Unnerved by the prickling sensation, she turned her head toward the stairs just as a thundering concussion ripped through the house. Caught off guard, she tumbled backward, her breath knocked from her body.
Just for a moment she lay perfectly still. She half-expected the ceiling to come crumbling down upon her. Or the ground to open up and swallow her.
What the blazes had happened? An earthquake? A gas explosion?
The end of the world?
Whatever it was, it had been enough to tumble the pictures from the walls and knock over tables. Suddenly the Ming vase she had broken matched every other priceless object.
Giving a shake of her head to clear the ringing in her ears, Abby sucked in a deep breath. Well, at least she seemed to be alive, she told herself. And while she was certain to be sporting a few bruises, she didn’t think anything vital was actually missing or punctured.
Lying flat on her back, she barely heard the low feral growl, but it still managed to make the hair upon her nape stand upright. Dear Lord, now what?
Struggling to push herself upright, she glanced about the littered foyer. Astonishingly it was empty. No wild animal. No approaching madman.
And no Dante.
With a frown, Abby ignored her wobbly knees and forced herself toward the nearby stairs. Where had Dante gone? Had he been hit by the explosion? Or thrown from the foyer?
Had he simply disappeared in a puff of smoke?
No, no, of course not. She pressed a hand to her aching head. She was thinking crazy. She must have been knocked unconscious for a moment. That would explain it. No doubt he had gone to check on the damage. Or to call for assistance.
Her job was surely to ensure that Selena was not injured.
Concentrating upon placing one foot in front of the other, a startlingly difficult task, she managed to climb the sweeping marble stairs and awkwardly make her way down the hallway. At the end of the long east wing, the door to Selena’s chambers was already open and Abby stepped over the threshold.
She got no farther.
A gasp was wrenched from her throat as her wide gaze swept over the demolished room. Like downstairs, the pictures and various objects had been tumbled to the ground, most of them smashed beyond recognition. But here the general mayhem had left the walls blackened and in places crumbled to dust. Even the windows had been blasted from their frames.
Her gaze flew to the large bed that was tumbled onto its side and at last to the center of the room where Dante was kneeling beside a limp, battered form.
“Oh my God.” Holding her hands to her mouth, Abby stumbled forward, her heart firmly lodged in her throat. “Selena.”
Noticing her presence for the first time, Dante jerked his head up to regard her with a frown. Almost absently, Abby noted the even sharper pallor of his skin and the oddly hectic glitter in his silver eyes.
Obviously he was as shaken as she was.
“Get out of here,” he growled.
She ignored his warning as she fell to her knees beside the burned body. Whatever her secret dislike for the beautiful, coldhearted woman, it was forgotten as tears streamed down her cheeks.
“Is she . . . dead?” she croaked.
“Abby, I said to leave. Now. Get out of this room. Out of this house . . .”
The dark, furious words continued, but Abby was no longer listening. Instead she watched in fascinated horror as one of the charred hands twitched upon the carpet. Holy freaking hell. Could the poor woman still be alive? Or was it some horrible trick of her imagination?
Frozen in shock, Abby stared at the fingers that continued to jerk and spasm ever closer. It was like something out of a nightmare. A sensation that only deepened when the hand snapped upward and grasped her wrist in a painful grasp.
Opening her mouth to scream, Abby discovered her breath wrenched from her body. A coldness was spreading from the fingers that dug into her flesh. A coldness that crawled through her blood with a searing, ruthless agony. With a groan, she desperately attempted to tug herself free of the brutal grip.
She was going to die, she realized in stunned disbelief. The pain was clawing at her heart, slowing its beat until it was doomed to halt. She was going to die, and she hadn’t even bothered to start living yet.
What an idiot she was.
Raising her head, she met Dante’s shimmering metallic gaze. His beautiful, wicked features appeared grim in the dim light. Grim and edged with something that might have been fury, or regret, or . . . desperation.
She tried to speak, but a bright flare of light burst through her mind, and with a strangled scream she plunged headfirst into the welcoming darkness.
Chapter 2
Surrounded by a silver fog of pain, Abby floated in a world that was not quite real.
Was she dead?
Surely not. She would be at peace, wouldn’t she? Not feeling as if her bones were being slowly crushed and her head about to explode.
If she were dead, then this whole afterlife thing was a big, fat rip-off.
No. She had to be dreaming, she at last reassured herself. That would certainly explain why the silver fog was beginning to part.
Curious despite the vague taste of fear in the air, she peered through the shimmering light. Moments later she could see a dark, stone chamber that was only dimly lit by a flickering torch. In the center of the stone floor lay a young woman in white robes. Abby frowned. The woman’s pale face was remarkably familiar, although it was difficult to determine the exact features as the woman twisted and screamed in obvious agony.
About her prostrate form sat a circle of women in gray cloaks, holding hands and chanting in low voices. Abby could not make out the words, but it appeared as if they were performing some sort of ritual. Perhaps an exorcism. Or an enchantment.
Slowly a gray-haired woman stood and held her hands toward the shadowed ceiling.
“Arise Phoenix and bring forth your power,” she called in booming tones. “The sacrifice is offered, the covenant sealed. Bless our noble Chalice. Bless her with your glory. Offer to her the might of your sword to fight the evil that threatens. We call. Come forth.”
Crimson flames swept through the chamber as the women continued to chant, hovering in the thick air before surrounding the screaming woman upon the floor. Then, just as abruptly as they had appeared, the flames melted into the woman’s flesh.
Abruptly the gray-haired woman turned her head toward a darkened corner.
“The prophecy is fulfilled. Bring forth the beast.”
Expecting some horrid, five-headed monster that would fit right into the bizarre nightmare, Abby caught her breath as a man attired in a ruffled white shirt and satin knee breeches was brought forward, a heavy metal collar and chain hung about his neck. His head was bowed, allowing his long raven hair to cover his face, but that didn’t halt a shiver of premonition from inching down Abby’s spine.
“Creature of evil, you have been chosen above all others,” the woman intoned. “Wicked is your heart and yet blessed are you. We pledge you to the Chalice. In fire and blood we bind you. In the shadow of death we bind you. Through eternity and beyond we bind you.”
The torch suddenly flared, and with a terrifying growl, the man lifted his head.
No. It was not possible. Not even in the strange and ridiculous world of dreams. Especially not ones that felt so horrifyingly real.
Still, there was no mistaking his terrifying beauty. Or the smoldering silver eyes.
Dante.
She shuddered in horror. This was madness. Why would these women have him chained? Why would they call him a monster? A creature of evil?
Madness, indeed. A dream. Nothing more, she attempted to convince herself.
Then without warning, the unease tracing her spine turned to consuming terror. In pure fury, Dante tilted back his head, the perfect alabaster features bathed in flickering light. The same flickering light that revealed his long, deadly fangs.
When Abby at last woke again, the si
lver fog, and the sharpest edges of her pain, had disappeared.
Still, with uncommon caution, she forced herself to remain perfectly motionless. After the day she had already endured, now didn’t seem to be the best time to be charging and blundering about in her usual style. Instead she attempted to take stock of her surroundings.
She was lying upon a bed, she at last decided. Not her own bed, however. This one was hard and lumpy and possessed a funky scent she didn’t even want to consider. In the distance, she could hear the sounds of passing traffic and, closer, the muffled sound of voices or perhaps a television.
Well, she wasn’t in Selena’s charred house. She was no longer in a damp dungeon with screaming women and demons. And she wasn’t dead.
That was surely progress?
Screwing up her courage, Abby slowly lifted her head from the pillow and glanced about the shadowed room. There wasn’t much to see. The bed she was lying upon consumed most of the cramped space. About her were bare walls and the ugliest flowered curtains ever created. At the end of the bed was a broken dresser that held an ancient television, and in the corner was a shabby chair.
A chair that was currently occupied by a large, raven-haired man.
Or was he a man?
Her heart squeezed with a building dread as her gaze swept over the slumbering Dante. God. She would have to be demented to think what she was thinking.
Vampires? Living and breathing . . . or whatever it was that vampires did . . . in Chicago? Nuts. Full-out, engines-roaring madness.
But the dream. It had been so vivid. So real. Even now she could smell the foul, damp air and the acrid burning of the torch. She could hear the screams and chanting. She could hear the rattling of heavy chains. She could see Dante being pulled forward and the fangs that marked him as a beast.
Real or not, it had unnerved her enough to desire a bit of space between her and Dante. And perhaps several crosses, a few wooden stakes, and a bottle of holy water.
Barely daring to breathe, Abby sat upright and swung her legs over the edge of the mattress. Her head threatened to revolt, but she gritted her teeth and pushed herself upward. She wanted out of here.
She wanted to be in her familiar home, surrounded by her familiar things.
She wanted out of this nightmare.
Taking one unsteady step followed by another and another, Abby moved across the room. She was just upon the point of reaching for the doorknob when there was the faintest whisper of sound behind her. The hair on the nape of her neck tingled before a pair of steely arms wrapped about her.
“Not so fast, lover,” a dark voice murmured directly in her ear.
For a moment her mind went blank, and she was paralyzed with fear. Then sheer panic took control.
Arching her back, she frantically attempted to kick at his legs. “Let me go. Let go.”
“Go?” His arms merely tightened at her struggles. “Tell me, sweet, where do you plan to go?”
“That’s none of your business.”
Surprisingly he gave a short, humorless laugh. “My God, you don’t know how I wish that were true. We were both released, do you realize that? We were free. The chains were broken.”
Abby stilled at his rough, accusing words. “What do you mean?”
He brushed his face over the top of her head in an oddly intimate manner before he was firmly turning her to meet his shimmering gaze.
“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. Surel
y 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?”
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