Abby smiled with heady satisfaction, thoroughly enjoying the knowledge that Dante was completely at her mercy.

For this moment he was hers. As intimately tied to her as if they were one.

One soul, regardless if he possessed one or not.

One heart, beating or not.

One body.

With slow, deliberate motions, she tormented them both to the edge of frenzy, refusing to increase the pace even as he gasped out a plea for mercy.

Only when she realized that her muscles were inevitably tightening to an explosive release did she give in to his broken commands and allow him to grasp her hips so he could pump himself forcefully within her.

He gave a shout of joy at the same moment she violently convulsed about him.

For a moment out of time, she floated in pure bliss, pressed against the impaling flesh until with a low moan she collapsed against him in utter exhaustion.

She was shaken by the force of her pleasure. But oddly comforted by the arms that encircled her to press her close against the hardness of his body.

It was as if she had been thrown from the top of a skyscraper, only to discover she was being caught in the safety of Dante's embrace.

Perhaps sensing her tumultuous emotions, Dante softly stroked her tousled curls and placed a comforting kiss on her brow.

"Are you all right, Abby?"

She snuggled against his strength. "More than all right."

"And you aren't considering any wanton staking?"

"Not at the moment."

"Good." He gave a soft chuckle as his lips absently smoothed over her temple. "Unlike most vampires, I enjoy my passion without pain, bloodshed, or the threat of imminent staking."

Lazily tilting back her head, she met his glittering gaze. "What about Sasha?"

A decidedly smug smile curved his lips. "I've told you there's no need to be jealous, my sweet. I put Sasha in my past the moment you arrived on Selena's doorstep."

Her heart gave a jump even as she regarded him with a frown. "I don't believe you."

He arched a brow, his unworldly beauty starkly pronounced as the rosy dawn outside the cave began to dispel the gloom.

'That Sasha is in my past?"

"That you even noticed me when I arrived on Selena's doorstep," she clarified in dry tones.

His fingers traced aimless patterns over the bare skin of her back, his expression softened with amusement.

"Oh, I noticed. How could I not?" His lips twisted with a hint of self-derision. "From the moment you arrived, I was plagued by that damnable purity. It taunted me until I couldn't get you out of my thoughts. I knew I was going to seduce you even before I knew your name."

She gave a choked laugh at his outrageous arrogance. "Could you possibly be a little more full of yourself?"

He shrugged. "There are some things that are inevitable."

Abby paused. She wasn't much of a philosopher. Hell, she didn't even know what a philosopher actually did. But she did know that inevitable or fate or providence were not words in her vocabulary.

"No, there is no such thing as inevitable," she said firmly.

"Why do you say that?" he demanded, more curious than offended.

"Because if fate was set in stone, then I would be a drunken whore working the streets for a cheap bottle of whiskey."

Her tone was light, but she felt him stiffen beneath her, his fingers pressing into her skin.

"Don't say that," he rasped.

She pulled back to regard him with a somber expression. "Why not? It's true enough. My parents were both alcoholics who shouldn't have been allowed to have a dog, let alone six children. My father spoke with his fists and did us all a favor when he forgot to return home after a drunken spree. And my mother left her bed only long enough to get a fresh bottle of whiskey. My brothers took off as quickly as they could, and I was left alone to watch my mother die. What sort of destiny do you think was waiting for me?"

With a firm tug of his hands, he pressed her back against his chest, his chin resting on the top of her head.

"Destiny has nothing to do with where you came from or who your parents might be," he said fiercely. "Destiny comes from the heart, and the soul. You could never be anything less than extraordinary, Abby Barlow."

Wrapped tightly in his arms, she did feel extraordinary. She wasn't the grubby little girl who roamed the streets because she was terrified to go home. Or the teenager who kept people at a distance because she didn't want them to know the truth of her family. Or even the tedious, rapidly aging woman who struggled just to keep a roof over her head.

She was bold and daring. A vampire's lover. The woman who held the fate of the world within her.

A weary smile tugged at her lips.

God save the world if she was its best hope.

"I don't know about extraordinary," she murmured, "but I'm definitely exhausted."

'Then sleep." His lips pressed gently to her hair. "I promise to keep you safe."

Abby allowed her heavy lids to fall shut.

No doubt she should be making plans and considering her options. Or even returning to the coven to discover if she could find any clue of where the witches might have fled.

Who knew what might be stalking and closing in on her even now?

At the moment, however, she preferred to play the role of Scarlett O'Hara to that of Lara Croft.

She would consider it all… tomorrow.

Dante was a card-carrying cynic.

How could he not be?

He was an immortal. He had done everything, seen everything, been with everything.

Most of them more than once.

There was nothing left to surprise him.

Nothing but the woman currently curled in his arms.

Bloody hell. He had already been amazed by her rare courage. And, of course, dazzled by her beauty. But to have her give herself to him with such raw, delicious abandon.

Well, that was enough to make even a jaded creature of the night feel a bit stunned.

A wry smile twisted his lips, and his hand ran softly over her curls. He was unaccustomed to holding a woman for hours as she slept. It was not the way of vampires. They were by nature solitary creatures. And even when together, they didn't seek such tender intimacy. Passion was all well and good, but once it was done, there was no reason to linger.

Only humans felt the need to hide animal instincts behind pretty emotional wrappings.

Perhaps vampires were not nearly as wise as they had always believed, he ruefully conceded.

Sensitive to Abby's slightest movement, Dante was aware the moment she began to stir. Tangled black lashes fluttered and then at last lifted to reveal sleepy blue eyes.

"Dante?" she murmured.

His arms instinctively tightened. "I'm here, lover."

"Did you sleep at all?"

Dante shrugged. "I have little need for sleep."

"Speaking of need, I have to step outside."

With a rueful grimace, Abby pulled out of his grasp and pulled on her scattered clothes. Dante rose as well, his gaze never straying from her awkward motions.

'You won't wander far?" he warned as she moved toward the entrance of the cave.

She tossed him awry glance. "Don't worry."

She might as well have saved her breath, he acknowledged as she slipped out of the cave. He would of course worry. And fret. And damn the all-too-slow setting sun that prevented him from following after her.

If something happened, he would be utterly helpless to save Abby.

He paced the cave. That took all of five seconds. He rammed his fingers through his tangled hair and impatiently pulled it back to tie it at his nape. That took nearly three minutes. He paced again. And again. And again.

Ten minutes later, he was seriously considering the notion of marching from the cave to assure himself that Abby was still alive. Thankfully the sound of her pounding footsteps prevented any hasty death-by-setting-sun; moving as close to the entrance as he dared, he stood directly in her path as she barreled right into his waiting arms.

His brows swiftly pulled together as he felt her trembling against him.

"Abby? Is something wrong?"

She tilted back her head, her eyes wide. "I don't know. There were… shadows out there."

Dante tensed in reaction, already considering how he could protect this woman while they were virtually trapped in the cave. Damn, he had not counted on anyone finding them so swiftly.

"Shadows?"

"No, that's not exactly right." She gave a frustrated shake of her head. "They were more silvery thingamabobs."

He gave a lift of his brow. "Maybe it would be better if you tried to speak in English, my love. I don't know the translation for thingumabobs."

Turning about, she pointed imperiously toward the mouth of the cave.

"There."

Edging dangerously close to the fading shaft of sunlight, Dante surveyed the nearby trees. His tension fled as he caught sight of the slender silver forms that darted through the shadows.

"Ah."

"What are they?"

Dante shrugged. "I suppose you would call them fey creatures."

She shifted to stand close at his side, seemingly unaware that her sweet heat was cloaking about him and causing all sorts of delicious reactions.