Accidentally Married to…a Vampire?(Accidentally Yours #2)(3)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

What the bloody hell?

She continued talking without slowing her pace. “I saw all possible outcomes of your life, and there is a path that leads to your release from Her Majesty’s command.”

“Is not dying part of the equation?”

She kept up the rapid pace. “You’re dead already.”

Touché.

Cimil stopped abruptly. Niccolo plowed into her back.

“Ow!” she yelped. A small flock of black birds burst from the bush to her side, chirping noisily as they fled to the sky. He winced as the sunlight continued to heat his skin and weaken him.

She spun to face him. “Listen, Hellboy, we need to make this quick. I have garage sales to hit and naughty souls to claim. Decide.”

“I do not understand.” Was this goddess tormenting him for sport? Why did she call him “Hellboy?” How very rude!

She poked at his bare chest with a razor sharp fingernail. “You hate taking orders.”

Sì, true. After all, I am vampire.

“And even if you decided to listen like a good little boy, the odds of pulling this off are slim to none.”

I happen to excel at all things impossible. I am a vampire!

“So don’t come crying if you end up in your queen’s dungeon…”

Vampires do not cry, silly woman.

“Tortured three times a day for all eternity, which is where you have a ninety-nine point nine, nine, nine percent chance of landing if you don’t do exactly as I say.”

Actually, those numbers are quite encouraging. He thought his odds were somewhere between pigs flying and hell freezing over. “Buon. I understand. Tell me what you saw, what I must do.”

“First, you will have to find your true mate. Or, more accurately, she will find you. A human, by the way.”

“Human?” That is disappointing. But on the other hand, there certainly are more tedious creatures on the planet. Cimil, for example.

“Yesss.” Cimil narrowed her eyes. “And watch your tongue. I happen to be partial to humans—most, anyway. Clowns, not so much. Those evil bastards never stop smiling.”

Niccolo didn’t know what these “clowns” were, but he made a mental note to stay away if he ever encountered one. Sounded unpleasant.

“I did not say a word,” he retorted innocently.

“Good, because I’m warning, if you’re not in this for the long haul, jump off the Cimil-soul-train now and boogie your na**d body home.” Her eyes quickly shifted to a squawking toucan perched above on a branch. “Who the hell asked you? You can’t even dance. I mean, really.”

Niccolo scratched his chin, ignoring the bizarre behavior and the urge to wrap his hands around her neck. “My resolve will not waiver.”

She stifled a laugh. “Even though your kind considers such a fate, to be with a human—your food—a curse?” She began laughing again. “This particular female will be disobedient, demanding, and a pain in your cold, old, na**d ass. She’s also hotter than an apple pie fresh from the oven.”

His interest piqued. “You mean to say…she is beautiful?”

Cimil smiled. “Irresistible. Sharp as a whip. Sexy. Perfect for you in every way.”

Niccolo felt his insides twist with anticipation. She would be his? All his? Hmmm.

“Go on.”

She raised her brows. “Before you get all excited, Mr. Stud-tastic, there are rules. First, you must continue to uphold the Pact. No ifs, ands, or buts. That means you must keep that”—she pointed to his penis—“in your pants…when you find some, obviously. And those”—she pointed to his fangs—“in your mouth.”

The Pact had many parts to it, and he knew them all since he’d spent the last thousand years upholding its laws. It was central to maintaining the vampires’ existence; as long as they followed the commandments, they would be left alone by the gods to live. Rule one: Vampires could not kill innocent humans—Forbiddens—although the queen’s compliance to this law was highly questionable. In any case, even the most honorable of vampires were known to lose control in the throes of feeding or passion. Therefore, those activities with Forbiddens were strictly off limits, too. The only exception was for those mated to a Forbidden—practically unheard of—in which case, a careful, consensual nip here or there was allowed, but nothing more.

“Done,” he said. “I will refrain from biting without her permission. Nor will I sleep with her until she has been turned.”

“Not so fast, Tomcat,” she added. “No biting, even if she begs. And she must be turned with her permission on the anniversary of your third month together. That very same day. Understand?”

“Why three months?” he questioned.

“Hey buddy, my gig is prophecies and hunting for garage sales. I don’t make the signs, I just follow them.” She shrugged. “Any whooo, the rest is up to you.” She turned and continued marching forward, quickening her pace. “So. You in?”

Niccolo looked from side to side. “In? In what?”

“Yes. In. Are you onboard? Ready to throw down. Roll the dice. Ride that crazy cow called life and make her your bitch?”

Niccolo frowned. Her colloquialisms were simply offensive. And this coming from a ruthless vampire. “You are asking if I am committed. Sì?”

“Siii.” She rolled her eyes.

What other choice did he have? Besides, he did not believe in this ridiculous mate business. He had known tens of thousands of vampires over his existence, but only a dozen or so claimed to have found their true mate. It was extremely rare. And for those few, he saw no evidence they were anything more than contented couples who’d beaten the odds. There was no cosmic force at play.

As for his “mate” being human, he could find a way to cope temporarily. Sure, humans were only a step up from a cow or goat one would eat or perhaps keep as a favorite farm-pet; however, he wouldn’t be the first immortal to bear the shame of coupling with a human. It was manageable. Especially if she happened to be beautiful.

Whoever she was, he would woo her, set her up with only the finest of things, and after the three months were up, he’d have her begging to be turned. Once he was free from the queen, he had ample resources to provide his mate with a comfortable, separate life for eternity. Everyone would win. Everyone would be happy.

How doing all this could possibly free him from being that festering bunion of a queen’s general, he had no clue. He’d been warned that Cimil’s instructions were cruel at best, fatal at worst, and required an extreme leap of faith. But at this point, anything was worth trying. Hell, if he failed, there was always death. He hoped. The queen’s dungeons were notoriously hellish.