"Are you okay?"
"I was just thinking."
Well, that didn't seem so awfully bad. At least she hadn't tumbled into some catatonic state.
"What were you thinking?"
"Do all vampires have Porsches?"
He shot her a swift glance of puzzlement. That was what she had been brooding on? The preferred form of transport for vampires?
"Of course not," he said slowly. "I know several vampires who prefer Jags and even one who wouldn't be caught dead in anything but a Lamborghini. Pun intended."
"Ah." She wagged her finger in his general direction. "I knew there was something suspicious going on. I just supposed that the very rich had sold their souls to the devil. Instead they are all demons."
'Yes, it's all a vast conspiracy."
She actually giggled. Giggled. Then, taking another deep drink, she turned her head on the soft leather seat and regarded him with half-closed eyes.
"Whatever happened to the days when a vampire would skulk through the sewers and live in a damp crypt?"
He arched a brow. "I think they ended about the same time mortals decided to crawl out of their caves."
"Still, you should at least turn into a bat or have a bumpy forehead. Something vampirish."
Okay. It was official. Mortal women were without exception the most unpredictable, erratic, insane creatures ever to roam the earth.
And this woman was the champion of champions at driving a vampire insane. One minute she was terrified, the next she was angry, and then, bam, she was all soft and vulnerable.
Still, this giggling, almost giddy mood was a distinct change. He might have thought she was drunk as a skunk if it weren't…
Oh bloody hell. Dante's eyes narrowed as he watched her down another large gulp of her drink.
That was it.
It had been so long since Selena had become the Phoenix that he had forgotten the effects of the potent herbs. Over the years, she had become accustomed to the concoction, but for a time she had reacted with precisely the same woozy silliness.
"Abby," he murmured.
"Mmmm?"
"Are you drinking Selena's herbs?"
"Yes." She smiled blithely. "And you know, once you get past the vile taste and occasional lumps, it isn't entirely repulsive. It makes me feel… tingly."
"Tingly?"
She abruptly grimaced. "Except for my nose. I can't feel my nose at all. It's still there, isn't it?"
Dante swallowed a laugh as he reached out to lightly tap her nose. She was unexpectedly endearing when she was tanked.
"Safe and sound in the center of your face," he assured her.
"Good. I don't like it very much, but I wouldn't want to lose it."
"No, a nose is a good thing to have." He regarded the pale features a moment before returning his gaze to the darkened streets. "And it's a perfectly fine nose."
"It's too short, and it has freckles."