When Darkness Comes (Guardians of Eternity #1)(6)
Author: Alexandra Ivy

A bad, very bad move.

As if a lightning bolt had suddenly struck her, she was vibrantly aware of his hard body branding her own. A body that had haunted her dreams more than a few nights.

Dante’s jaw tightened at her unwittingly provocative movements, his hips instinctively shifting in response.

"Do you think you could possibly be a little more vague?" she managed to choke out.

"What would you have me say?" he demanded in rasping tones.

She struggled to keep her thoughts focused. Good God. Now was no time to be thinking of… of… that.

"Something a bit more clarifying than the darkness.’"

There was a moment of silence, as if he were waging his own battle. Then at last he met her gaze squarely.

"Very well. The demon world refers to the darkness as the Prince, but in truth it isn’t a real being. It is more a… spirit, just as the Phoenix is a spirit. An essence of power that demons call upon to enhance their dark skills."

"And the Phoenix does something to this Prince?"

"Her presence among mortals has banished the Prince from this world. They are two opposites. Neither can be in the same plane at the same moment. Not without both being destroyed."

Well, that seemed like a good thing. The first ray of hope in a very bleak day.

"So, no more demons?"

He gave a lift of his shoulder. ‘They remain, but without the tangible presence of the Prince, they are weakened and chaotic. No longer do they band together to attack in strength, and rarely do they hunt humans. They have been forced into the shadows."

"That’s good, I suppose," she said slowly. "And Selena was this barrier?"

‘Yes."

"Why?"

He blinked at the abrupt question. "Why?"

"Why was she chosen?" Abby clarified, not quite certain why she even cared. She only knew that at the moment it seemed important. "Was she a witch?"

Oddly Dante paused, almost as if he were considering not answering her question. Ridiculous after all he had already revealed. What could be worse than the fact that she was being held captive by a vampire? Or that the one person who kept away all the scary, bad things in the night was now dead?

"She was not so much chosen as offered as a sacrifice by her father," he at last grudgingly confessed.

"She was sacrificed by her father?" Abby gave a startled blink. Hell, she had always thought her father was a shoo-in for scumbag of the year. He had been a brutal jerk whose only redeeming act had been tossing aside his family for a bottle of whiskey. Still, he hadn’t offered her up as fodder to a band of crazed witches. "How could he do such a thing?"

The elegant features hardened with ancient anger. "Quite easily. He was powerful, rich, and accustomed to having his way in all things. Or he was until he was struck down with the plague. In exchange for a cure, he gave the witches his only daughter."

"Holy crap. That’s horrible."

"I suppose he thought it a fair trade-off. He was cured and his daughter made immortal."

"Immortal?" Abby caught in breath with sudden hope. ‘Then Selena is still alive?"

The beautiful features sharpened even further. "No, she is very much dead."

"But… how?"

"I don’t know." His tone was rough with coiled emotions. "At least not yet."

Abby bit her bottom lip, attempting to wrap her aching brain around the consequences of such a death.

"Then the Phoenix is gone?"

"No, it is not gone. It is—" Without warning, Dante flowed to his feet, his head turning toward the closed door. A tense silence filled the room before he at last returned his gaze to her startled face. "Abby, we must go. Now."

Chapter 3

Dante fiercely cursed his stupidity.

For 341 years he had stood as guardian to the Phoenix. Not willingly, and not without a simmering fury at his fate, but with absolute dedication. It was not as if he had a choice. Those witches had seen to that.

But now, when the danger was at its greatest, he discovered himself barely capable of concentrating upon the threat very much at hand.

He impatiently shoved back his tangled hair. Bloody hell, there was little wonder he was distracted. In the past few hours, he had endured more shocks than he had in centuries. The death of the immortal Selena. The fierce, intoxicating joy as he felt the chains begin to loosen. And the horror of watching the Phoenix being branded into Abby.

Abby.

Double bloody hell. He glared down at her slender form. The woman had been a plague and pestilence since she arrived at Selena’s estate. With her skin as soft as satin. Her honey curls that haloed her gamine face. Her vulnerable eyes. And the hot passions that smoldered just beneath her screw-the-world attitude. It called to him like the song of a Siren. A tasty morsel that he had had every intention of consuming at his leisure.

But now everything had changed. Now she was no longer a lovely diversion. No longer a bit of sport. She was his to protect. And he would do so until his very death.

"Gome," he commanded in soft tones, summoning his ancient instincts. "Something approaches."

Struggling to her feet, she eyed him warily. "What?"

He grasped her arm in a firm grip. "Demons." He reached out with his senses, touching the approaching darkness. "And more than one."

Her face paled, but with that inner strength he had always admired, she didn’t faint or scream or do all those annoying things that mortals were so prone to do when faced with the mystic.

"But they surely won’t trouble us. We don’t have anything they could want."

His lips twisted. "You’re wrong, lover. We possess a treasure beyond all dreams."

"What—"

"I’m afraid the twenty questions will have to wait until later, Abby."

Pulling her close to his side, he silently crossed toward the nearly hidden door next to the bed. Reaching out, he turned the knob and thrust it open. Wood splintered as the dead bolt was ripped from the frame. Still holding Abby close, he tugged her through the shadows of the adjoining room, barely giving a glance toward the drunk who snored in vodka oblivion upon his bed.

Dante moved directly to the narrow window. Forcing it open, he turned to lean close to Abby’s ear. "Stay close to me and don’t make a sound," he whispered. "If we are attacked, I want you to stay behind me and don’t run. They will be attempting to frighten you into a trap."

"But I want to know why—"

"Not now, Abby," he growled impatiently. "If we’re going to get out of here alive, I need you to trust me. Can you do that?"