"I'm sorry."
The silver eyes darkened as he tenderly ran the back of his fingers over her heated cheeks.
'There are some things I must do. I want you to remain here." The fingers slid beneath her chin as he gazed deep into her eyes. "And whatever happens, do not open this door until I return. Do you understand?"
A shiver inched down her spine. He was leaving her? Alone?
Good Lord, what if he didn't return? What if some demon attacked while he was gone? "What if…
Grasping her shattered courage, Abby gave a lift of her chin. Stop being such a spineless wimp, she chided herself. Dammit. She had been taking care of herself since she was fourteen years old. Not only herself, but her mother as well, since the older woman discovered life easier to bear at the bottom of a whiskey bottle.
And all without the assistance of a sinfully beautiful vampire.
"I understand."
As if sensing the effort it cost her to appear brave, his fingers tightened upon her chin. Gazes locked, he slowly lowered his head.
"Abby," he whispered.
Softly he brushed his lips over her own. And over and over. His touch was featherlight, but it was enough to make her entire body tingle with pleasure. Tingle and shiver and lots of other exhilarating things.
At last he lifted his head and stepped back. Still reeling with the aftershocks, she watched in silence as he turned to leave the room. It was only when the door snapped firmly shut behind him that she recalled the need to breathe.
Well…
It seemed that her feet weren't nearly as tired as she had thought since her toes were firmly curled in pleasure.
A hysterical urge to laugh bubbled in her throat as she moved to flop herself upon a leather sofa. Vampire kisses, indeed. She was mad. That was the only explanation. She was stark, raving mad.
And thankfully too exhausted to even care at the moment.
Allowing her head to topple back onto the leather cushions, Abby breathed in deeply and closed her eyes. For the first time in hours, she wasn't searching over her shoulder for marauding demons or squashing through rotting trash. There was not even a vampire in sight.
For the moment she could simply relax.
Relax? Yeah, right, a tiny voice mocked in the back of her mind.
She sucked in a deep breath. No. She could do this. All it took was a bit of concentration.
Relax, relax, relax, she silently chanted. She snuggled deeper into the cushions. She slowed her breathing. She tried to imagine a beautiful waterfall, a peaceful meadow, the sound of whales (whatever the hell they sounded like).
All worthless efforts that were eventually disturbed when a cold rash raced over her skin.
A sudden certainty that she was no longer alone had her eyes fluttering open and her head lifting. Her heart halted as she realized her instincts had not been wrong.
There was a man standing in the center of the room.
No, not a man, she swiftly corrected. Now that she knew the truth of Dante, she could detect what those too-perfect features and fiercely elegant form meant.
Not that this vampire was the spitting image of Dante, she readily concluded. He was taller and leaner, with a ripple of hard muscles beneath the crimson velvet coat that flowed nearly to his knees and black satin slacks. His hair was worn long, but it was like the pale silver of moonlight and his eyes the startling darkness of midnight. And while his features were hauntingly beautiful, there was a starkness to his countenance that sent a chill down her spine.
This was not the charmingly wicked bad boy.
This was an exquisite fallen angel who held himself aloof from the world about him.
Slowly rising to her feet, she discovered herself nervously licking her lips as he strolled nonchalantly forward. His midnight gaze swept over her with unnerving intensity. It was not until he was a mere step from her that he came to a halt.
"Ah, Abby is it not?"