Accidentally Married to…a Vampire?(Accidentally Yours #2)(27)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

“I’m sorry, Niccolo,” Viktor explained with a hint of humor in his voice, “but your human is”—he paused—“sly. A very fitting mate for you. Speaking of, how are the wedding plans coming along? Are you going with the Gone with Wind or the Star Trek theme?”

Niccolo cringed. He was, as Viktor would say, “busted.” Attempting to make amends, the fiercest vampire in the world thought to surprise Helena with an extravagant theme wedding in Vegas. A suggestion from Sentin who insisted she’d enjoy the “hip scene.”

“Do you find this humorous? Do you?” He paused and took a breath. “Truth be told, my primary objective here is to conduct a little clean up.”

Niccolo suddenly felt sick again as the fresh memories assaulted him. The carnage left behind by the Obscuros was horrific. They’d attacked a large group of humans at a quinceañera—a fifteenth birthday party for a young woman—and slaughtered children, expectant mothers, the elderly…they spared no one.

“My apologies, Niccolo. I was only trying to lighten the mood. Has the team been able to bring Las Vegas back under control?”

Niccolo and the local team who were permanently stationed in Vegas—it needed constant monitoring—had mowed the vile Obscuros down, but he didn’t feel like reliving those memories. He knew Viktor would understand if he diverted the conversation.

“Control, no. This place—I simply do not understand it. The humans here wear giant cocktail glasses around their necks and insert exorbitant amounts of money into little machines that light up. I still cannot understand, however, why they call them ‘slut machines.’ Is because they steal your money?”

“I believe the correct name is ‘slot machine.’ They’re kind of fun…” As Viktor spoke, Niccolo’s mind involuntarily shifted back to the topic of Obscuros. According to his calculations, he’d personally executed two hundred rogue vampires in recent weeks; over a thousand had been killed by his soldiers, yet the list only grew longer each day. Niccolo needed to make a bigger dent. He’d heard all about the Demilords who’d supposedly been put in place to control the outbreak during his absence, but where were they? From what he could see, no one had been keeping the Obscuros in check. Suspicious, to say the least.

“It matters little what the machines are called,” Niccolo interjected. “This place is loathsome. But if a wedding here will please Helena, then I shall do this for her. Please tell me one of your men is tracking her.”

A long silence, then, “Not exactly. She slipped away too quickly. We couldn’t pick up her scent—it is pretty sunny today.”

“Inferno! I am in no mood to blindly sift all over the goddamned—”

“Don’t go ballistic,” Viktor added, “I gotcha covered—GPS tracking. I had it added to her phone—she busted into your office and took it back. I’ve been watching her movements via Internet. You can use the live satellite map to find a safe place to sift nearby—away from any structures—then, boom. You’re there.”

Thank the gods for her thievery and for this “GPS.”

“Where is she now?” Niccolo asked.

“Heading west toward the Windy City. I’ll send the link to your phone and get you hourly updates.”

“Buon. Grazie.”

Niccolo hung up and rubbed his hands over his face. He had to get her back quickly and make amends. He had only six days left until their three-month anniversary. She had to be turned willingly or the prophecy would not be fulfilled, and Niccolo’s one chance of leaving the queen would be lost.

That meant he’d never have the chance to know peace or a day of freedom. He’d never know Helena’s sweet body inside and out. His mind toggled through the catalog of fantasies awaiting their day in the spotlight. His standard: taking her for the first time over a bed of velvety red rose petals, the midnight crackle of a fireplace, the sweet scent of her arousal filling his lungs as he plunged himself repeatedly inside her. Then there was the fantasy of taking her in the shower, pinning her against the wall, her legs wrapped around his waist as she panted his name in his ear.

Niccolo grew hard for the fifth time that day and shifted himself.

Gods, he could not wait to bed her. Gods, he needed to buy looser pants. Otherwise, his c**k might not make it to their wedding night. Or, perhaps, he needed to stop thinking about her.

Idiota. You realize that’s impossible. Any second now you’re going to get the itch. You won’t be able to resist wanting to feel her with your mind.

His attempt to fight his craving for her, indeed, lasted all of one glorious second before he gave in. He focused to catch a whiff of her mind in the atmosphere. Distance dulled the connection, but it was always there.

Aaah, Helena… Right now, she’s annoyed, but no longer angry. In any case, the guilt was almost unbearable; he’d caused her pain. Thank the gods he didn’t love her. He couldn’t imagine how miserable he would be if they shared more than just a powerful bond and insatiable lust.

For a moment he considered using his gift to sift to her, but blind sifting was extremely risky. And sifting toward a moving target was unthinkable. He could end up landing inside a steel girder, slab of cement, or hit by a semi. No. He’d have to wait until she stopped moving and then do as Viktor suggested.

Niccolo suddenly flinched and released a growl from deep within his chest. He sensed a burgeoning lust radiating via their connection. She’d better be thinking of me.

Chapter 9

Helena stared out the dust-coated window of the black Hummer speeding west on Interstate-80, watching the sherbet sunset and chewing her thumbnail to the nub. She’d already surveyed everything inside the enormous tough-boy vehicle twice. A waste of time. The interior was spotless except for several discarded candy wrappers on the floor. There was nothing to tell her who this dark, brooding man truly was.

She quickly stole a glance of Andrus whose gaze was fixed on the road, sunglasses covering his eyes despite the darkening sky.

Of course he can see in the dark, she griped, all monsters can.

Earlier, he’d pulled off his leather coat and was now wearing a plain black tee and leather pants. With both hands firmly gripping the wheel, the thick muscles of his forearms flexed just enough for her to see every menacing rope. She noticed his appearance the first time she’d laid eyes on him. What woman wouldn’t? He was unusually handsome—in a dangerous to your heart kind of way—and built like a brick house.