn't that she particularly wanted to creep through the dark alone. Hell, she'd rather shove a fork in her eye. But she didn't take commands well. Never had, never would.
"Well, I'm not standing here in the dark all night," she informed him sharply. "I'm tired, I'm hungry, and my mood is taking a turn toward pissy."
He cocked a brow. "I'd say the turn has already been made."
"Dante."
His arm fell across her shoulders. "There is more than one means of discovering the witches."
"And they would be?"
He led her from the quiet back street toward the bustling thoroughfare just a block away.
"Trust me."
She rolled her eyes at the familiar words. "Can't you at least tell me where we're going?"
'You will see."
He turned the corner, and they walked past elegant restaurants with their discreet awnings and closed shops that didn't put price tags on their items.
The sort of neighborhood where women like her were followed by store security.
She wrinkled her nose as she found herself being relentlessly towed toward a sidewalk coffee shop that was still bustling with preps and corporate executives.
"I'm starting to rethink this whole mate thing."
"Really, lover, you should have more faith in me."
"I do, it's just…"
'Just what?"
Abby came to a sudden halt to meet his gaze squarely.
"I'm afraid," she abruptly admitted.
His arm pulled her close, his lips feathering over the top of her head.
"I won't let anything happen to you, Abby. You have my promise."
"But what of you?"
"I'm fairly fond of me as well. I intend to take great care."
She pulled back with a frown. "We don't know what the witches will do."
'They will discover a new Chalice, and you will be free of the Phoenix."
"And you will be the guardian for a new woman."
His expression eased. "Ah… you're jealous."
"Maybe a little."
His fingers cupped her chin. "You are my mate. Even if I wanted to be with another woman, I couldn't."
"But I will be mortal again."
"Those are worries for later. For now we must concentrate upon ridding you of the Phoenix. Until we do, you will be in danger." His lips lingered a moment on her forehead before he was once again pulling her down the street, pausing before the large window of the bustling shop. 'This should do."
She glanced over the customers, who were all thinner, richer, and prettier than her.
"What is this place?"
"A coffee shop."
"I can see that. Why are we here?"
"Because of that."
He pointed to a spot directly over the window. For a moment Abby could see nothing but the red bricks that made up the building. Then as the clouds shifted, she could make out the strange hieroglyphics that glowed in the moonlight.
"Graffiti?"
"It's a symbol that the owner is… nonhuman."
His arm lowered to point toward the window where a tall man weaved between the tables. Abby's eyes widened. Yowza.
She had never seen anything like him. Large and muscular with the build a professional wrestler would have envied, he was attired in a loose, green, sequined shirt and leopard-print pants that appeared to have been spray painted on him. Even more eye-catching was the long, brilliant red hair that flowed down his back like a river of fire.
He was an exotic butterfly who oozed a sensuality that was nearly palpable in the air.
"Let me guess. E. T.?" she husked.
Dante grimaced. "Imp."
It wouldn't have been her first guess. Or hundredth.
"Isn't he kinda big for an imp?" she demanded, frowning as he passed out of sight and then without warning popped into the air directly before her.
"Not just an imp, I am a prince among imps," he corrected in rich tones, performing an elaborate bow. "Troy, at your service, and, sweet pea, big is most definitely better." He ran a hand down his stomach and then cupped himself with a seductive smile. "Of course, I don't expect you to take my word for it. I'm quite willing to display my goods if you want. I have the most darling room upstairs where you can taste my wares in private."
"That won't be necessary." Dante's voice sliced through the air with all the warmth of a snowball in Antarctica.
Turning about, the imp surveyed Dante with open appreciation. Obviously he was an imp with a varying range of taste.
"Well, hellooooooo. Preindustrial meat—-just how I like it."
"Can we speak?"
The imp stepped closer with a lick of his lips. "I have better things we could be doing."
Dante didn't so much as blink. "This is important"
"Nummy." Running a hand down Dante's arm, the imp leaned forward to give him a deep sniff. Suddenly the creature stiffened, and, pulling back, he offered them both an offended glare. 'You've mated. Go away."