Accidentally Married to…a Vampire?(Accidentally Yours #2)(15)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

Through the rear view mirror, he proudly glanced at his men in their black military-style jumpsuits and headsets.

He smiled to himself. Modern technology certainly was a nice perk in these times. For example, he always had the unique gift of sifting long distance—never knew why—but this used to do him little good when he required an army to take out a coven on the other side of the planet. Months were lost to logistics.

In this new age, everything had changed. Now there were planes and cars to transport his army. Now they had video conferencing and software to share interactive maps and battle plans.

This is…pure awesome.

“Sir,” Sentin said, “we have confirmation. Franc, their leader, is on his way. The other members of the coven are in the warehouse, all accounted for.”

Sentin, with jet black cropped hair, was his new junior lieutenant from Italy who’d been turned only seventy years earlier during what humans called World War II. Sentin, who’d been fighting with the English, was barely twenty when Viktor—his right hand and best comrade for over a millennium—found him after a bomb exploded near his bunker. Sentin was braver than most vampires ten times his age. He also had a sense of humor; something rare in the vampire world.

“Ready, sir?” Sentin said.

Niccolo nodded and strapped his swords to his back. Viktor glowered from the driver’s seat. Although he was an ancient Viking, Viktor wasn’t “old school” as the younger vampires called it. Viktor embraced everything modern, and that included automatic handguns with custom made wooden bullets and quirky sayings like, “That’s right, bitches! Who’s your bad-dy?”

“Stay close. Remember, the Obscuros have new tricks,” Viktor lectured.

Niccolo shrugged. “Buon. I’d expect nothing less. Makes for a more challenging fight, does it not?”

Viktor shook his head. “Not.”

“Bingo!” Sentin hollered. Everyone’s focus shifted to a monitor. A tall man with slicked back blond hair, wearing a black tailored suit, glided down the dusty sidewalk with a young woman in each arm. From the look of their attire, they’d just been out at what Viktor called a nightclub—a place where single humans went to listen to loud music, dance, overindulge in spirits, and find sexual partners for the evening. To Niccolo’s shock, even the educated females from good families partook in such social activities in these times.

Niccolo’s thoughts quickly flew to the angelic, feisty Helena for the fifteenth time that evening. It was increasingly difficult to stay focused. In fact, the Helena-channel constantly played in the back of his mind.

Was that normal for a vampire to feel for his mate? He craved her. He wanted to learn her, to savor her scent and bathe in her beauty. But he couldn’t. Not yet. Not without derailing the prophecy.

Yesterday, when he’d brought her to their new home, they’d only spent a few moments in the same room before he had to run like a weak, pathetic fool lacking control.

The sound of Viktor clearing his throat startled him.

“One moment,” Niccolo snarled.

“I think we’ve waited long enough,” Viktor growled under his breath.

He understood Viktor’s true meaning. Niccolo’s absence had been particularly hard on Viktor, especially having had to deal with the queen on his own. Viktor’s hide was still chapped—as they liked to say now—even though he understood Niccolo had not intentionally turned his back on him.

“Any day now?” Viktor prodded.

“Sì, sì. Do not get your…” Niccolo paused to recall the exact phrase. “Get your balls in a bunch.”

Viktor shook his head. “Panties.”

Niccolo frowned. “Why would you wear panties? Aren’t those for females?”

Viktor growled. “Can we go now?”

“Yes, but I insist you tell me more about your man-panties later.”

The men in the van chuckled under their breath. Viktor’s body tensed as though he was about to lunge for Niccolo.

Niccolo shrugged. He supposed Viktor was acting so irritable because he was anxious to get the job done. This is what he always admired about the man; when it came to killing, he was all about efficiency and execution. That’s why Viktor was his most trusted friend and still had a head; no one talked to Niccolo that way, except Viktor. Indeed, Viktor was more like a brother. He was also the reason the queen’s army hadn’t completely gone to shit during Niccolo’s “vacation.”

Niccolo straightened his back. “On the count of three. One. Two….” He sifted to the warehouse entrance and then entered the dark, dank building. His senses flared to life immediately. The pupils of his dark eyes dilated on command, picking up every shadow, every movement. His lungs pumped only enough air to detect the smell of his enemies—Obscuros.

He slipped to the side of the door and hid behind a large, wooden crate. There was no noise inside the abandoned warehouse except for the nearly silent gusts from the air being displaced as his men swept in behind him, taking their positions. Another vampire would mistake their movements for a mouse skittering across the floor.

Niccolo waited the agreed six seconds, sampling the scents in the air, before deciding the ground floor was secure. Most likely, the Obscuros were in the basement.

Niccolo gave the all clear and motioned for the men to begin searching silently for a door or stairs.

Within seconds, Viktor blew into the air. The signal. To the untrained ear, it was the wind whistling through the gaps under a door.

The men moved with blurring speed toward Viktor and fell in behind him.

Niccolo caught the sound that had drawn Viktor’s attention: the low rumble of men talking and…crying?

Niccolo shrugged at Viktor. No doubt it was odd, but what were they going to do? They were warriors, and whatever was causing a bunch of grown Obscuro males to cry and…talk, well, they could handle it. He hoped.

Niccolo held up his palm, signaling for the other men to stay put. He quickly found a set of narrow cement stairs and sifted part of the way down, remaining out of sight as he listened to the conversation and whimpering.

One man, who the others referred to as Luis, was trying to defend his actions. “But as hard as I try, my victims only laugh at me when I show myself,” he sobbed. “How can any self-respecting vampire face himself knowing his food doesn’t take him seriously?”

There was a low rumble of agreement from several voices in the room.

“Luis!” Another male barked. “How many times do I have to tell you? Image is everything! You dress like a biology professor and speak like Mr. Rogers. Of course, they don’t fear you! You’re there to kill them, not….not—teach them the ABC’s!”