Dante lifted his head to meet her bewildered frown. She was still in shock from the unexpected violence, but at the moment he couldn't comfort her as he desired. It was imperative that he discover all he could of this latest threat.
"Please, Abby, tell me exactly what you did."
"What does it matter?" She gave a shiver. "It's dead, isn't it?"
"As dead as Elvis on this occasion. The question is why he is dead."
"Well, it might have something to do with that gaping hole in his head."
"No, that killed him the first time. When he entered the room, he was animated by magic, not a heartbeat. Nothing could have killed him but fire, preferably of the mystic variety."
"Fire?" She gave a shake of her head. "All I did was push him."
Rolling over the body, Dante jerked open the formal white shirt the poor soul had been buried in. In the shadowed light, the decay of the chest was hardly visible, but there was no mistaking the deep burns that were in the perfect shape of two hands.
Abby's hands.
"That was quite a push, lover," he murmured.
She made a sound deep in her throat as she hastily backed away In horror. "Are you saying that I did that?"
The tight distress in her voice had Dante uncoiling to move directly before her, conveniently blocking out the nasty sight of the corpse.
"I'm saying that you saved me," he informed her sternly. "If you hadn't stopped Undead Walking there, I would be showered over you in a very unflattering shade of ash."
"But how?" she whispered. "How could I do something like that?"
His hands moved to her shoulders to stroke them in a soothing motion. "I did tell you that the Phoenix would find ways to protect itself. There's nothing to be frightened of, Abby."
The brilliant blue eyes flashed with a barely suppressed emotion. "I just burned huge holes in that… thing without even knowing what I was doing."
'You were protecting yourself. And thankfully me in the bargain."
She lifted her hands to stare at them as if they were foreign objects. "But I don't even know how I did it."
"Does it matter?"
"Of course it matters," she retorted in sharp tones. "I've seen Firestarter. Do you think I want to be some freaking human torch?"
Dante was swift to smother his flare of humor at her fears. For all her courage, Abby was hanging by a thin thread.
"Lover, calm down. You aren't a human torch." Gently he reached for one of her hands and placed it to the center of his chest. Sharp, smoldering heat flared through him at her touch, but it had nothing to do with the power of the Phoenix. "See?"
"But…"
"Abby." He rested his forehead upon laer own, squeezing her fingers in silent comfort. "It's no different than your ability to stop a man with a well-aimed kick or using those nails as lethal weapons. It's just another tool. One that might very well keep you alive."
She remained stiff in his arms for a long moment, and then at last she gave a tearful chuckle. "Is there anything that ever bothers you?"
Pulling back, Dante traced the lone tear that ran down her cheek. "This bothers me. It makes me ache deep inside."
"Dante."
The vulnerability that softened her features was Dante's undoing. Before he could resist, his head was lowering to capture her lips in a soft kiss that shimmered through his very bones.
Slowly he tightened his arms about her shaking body, needing to comfort her in the only means possible. Bloody hell, he wanted to sweep her away from this devil-infested mess. An impossible desire, of course. Until they found the witches, all he could do was try to protect her and hope that she could endure the terrors yet to come.
Stroking his lips over her cheeks and down the length of her jaw, he patiently whispered words of encouragement until he sensed her trembling lessen.