When Darkness Comes (Guardians of Eternity #1)(28)

There was rotted wheat in cereal? Hellfire. How dare humans shudder at vampires' preference for blood? At least he demanded it distinctly unrotted.

'It's worth a try," he concluded. "Which direction?"

"South."

Gunning the engine, Dante turned the car southward. There was no guarantee that the coven would be near the factory, but it was at least a place to start.

As silence once again descended, Dante shot a covert glance toward the woman at his side. On this occasion, Abby wasn't guzzling the potent herbs or humming in a pleasant cloud of fog. Instead her brow was furrowed, and she chewed upon her lower lip as if she were in deep thought.

With an effort, he resisted the urge to demand what was on her mind. If he had learned nothing else about this woman over the past few months, it was that she could write a thesis on stubbornness. She would reveal what she wanted to reveal, when she wanted to reveal it.

It was twenty minutes later before she at last turned her head to study him with a troubled expression.

"Dante?"

"Yes?"

"Viper seemed angry when you spoke with him earlier."

Dante abruptly clenched his fingers on the steering wheel. He had presumed that Abby had been far too occupied with ensuring none of the guests were creeping toward her neck to notice his confrontation with his fellow vampire. It seemed that not even a hotel filled with vampires and demons indulging in orgies could keep her properly distracted.

"He wasn't overly eager to hand over the keys to his favorite Porsche," he retorted in light tones. "He can be annoyingly possessive of his toys."

"No." She gave a decisive shake of her head. "I don't believe you."

"Rather harsh, lover," he protested.

"He didn't want you to take me to the coven. Why?"

Dante muttered a low curse. Damn Viper and his poor imitation of a mother hen.

'You could not possibly have heard what was said between us," he futilely attempted to bluster.

"I know you were arguing and that he was trying to convince you of something," she charged. "He's worried about what the coven will do to you, isn't he?"

"Viper has always distrusted magic."

"Dante, I want the truth." She folded her arms over her chest, clearly taking on a don't-screw-with-me attitude. "Will they harm you?"

He shrugged. "They need me."

"They did need you, but now everything has changed," she muttered, striking far too close to the truth. "In fact, I think that we should reconsider seeking out the witches."

"What?"

"I won't have you hurt."

Dante grimly kept his gaze on the empty road. Despite his undeniable flare of pleasure at her concern, he wasn't about to make this woman into a martyr.

"Abby, we have no choice."

'There are always choices."

His expression hardened at her soft words. "Not if you are to be rid of the Phoenix. They're the only ones capable of transferring the power to another."

There was a long pause, and Dante had almost convinced himself that he had forced Abby to see reason when she cleared her throat.

"Then maybe I should just keep it."

The car dangerously swerved before Dante could regain command of himself. Bloody hell, the woman never failed to catch him off guard. Slowing to a mere crawl, he shot her a disgruntled frown.

"Yon don't know what you're saying," he growled. 'You haven't been prepared to become the Chalice."

She gave a lift of her brows. "Was Selena?"

He grimaced as he recalled his former mistress. Although Selena had been human, she had always possessed the arrogant belief that she was above others. Not surprising for the daughter of a duke who considered himself on equal footing with his own god. Selena had viewed the power and immortality of the Phoenix as her right rather than her duty.

"She knewwhat she was getting into," he muttered.

Abby reached out to lightly touch his arm. 'Then tell me."

Dante carefully chose his words. He didn't want to add to her terror, but then again, he had to make sure that she understood precisely why it was impossible for her to carry such a burden.

"Can you imagine what it is like to be immortal?" he at last demanded.

"Well, I can imagine it makes life insurance a rather moot point."

"Abby," he rasped.

She gave a lift of her shoulder. "I'll admit I've never had reason to give it much thought."

"It means watching your family and friends wither and die while you remain precisely the same," he informed her sharply. "It means watching life pass by without ever touching you. It means being utterly alone."

She offered a humorless laugh. "My so-called relatives could have posed for the poster of dysfunctional families. My father terrorized and then abandoned us, my mother drank herself into an early grave, and my brothers fled Chicago the moment they could escape." There was a brief silence. "I have always been alone," she whispered in the dark.

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."