Accidentally Married To...A Vampire? (26 page)

Bloody, fucking mess!

If he ended up tortured by the queen, she’d be tortured too!

And if by some odd chance he didn’t end up in the bowels of the dungeon, he still couldn’t be with her. He’d kill her. She’d driven him past the brink of madness with her satin skin infused with her sweet, feminine scent. When he’d brought her to release with his hand, it was the silver straw that broke the hungry vampire’s back. His mind became permeated with her rapture.

It took every ounce of willpower he had to deny his primeval instinct to devour her…mind, body, and soul—well, mostly body, to be honest. Then the trickle of blood from her neck pooled in his mouth, shocking him back to reality. That was odd; the taste of her blood should have sealed her fate. Perhaps his love for her was stronger than he thought. But would he be so lucky next time? Not likely. That meant he’d have to transform her.
Not happening. Back to square one.

He tipped her face toward him and brushed the hair from her face. “Helena, we need to talk. I—”

The door burst open. In charged Andrus, flanked by five Demilords. Each wore black leather dusters and leather pants. Niccolo jumped from the bed, wedging himself between them and Helena.

“I’m wondering why you were foolish enough to get a room in the same hotel as us,” Andrus asked.

Helena gasped and everyone looked at her. “You were about to take my virginity in a Super 8? You and I are going to have a long talk about that!”

Niccolo shrugged. “Figured the last place he’d look for us was the room underneath his. I also thought it would be easier for me to kill him at sunset when my strength returned. My gamble might still pay off.”

Andrus crossed his arms. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not planning on staying or dying.” He tilted his head to look past Niccolo at Helena. “Get dressed.”

Helena pulled the sheet from the bed as she rose. “Andrus, thank you for coming to rescue me and for everything you’ve done, but I’ve decided to stay with Niccolo.”

His eyes narrowed. “I said…get
dressed
.”

She stepped beside Niccolo and looked up at him with her large doey-eyes then back at Andrus.

Niccolo fought his urge to fight the Demilords. Part of him hoped and prayed for a miracle. He didn’t want to do this to Helena. But he had to.

Helena frowned at Andrus and his men. “Andrus. I’m sorry if you got the wrong impression last night, I was drunk. I know it’s no excuse, but it’s the honest truth. I love Niccolo. I want to stay with him. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you or still want to help you.” She stepped forward and placed her hand against Andrus’ chest. “What was done to you was wrong.”

He smiled wickedly. “I’m glad you feel that way because I plan on taking you whether you like it or not.”

“Andrus! What’s the matter with you?” She stepped back and turned toward Niccolo. It was clear she was expecting he’d sift her away. Instead, Niccolo stepped back.

A subtle rejection.

It was the hardest thing he’d ever done in his thirteen hundred years. Every cell in his body screamed for her, to take her away. He forced himself to bury his true emotions so she wouldn’t catch on. He’d have to carefully choose his words now. He needed to extinguish any hope she might ever have of him changing his mind. She needed to go with Andrus. If there was any hope for breaking the bond, the Demilord’s archives were it.

He too crossed his arms. “If he wants you, then he can have you. I cannot afford a war with the Demilords right now. My men’s lives are too valuable to lose—we have important work we must carry out.” Niccolo died on the inside—again—as he spoke the lie. He dipped his head towards Andrus. “She’s all yours.”

He tried not to look at her. He knew the pain on her face would be too much to stomach—worse than the torture likely awaiting him in the dungeons, worse that the thought of eternity without her. But this was the only way to truly save her.

“You’re a bastard, Niccolo. I hope you rot in hell.” She picked up her clothes from the heap on the floor and marched towards the door, pushing the enormous heathens out of the way. They snickered.

Andrus looked angrier than he had when he’d entered. “You’re bloody fool, you know that? But I’m glad you are.”

Niccolo nodded and then sifted away, back to the darkness of his life, hoping that Helena would find a way to break the bond soon. He couldn’t bear to feel her pain in addition to his own for very long.

Chapter 16

Niccolo stared out the second story window of Reyna’s Paris townhouse at the streetlights below. Couples strolled down the cobblestone sidewalk at a leisurely pace, enjoying the unusually warm evening. After leaving Helena, he’d sifted to his queen, hoping secretly she’d simply end his suffering and kill him; Helena’s anger and despair were like sharp knives jabbing at his heavy chest.

“Niccolo!” Reyna screamed as she stormed into the house.

Niccolo rolled his eyes. What idiotic request would she have this time? Maybe he should end everyone’s suffering and kill her instead. But that would never happen. The universe’s cruel joke. Although a well-trained vampire might be strong enough to kill her, no vampire would dare because if the queen were to die, any vampire carrying her blood would perish along with her. It was plausible that this meant the entire race. And
that
was why he suspected the gods had ultimately spared her; they believed the Creator would punish them if they wiped out one of his creations.

According to lore, the first vampires, or the Ancient Ones, were created in approximately 2600 B.C. at the same time the Mayans began to flourish and the Egyptians built Giza. The gods, at the time, had become drunk with arrogance as humans made it their primary goal in life to worship them and pay tribute to their greatness. Humans built pyramids and made sacrifices; they would do anything for the gods. As the gods became fat with vanity and arrogance, they began to neglect their true purpose: protecting the Creator’s children and their earthly playground. Evil among humans began to flourish.

The Creator, wanting to teach the gods a lesson, plucked out a piece of light from each of the fourteen gods. He then chose three human women and three men. The six humans inherited a piece of the gods’ strength, immortality, and their gift of manipulating the physical realm—giving them the ability to sift, control minds, and see human auras. To keep the Ancient Ones from growing too arrogant and powerful, as the gods had, he bound the Ancient Ones’ strength to the night.

Finally, many believed that the Creator gave the Ancient Ones the thirst for evil humans’ blood, as they were flourishing due to the gods’ neglect of their duties.

An elegant solution for a simple problem.

Yet, somehow the vampires evolved and developed a taste for innocence. The Pact was then created, though no one knows the exact date, to remind vampires of their true calling and purpose on Earth. If they did not stray from the path of righteousness, their souls would be spared.

“Niccolo! You useless lump of medieval crap!” Reyna called out, snapping Niccolo from his thoughts. Oh, hell. Who was he kidding? If all vampires were truly related to her, they’d all be going straight to hell in a hand basket.

“I am here, my queen, and there is no need to yell. I am quite capable of hearing you.” What he wouldn’t give to become deaf.

She charged into the room wearing hot pink overalls and leopard high-tops. “I order you to do something about this atrocity immediately! Immediately!” She stomped her foot. “Do you have any idea how much I just paid to fill up my gas tank?”

Niccolo sighed. “No, my queen—”

“One hundred and six Euro! This is outrageous! Nobody—and I mean nobody—rapes the queen’s wallet. Despicable humans!”

For once, Niccolo could actually see her point. There were certain elements of the human world that where out of their control: war, inflation, American Idol…all things which could cause major irritation to a vampire’s daily life.

“What do you propose I do, Your Majesty?”
And why the hell doesn’t she just save gas and sift anyway? Like me, she had the gift of being able to sift long distances.

She huffed and waved her hand through the air. “Figure. It. Out. What do I pay you for?”

Niccolo swallowed a laugh. “You do not pay me, Reyna. I am your unwilling slave, remember?”

“Well, I…” Flustered, she paused. “I pay you by allowing you to live. So don’t make me regret it. Kill whoever is running up the prices.”

Niccolo bowed his head. “
Sì
, Reyna. I’ll get right on that. But first, I need to notify you of a new coven of Obscuros reported near San Francisco. We’ve got a report that an unusual amount of day laborers have gone missing.”

This was always one of the metrics Niccolo and his men watched. Day laborers were easy prey because no one really tracked them. They often lived under false identities and roamed from state to state.

“I must investigate and handle the situation. Then I will…” he cleared his throat, finding it difficult to say the words, “handle the issue of high gas prices.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Fine. But I want hourly updates. Got it?”

Niccolo had to do what he could to appease the queen and avoid the dungeons for as long as possible. He only hoped Helena found a way to break their bond quickly.

He bowed his head. “As you wish.”

He sifted to the New York penthouse to prepare his weapons. He’d promised himself he’d stay away, but he could not resist. He missed Helena so badly that he could not feed—not even a drop of flavorless bagged blood. Nor could he sleep. It had been just two days since she’d left, but it felt like an eternity. He felt her sorrow and pain twenty-four hours a day. Could it be that she wept even in her sleep? The thought drove him mad. He hoped she’d find a way to break their bond—not that it would stop him from loving her, but at least he didn’t have to feel her pain too. At least she might be free to move on and find another worthy of her.

He lay on the bed in a plain white t-shirt and worn jeans, using her favorite cream sweater as a pillow so he could wallow in her scent. He stared at the ceiling, hands folded neatly over his stomach, wondering where he’d gone wrong in life. What had he done to deserve such a miserable fate?

Sì
, he had a dark past, but he learned the error of his ways and fought ruthlessly to protect the innocent. Countless lives—children, mothers, sons and daughters—surely the tens of thousands he’d saved meant something? Was it really so much to ask for a life wrapped in the loving warmth of a good woman? Helena had brought the light back into his soul. How cruel the universe was to give him something so spectacular only to make it impossible for him to keep her without destroying her.

The doorbell rang to save Niccolo from his personal pity party. He lethargically climbed out of bed and made his way to the door. Gods he was so hungry. So weak. Useless now.

Viktor would have to do the Obscuro hunting tonight.

He slowly opened the door. He peaked through the crack to see a young man standing in a windbreaker and long bicycle pants.

“
Sì
?”

“You Niccolo DiConti?”

Niccolo nodded.

The guy slipped an envelope through the crack. “I’ve been told I gotta wait for a reply.”

Niccolo tore open the letter. His eyes only took one second to register the words. His heart stopped beating for the length of one breath, and then his blood began to boil.

Bastard!
Andrus would die after a very, very long visit to Niccolo’s secret cavern in the bowels of Barcelona. No one there would hear the screams as he took the flesh from his bones nick by nick.

“Ain’t got all day man. What’s the answer?” asked the courier.

“Tell him I will rip his balls off, stuff them in his mouth, then tear off his head while I make him masticate!”

The courier raised one brow and stepped back. “Kay. Dude. Whatever.” He pulled out a walkie-talkie from pocket. “Hey. Found Mr. DiC...” dramatic pause, “onti. Says ‘he accepts.’” He looked back up at the seething Niccolo. “Don’t worry about the tip, man. And you should try laying off the ’roids and coffee. Not a good combo for you.”

***

“You’re a total ass. You know that, don’t you?” Helena barked at Andrus from across the deep-cherry antique dining table. The room was well lit by a large, but neglected crystal chandelier. Several corners of the spacious room hosted dusty marble statues of toga-clad men cupping handfuls of grapes raised toward the sky. Post Its, displaying words such as
douche bag
and
imbecile
, adorned the statues’ surfaces. Helena surmised these must be a few of the gods.
How mature.

Five of the six Demilord warriors sitting around the table snickered as Helena dressed Andrus down.

Helena’s eyes darted furiously at each of them, dishing a helping of “shut the hell up.”