Chapter Six

By the time Anthony dropped her off, Savannah's mood had improved ten-fold.

"Do you want to come in?" she asked.

He playfully nudged her. "Do you have to ask?"

"You know, we never did finish that wine." She pushed the door closed with one hip and tossed her keys onto the spindly-legged entry table.

"I'd rather have this."

She found herself against him, his mouth lowered to hers. Savannah felt his tongue and forced herself to not pull away. He tasted faintly of salt and the sharp sweetness of cola. Not an unappealing combination, but there wasn't a hint of the fire and ice of… No. She would not think about him. She immediately put the brakes on that train of thought and shoved aside all thoughts of her dream angel. Anthony was her here and now. Anthony was real. And he wanted her.

"Let's go to the bedroom," he insisted in a hot whisper.

"Anthony, I—"

The frigid water hit them before she had a chance to finish the statement. Savannah gasped; Anthony yelped and abruptly they broke apart, each taking a hasty step back. The emergency fire sprinkler above their heads continued flinging icy water in a steady shower.

"How the hell does that happen?"

"I don't know." Water sluiced from Savannah to splash onto Anthony—even though he now stood several inches away—and formed a wet pool on her already soaked carpet. "Sorry." She grimaced.

"I think you should call your landlord."

"That's probably a good idea." She smiled dryly, then moved closer to the front door, Anthony in tow, out of the line of fire. "The emergency sprinklers have never turned on like that before." She frowned. "I didn't think they could malfunction like that."

"I guess there's a first time for everything. Speaking of first times … that killed the mood, didn't it?"

"Yes. Yes, it did." She tried for an apologetic grin. "I think maybe that was a hint we need to cool off."

"If that isn't just my luck," he grumbled. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Sure." Savannah squeezed the excess water from her hair and winced as it hit the carpet, even though she was pretty sure a few extra drops wouldn't make a difference to the waterlogged front room. "Stop by after work if you want."

She locked the door after him and sighed as she surveyed the latest damage to the house and her possessions. The sprinkler system hissed and spit out one last stream of water as the flow dribbled to a stop. Good Lord, she thought, feeling overwhelmed as she took in her soggy surroundings. The mess went way beyond towels and a mop. She would have to rent a shop vac, which she couldn't do until morning anyway. And suddenly, standing there amidst the chaos, she felt the now-familiar exhaustion begin to close in on her once again. Promising herself she would clean up the mess in the morning, Savannah turned out the lights and went into her bedroom, slipped into a lightweight summer nightgown, and climbed into bed.

* * *

He was waiting for her on the steps of the grand front porch. Blue fog trailed through the air, so thick it was hard to see more than a few feet in front of her. She smiled tentatively, wondering what she was doing in front of the three-story mansion. Wondering what she was doing here at all, with him. As she'd slipped into bed, she had vowed to stay firmly grounded in reality. In fact, her last coherent thought had been something along the lines of putting her angel out of her mind for good.

Yet here she was, and from the look of him, her angel was refusing to be stuck on the shelf. He advanced on her with a predatory intent that both stunned and frightened her.

"What the hell was that?" he spat, circling around her in the darkness. Gone were the stars and bright moon that had once lit the night around them. The eerie blue mist had taken its place, and she backed up a step, alarmed.

"What are you talking about? What are you doing here? Better yet, what am I doing here?" She fought to keep her voice steady.

"You know damn well what I'm talking about. Are you so quick to get rid of me now? You can't, you know."

No. No way. This wasn't happening. "I have to wake up." Savannah squeezed her eyes shut and poured all her concentration on waking herself from the nightmare she was trapped in.

"It's not that easy, love," he whispered close to her ear.

She was overcome by an involuntary shiver at the cruel emphasis he put on the word.

"You belong here with me, do you understand? Always with me, not that jackass you let paw all over you tonight!"

"Anthony?" Her eyes flew open.

Her angel-turned-demon caught her arm in a grip that bordered on painful. "Don't say his name to me."

"You were there. Oh my God, that was you, wasn't it? You broke the glasses. You turned the sprinkler system on." She felt her mouth form a small O as the realization hit home.

"What's wrong? Did I ruin your date?" he sneered. His eyes glittered blue fire in the darkness that swirled around them.

"No, that's not possible," she uttered in shock. It couldn't be. But it … was. Either she had finally cracked, or all of this—the man included—was real, at least on some level. Some small part of her was still valiantly holding on to the hope that the glasses, the sprinkler, the strange sense of being watched earlier, all had perfectly logical explanations. That this was a dream. That she could control it. Wake up.

"Be thankful I showed restraint," he said, crowding her space again.

She kicked at him then, catching them both by surprise. Savannah had never in her life been in a fight and was acting solely on instinct when she threw her weight into him. He was caught off balance for less than ten seconds, but it was enough. She tore her arm from his grasp and hit the ground running, sprinting for the porch. If she could get to the house and get inside…

"I don't think so." He tackled her on the porch, twisting his body to cushion her fall.

"No!" Savannah landed against his chest and fought hard against him. She had to get to the house. So close, she thought frantically, so close…

"Stop moving!" he ordered.

Yeah, right. She fought even harder.

"Fine." He hauled her roughly to her feet. "You want to go into the house so bad? Let's go."

"Wait—"

"Open the damn door."

She shoved the door open and quickly spun around to shut him out.

His hand shot out to grip her wrist in a vise-like hold and he glared at her through the narrow opening of the door, his eyes pulsating a violent blue. "Invite me in."

"No." His fingers held her steady—her, not the door. The realization broke through the fog of panic, and she glanced down at the fingers that circled her arm. Surely he was strong enough to force his way into the house.

"Invite me in, or I'll break down the door." He tightened his grip on her, pulling hard. "I can do this all night. How long can you hold out?"

"Go away," she shot back, not sure why she'd bothered to speak the words at all. Clearly, he wasn't going anywhere. And she wasn't waking up anytime soon. She was stuck in this fucked up dream world, with no control. Except for this, she thought, staring down at the door, at the way her body was ineffectually pressed against it. It wasn't her strength that was keeping him out. What, then?

"Invite me in."

"If I invite you in, will you let me go?" she bluffed, trying her best to sound convincing. She tossed a glance over her shoulder, trying to see into the darkened house. Maybe there would be a weapon close by.

"Yes."

"And what if…" Savannah kept a firm grip on the door and forced herself to meet his livid gaze. "What if I don't invite you in?"

His eyes narrowed dangerously. "Don't play with me, Savannah."

She looked up at him and shivered at the expression on his face, at the way dark clouds swirled in the sky above him.

Now that she could think a bit more clearly and see the situation objectively, she was positive that she was correct. If he'd wanted to, he could have easily brushed her aside and come through the front door. And he definitely wanted to. That only left one possibility—he couldn't.

For whatever reason, he was stuck outside until—unless—she did as he'd ordered and issued an invitation. She took a deep breath and decided there was no time like the present to test her theory. She was going to have to let go of the door to do it, and the knowledge made her blood run cold. The man who stood scowling at her on the other side of that partially closed door didn't look at all like the same person who'd shown her such attentive tenderness over the past month. If she were somehow wrong, and letting go of the door allowed him entry…

Either way, she knew that he had been correct about one thing: This ridiculous tug-of-war couldn't go on all night.

"Okay, I'll do it," she lied, "but let me go first." His eyebrows rose at that. She nodded toward where he held her. "Please."

He didn't move.

"You're scaring me," she added. That much was true. She barely recognized the man in front of her. Gone was her easygoing confidant. Her fantasy. Her safety net from the rest of the world, from her own loneliness and insecurities. Her heart clenched, the sense of betrayal she felt sharp and painful, even as she told herself that it shouldn't matter. He isn't real. But the words felt wrong, even in her own head.

She took one last deep, steadying breath. Then she let go of the front door and took a step back.