"Actually, no. I shall also need this." Loosening his hold upon Abby, he bent downward and with one smooth movement grasped the daggers hidden in his boots. In the same motion, he was rolling forward, the daggers already leaving his hands as he came back up to his feet.
For a moment Haiford merely stood silent in the darkness. It was almost as if he hadn't yet noticed the dagger deeply planted in his middle eye or the other that stuck in his lower stomach. But whether he was in shock or indifferent to the danger, the deadly missiles had done their duty; with a rasping moan, he collapsed onto the vile rubbish that littered the alley.
Dante never hesitated as he flowed forward. With efficiency, he sliced open Halford's throat and then cut out his heart. He was never stupid enough to presume a demon was dead until he held its heart in Ms hand. At last satisfied, he reached to retrieve his daggers and traced his way back to Abby. She hastily backed away from his approach, her eyes wide with distress.
"Abby."
"No." She held out her hands. "Stay away from me."
Harshly smothering his flare of impatience, Dante forced himself to return the bloody daggers to his boots and to smooth back his tangled hair before taking another step closer. She was a breath away from bolting. One misstep and he would find himself having to chase her through the maze of alleys.
A wickedly delicious thought under normal circumstances, he ruefully conceded. Tonight, however, was anything but normal,
"Abby, the demon is dead," he soothed. "He will not harm you."
"And what of you?" she demanded in uneven tones. "You were going to sell me to that… thing. For blood."
"Don't be a fool. Of course I wasn't going to sell you." He reached out to grasp her chin, forcing her to meet his steady gaze. "I merely wanted to distract Halford long enough to strike. In case you didn't notice, he was somewhat larger than me. It seemed best to avoid an ugly brawl."
Her tongue peeked out to touch her lips. It was a tiny, unwitting gesture, and yet it made Dante's fingers tighten upon her delicate skin. No matter what the danger about them, having her so close stirred a fierce, aching hunger. One that he feared wouldn't be appeased any time soon.
"Why should I trust you?" she rasped.
His lips twisted as he lowered his hand and held it out. "Because for the moment, lover, you have no choice."
There was a long moment when she battled her inner demons before at last accepting that the demons currently hunting them were far more dangerous than him.
Still, it was with obvious reluctance that she at last laid her hand in his.
Not giving her time for second thoughts, Dante grasped her fingers and, with a tug, they were slipping through the darkness. He was startled by the flare of disappointment that touched him at her lingering fear of him. What else did he expect from a mortal?
Unfortunately, the knowledge that she considered him only a step above the evil creatures chasing them, and maybe not even a whole step, more like a baby half step, left a hollow sensation within him.
Turning down a side alley, Dante continued to brood upon the woman struggling to keep pace with his long strides. Brooding and tingling with awareness of her warm flesh touching his own. That no doubt explained why he was taken off guard when the hellhound abruptly sprang from the building overhead and knocked him to the ground.
In a heartbeat, the deadly hound had him pinned to the ground, the acid from his teeth dripping onto Dante's flesh with searing pain.
"Bloody hell," he muttered. "You smelly, slimy piece of crap."
Reaching up, Dante was preparing to grasp the demon's throat and rip it out when there was a sudden whoosh of air, followed by the sickening crush of bone. He blinked as the hellhound tumbled to the side, obviously dead.
"Are you hurt?"
Like a vision from a dream, Abby was leaning over him, her face smeared with muck and her hair hanging in limp tangles, but her expression was one of gentle concern. Dante took a moment to savor the enchanting view before reluctantly pushing himself up to his elbows. Turning his head, he regarded the twitching demon before returning his attention to Abby.
"Nice swing, love," he murmured, taking in the rusty pipe she clutched in her hand. "Demon killer extraordinaire, in fact. Almost as good as—"
"Say the name Buffy and I'll stake you," she warned, raising the pipe in a threatening motion.
He gave a low chuckle. "Very frightening, sweet, but if you truly want to get the job done, it has to be wood."
'That could be arranged."
"No doubt." Dante rolled to his feet, brushing off the clinging filth. "Unfortunately, it will have to wait until later. For now we must be on our way."
Taking her arm, Dante was once again moving down the alley, on this occasion keeping his senses alert. Sharply, excruciatingly alert.
Devil spit. He had been knocked down by a hellhound. In front of a beautiful woman. He wasn't about to be humiliated again.