Accidentally Married to…a Vampire?(Accidentally Yours #2)(29)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

Pang. Again that stupid pang when she thought of life without Niccolo.

Her cell phone suddenly vibrated again. She dug it from her front jean pocket, expecting another text from her mother, but instead saw: I warned you, Helena. You cannot hide from me. I will find you. I will always find you. You are mine.

Helena fumed. “Arrogant son of a…”

She texted in reply: Not yours. Never was. Never will be.

He replied, I’m sorry for what happened. Please, come back.

Too late, Vampire. It’s over.

Several moments passed before he replied. Tell me where you are before someone gets hurt.

Her heart sank. Was he really threatening her?

Andrus glanced at her several times, before saying, “It’s your vampire, isn’t it? He’s threatening you.”

“He’s just mad. It’s the bond, that’s all. He’ll get over it once it’s broken.” Ironically, she felt embarrassed by his behavior.

Andrus raised one brow. “I’m sorry. I know your situation is not easy.”

Helena shrugged. “I’m sorry, too. I wish things had ended differently.” She ran her hands through her tangled curls and flipped down the sun visor to inspect her face. The bags under her eyes said it all. “So, which airport are we going to? Midway or O’Hare?”

Andrus smiled at her unexpectedly. “We are driving. I don’t fly.”

“Don’t fly?”

He shook his head. “No. It is…unnatural.”

Okay. That was strange coming from someone who was obviously so…unnatural or, well, supernatural. “But driving to San Francisco will take days.”

“Yes,” he said firmly. “This will give us plenty of time to talk. I will teach you what you need to know, and you will answer my questions.”

Why did Helena suddenly feel like she was betraying Niccolo by spending several days alone in a car with a devastatingly gorgeous man? Her mouth went dry. She turned her head toward the backseat to grab her water bottle from her pack. “Oh. Come on! I left my backpack on the bus.”

According to Darwin, you’re a prime candidate for extinction. Too stupid to live! Could she be any more forgetful and ridiculous? How about predictable? She let out a long sigh. Cut yourself some slack, you’ve gone through some major trauma. Well, what did it matter? She was going to have to leave her life behind anyway. Again.

As if reading her thoughts, Andrus said, “Material things are replaceable, Helena. You can always start over as long as you have control of your life.”

He was right. That’s what she needed, to be in control again. She wasn’t a helpless victim of this bond she now shared with a vampire. She was smart—yes, yes. Forgetful at times, too, but—she was also resilient, resourceful, and determined.

“What do you want to know first?” she asked.

***

Helena was beginning to notice how everything Andrus said was devoid of emotion. He’d asked simple questions about Niccolo and Helena’s day-to-day life—not much to tell. He asked about Niccolo’s work patterns, how many men guarded her, and if she’d ever heard any particularly strange conversations.

“Am I boring you?” she finally asked.

Andrus made a little shrug.

“Well,” she said. “I never promised you any juicy information. It’s not my fault they wouldn’t tell me anything.”

Andrus nodded. “It is strictly forbid for humans to know anything about their world. Leaking such information is punishable by death.”

“Why can you tell me everything, but he can’t?”

Andrus answered, “I tell you what you need to know, not everything.”

“Even so.”

He shrugged. “There is no punishment anyone can inflict worse than what’s already been done.”

His answer made Helena’s skin crawl. “Done?”

Andrus turned his head, his golden eyes reflecting the hatred lurking inside him. “They stole something from me.”

Who’s they? Helena asked him to elaborate, but he ignored the question. Helena let it go. Clearly, talking about it pained him.

After several quiet moments, Andrus abruptly turned off the highway and insisted she buy supplies. Their first stop had been the drugstore for toothpaste and other toiletries. Now he wanted her to buy clothes.

Helena reluctantly took the roll of bills from Andrus as he ushered her towards the front door of the trendy looking boutique just east of Chicago in the burbs. “I’m paying you back for this—”

“No need,” he objected. “You’re doing me a favor. Three days in a car together, remember? Please, the store is closing in fifteen minutes, and more importantly, it is now dark. I do not know how closely they are following behind, nor how many he’ll send,” Andrus’ voice held no hint of concern. He was merely stating the facts.

Andrus crossed his arms over his broad chest and turned his back to stand guard in front of the store.

She then noticed how tall he was; maybe six-three? The heavy leather boots he wore made him appear taller.

“My boyfriend loathes shopping, too.”

Helena turned and saw a thin brunette with heavy, black eye make-up standing behind the counter. Helena chuckled nervously. “Oh, he’s…” not my boyfriend, she was about to say. Never mind, doesn’t matter. “Yeah, he’s completely allergic to shopping.”

The clerk smiled. “The shop closes in ten. But if you need a few extra minutes, I’m just straightening up; so no problem.”

Helena nodded and headed straight for the stack of jeans and tees. They had a small selection of sexy little lace bras and thongs. Right now she’d give anything for a pair of comfort grannies and cotton tank-bras, but there were none. She shrugged, added a black thirty-four C pushup to the pile in her arms, and then followed the sign to the dressing rooms.

She hung the items on the hook, removed her sweater, and tried on the bra. It was just like one she’d purchased recently, hoping Niccolo might see her in it. But he never had. Technically, they’d barely been to first base. That was outrageous considering they were technically married in vampire-world. And weren’t vampires supposed to live for seduction? Maybe she wasn’t good—

“That bra is delectable on you.”

Helena jumped. Niccolo stood directly behind her, elegantly poised against the full-length mirror, arms casually crossed over his powerful chest. He wore plain low-slung jeans—blue for once, not black—and a snug light gray sweater. His thick black hair was loose, slightly wild, and hanging below his collar. He looked incredibly sexy. And angry.