A Vampire Bundle: The Real Werewives of Vampire County, When Darkness Comes, Real Vamps Don't Drink O-Neg, & Hunted by the Others

by Alexandra Ivy

  Dante flinched. “Abby.”

  She sucked in a sharp breath, clearly regretting her brief moment of vulnerability.

  “What else?”

  “You will always be hunted,” he retorted starkly, thrusting aside the urge to offer her comfort. He had to make her see sense. “Every moment, some evil will be plotting your death.”

  She turned in her seat to regard him squarely. “But you said that the Phoenix is beginning to disguise itself.”

  “It is, but there are always those with enough power or desperation to track you down. That was why I was chained to the spirit as protection.”

  He could feel her gaze sweeping over his rigid profile.

  “Then you can protect me.”

  Dante stiffened, his skin prickling with a sudden wave of self-disgust.

  “Like I protected Selena?” he growled.

  “Dante, you can’t blame yourself—”

  “It is not a matter of blame; it is a matter of knowledge,” he retorted in black tones. “Bloody hell, I don’t even know what killed her. Which means the sooner I get you to the witches, the better.”

  “Dante—”

  “No.” He turned his head to stab her with a fierce glare. “We must do this for the Phoenix, Abby. It must be protected by those who are best suited to keep it from harm.”

  Neatly outmaneuvered, Abby offered a frustrated scowl before throwing herself back into the soft leather of her seat.

  “You don’t fight entirely fair, you know.”

  His lips twisted with wry humor. “A vampire, sweetness, never fights fair. We only fight to win.”

  Nearly an hour later, Abby gamely battled her way through the weeds that had taken command of the fields about the industrial park.

  Weeds and obnoxious, nuclear-mutant thorn bushes, she discovered as she halted for the hundredth time to salvage her jeans from destruction. Hell, she had never liked nature. It was dirty and filled with crawly creatures and things that made her sneeze. And this little jaunt wasn’t making her any fonder. Why the witches couldn’t have set up shop in the local mall defied her imagination.

  Of course, the weeds and thorns were only a small part of her current discomfort, she ruefully conceded. The knots twisting her stomach and the dryness of her mouth was entirely due to the witches that they currently sought.

  Dante was adamant that it was their only option, but she was not nearly so convinced. Whatever their noble motives, she had witnessed Selena’s screams of mercy as they had forced the powerful spirit into her body, and worse, their contempt of Dante as they had bound him with their magic.

  Could women capable of such acts truly be trusted?

  Feeling a nervous sickness clenching her stomach, Abby turned to regard the man walking at her side. She was in dire need of a distraction if she didn’t want to embarrass herself by running away in screeching terror.

  “If you intended to sweep me off my feet with a moonlight stroll, Dante, I have to tell you that I’m not impressed,” she teased in strained tones.

  Turning his head, Dante flashed his familiar wicked grin. “For shame, lover. What could be more romantic than a gentle night breeze—”

  “Perfumed with the rank stench of factories.”

  “Or being surrounded by the beauty of nature.”

  “Itchy, scratchy weeds that are going to leave a very unpleasant rash.”

  He chuckled at her tart words. “At least you must admit that you’ve never had a more handsome, charming, sexy companion.”

  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.

  “Dammit, if we’re going to walk in circles, can we at least do it somewhere that sells mocha ice cream and has air-conditioning?”

  “We aren’t walking in circles,” he instinctively denied, only to give a faint grimace. “At least not precisely.”

  “I suppose you possess some sort of bat vision?”

  He flicked his brow upward. “You do know that bats are blind?”

  She gritted her teeth. “Vampire vision, then.”

  He gave a shrug. “I can see well enough, not that it truly matters. I’m not looking for the coven.”

  “What?” Her eyes glittered with danger in the fading moonlight. “I swear to God, Dante, if you’ve led me through this mutant briar patch for some sort of joke, I’ll st—”

  “Stake me, yes, I know,” he drawled. “You might try to be a bit less predictable, lover.”

  “You didn’t give me the chance to say where I’d stake you,” she snapped.

  A flare of humor raced through him. “True.”

  “For God’s sake, if we’re not looking for the coven, then what the hell are we doing out here?”

  “I said I’m not looking for the coven and I’m not,” he corrected smoothly. “I’m trying to smell it.”

  The prickly anger slowly faded as she realized her hasty mistake.

  “Oh. Are you having any luck?”

  That icy shiver once again crawled over his skin as Dante turned toward the hidden coven.

  “It’s just beyond that line of trees.”

  She followed his gaze, her eyes narrowing. “I’ll have to take your word for it since I can’t see jack crap.”

  “It’s there.”

  “Then why are we waiting?” She sent him a puzzled frown. “I thought you wanted to get this over with?”

  “Something is not right.”

  He felt her tension at his blunt admission. Obviously whatever her feelings for him, she at least had learned to trust his instincts.

  A dark satisfaction lodged itself in his heart but was swallowed swiftly by an inner shudder.

  Bloody hell, he was acting as sappy as any mortal. To imagine an immortal vampire scrounging about for pathetic scraps tossed at him by this woman.

  Perhaps he should be staked.

  “How do you know something’s wrong?” she demanded in a soft whisper.

  With an effort, Dante wrenched his thoughts back to the troubles at hand. They were surely enough to deal with.

  “I smell blood.”

  “Blood?”

  “Lots of blood.”

  “Oh God.”

  “I must find out what happened.”

  Without warning, she reached out to grasp his fingers with her own. The warmth of her swiftly traveled through his skin to heat his entire body.

  “You think the witches have been attacked?”

  There was no point in lying. Not when they would have to approach the coven.

  “Yes.”

  “I . . .” She paused, tilting up her head to stab him with a narrowed gaze. “You’re going to try and make me stay here, aren’t you?”

  “No.” He made the decision swiftly. “Until I know what’s happening, I can’t be certain that there isn’t something still creeping about.”

  Her grip abruptly tightened upon his fingers. “You had to say that, didn’t you?”

  “I want you to be on your guard.”

  She made a sound of disgust at his warning. “I’m wandering through the dark with a vampire, searching for a gaggle of witches who may or may not flay us alive. You think I’m not on my guard?”

  He gave a small tug to pull her close, his hand gently cupping her face.

  “What I think is that the worst is yet to come,” he murmured.

  “Perfect.” Allowing her gaze to meet his own, she momentarily stilled. The stark awareness flared in her eyes then; with a faint shake of her head, she took an awkward step backward. “I suppose we might as well get this over with.”

  Swooping down, he pressed a swift kiss to her not-quite-steady lips.

  “Stay behind me, and if you sense anything, let me know,” he whispered against her mouth.

  She swallowed heavily as he pulled back. “I promise you’ll be the first to hear my scream.”

  “Right.”

  Keeping her fingers laced tightly in his, Dante moved directly toward the thicket of trees. Behind him Abby stumbled and occasionally cursed at the underbrush, but she managed to keep up with his smooth stride. Within a quarter of an hour, they at last stepped into a clearing.

  Directly in the center was a plain three-story brick structure with several wooden outbuildings. There was nothing about it to suggest that it was anything other than a farmhouse. In fact, it was rather depressingly normal.

  Precisely what the witches would desire.

  Unlike vampires, they had no ability to disguise themselves from curious eyes. They were forced to hide in plain sight.

  Abby hesitantly stepped to his side, her brow furrowed in puzzlement.

  “You’re certain this is the coven?”

  “Yes,” he murmured, keeping to the shadows as he cautiously led her closer to the structure.

  “It seems—”

  “Dead?” he finished, halting as they came to a large side window.

  “Yeah, that about sums it up,” she agreed in shaky tones.

  A swift glance through the tinted panes also summed it up. The carnage was impressive, worthy of the darkest soul, but Dante did not allow his gaze to linger. No one within had been left to tell the tale.

  Pulling back, he allowed his gaze to slide over the remaining buildings.

&nb
sp; “Are you going inside?” Abby demanded from behind.

  “No. I cannot enter.”

  “Damn.”

  He turned to offer her a wry smile. “Actually, it’s a good thing.”

  “Why?”

  “It means that at least some of the witches survived the attack,” he explained. “Otherwise the barrier would be broken.”

  “What?”

  His undead heart twitched at the sight of her features that were unbearably fragile.

  “It doesn’t matter. They must have fled. I’ll see if I can pick up their trail.”

  Her mouth dropped open in dismay. “More walking?”

  Dante considered the clearing. For the moment they were alone.

  “You can wait here for me. I won’t go far.”

  She bit her lip, the terror she was struggling to keep at bay almost visible as she considered the darkness shrouded about her.

  “Your definition of far is considerably different than mine,” she muttered.

  He placed his fingers beneath her chin to tilt her head upward. He waited until she met his searching gaze and then offered her a comforting smile.

  “You have only to call and I will come running.”

  “You promise?”

  “Upon my quiche-hating heart,” he said softly.

  Her lips twitched, although her eyes remained dark with unease. “That’ll do.”

  Framing her face in his hands, Dante crushed his lips to her forehead before pulling back to regard her with a somber expression.

  “Abby.”

  “What?”

  “I would suggest you stay away from the windows. It’s bad in there. Really bad.”

  His warning delivered, Dante turned to make his way toward the outbuildings. If some of the witches had fled, he should be able to follow their scent. He supposed it was too much to hope that they might be hidden in the nearby trees.

  In over three centuries, they had never made anything easy.

  Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look.

  Dante’s words echoed through Abby’s mind.

  She knew he was right. She didn’t want to see whatever was inside. God knew she had seen enough in the past hours to last her a couple of lifetimes. Not the least of which was a walking corpse who refused to stay in his grave.