Accidentally Married to…a Vampire?(Accidentally Yours #2)(33)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

***

Helena sat tightly wound on the edge of the queen size bed, staring at the dark carpet while listening to water hum through the pipes as Andrus showered. Now alone, that pang—stupid, goddamned pang!—was too noticeable to ignore.

It was silly to feel a sense of loss for something she never had, but she couldn’t ignore it. Absurdly, she thought about how perfect her life would be if she could combine Niccolo’s strength and looks with someone more open and caring. Maybe, once upon a time, he’d been that man. He had a mother, right? He probably loved her with tenderness and compassion before he’d been turned. Maybe Helena could help him remember those lost pieces of his humanity.

“Hopeless.” She sighed. “I’m totally hopeless! He wants to turn me into a vampire, and I want to turn him back into a human.”

Helena quickly slipped off her jeans, thinking to take advantage of Andrus’ shower and change into the baggy tee and yoga pants she’d bought at the clothing store.

“I see I’m just in time,” Niccolo said, suddenly appearing in the corner of the room. He took several rapid steps toward her and cupped her cheek. “To lovingly wash every square inch of your creamy skin.”

“Niccolo. How the hell do you keep finding me?” Helena hissed, but her heart rejoiced. “I told you to leave me alone, and I meant it.” Sort of.

His dark eyes narrowed. “I cannot do that, mio cuore. We are bonded, and until my last breath, I will think of nothing but you.”

“Good for you, Vampire. But not my problem, and considering you don’t love me, not sure it’s yours either.”

He frowned. “Please, my bride, let me explain. My heart is blackened by my world. It barely beats now, but you, you bring light to the darkness I’ve endured for over a thousand years. It is the closest thing to love I will ever know, and this has to be enough for you. You must—” he froze.

The water stopped running.

Oh hell! Andrus! She’d almost forgotten he was there. What would Niccolo do if he found out she was sharing a room with another man? She hadn’t wanted one room, but Andrus insisted and made it clear he’d be sleeping on the floor. No biggie. Until now. Niccolo would kill him.

“Go! Now!” she screamed at Niccolo.

“You—you…” he growled. It was a dark, deadly growl that made Helena shiver down to her bones. “Someone is here with you?”

Helena made a jerky nod. No use in lying. Niccolo could probably smell Andrus. But what the hell was she going to do?

Wait! He has no right to be here. He’s the one who threw your heart under a bus.

Suddenly, the bathroom door burst open. Andrus stood firmly in the doorway wearing nothing but a scowl and a white towel around his waist. He gripped a sword in each hand. Had he been carrying them when he’d entered the bathroom? Helena wondered. She didn’t recall seeing any swords. And who took showers with weapons? What the hell was Andrus?

Helena wedged herself between the two men, holding out her arms. She swiveled her head in Niccolo’s direction. “You have no right! I don’t belong to you!”

Niccolo, too, held a sword in each hand.

Where did he get those?

“Move, Helena,” Niccolo ordered. “I’m going to kill the son of a bitch. No one touches you and lives to take another breath.”

“Bring it, Vampire!” Andrus’ jaw flexed. “I’ve been hoping for another head—or in your case, ball of dust—to add to my collection.”

Helena noted that whatever Andrus was, being afraid of vampires wasn’t on the list. That only meant one thing: he was more dangerous. Or believed he was. In any case, Helena felt one hundred percent, bona fide pissed off. How dare Niccolo act like he had a right to her. After he treated her like a child. Manipulated her. Refused to trust her!

The two men raised their arms, weapons high in the air, and closed in—despite Helena acting as their buffer. At any moment, one of them would toss her aside and begin brawling. She had to think of something fast. Yes, she was angry at Niccolo, but she didn’t want anyone dying on her account.

Stupid men…males…dudes. Heck, whatever!

“Niccolo! No! Stop. Andrus isn’t…he’s…” She paused for a moment. “I may share a bond with you, but it isn’t real because my heart wants him! Don’t be such a sore loser.”

Her strategy was a huge gamble, but playing the one cord he valued—honor—might just get him to take a hike. She only had to convince Niccolo that Andrus had won her fair and square.

Arms still stretched, holding the two men at bay, Helena glanced at Andrus. His golden eyes were locked on Niccolo like two heat-seeking missiles. Would Andrus blow up her lie? Her head turned toward Niccolo who visibly seethed with anger.

Did he buy it? “Please, Niccolo. We’re through. Just go,” she begged.

Niccolo’s already dark eyes turned into pits of blackness. “Who the hell are you?” he asked directly to Andrus.

With a slight bow of his head, Andrus said, “I am the man who is going to collect your soul and f**k your woman. Not necessarily in that order, but both will involve screaming.”

Helena’s eyes went wide. What the…? Not only wasn’t Andrus going to blow up her lie, he was going to run to the hundredth-yard line, spike the ball, and call it his very own touchdown. Christ, he had a nasty streak.

Niccolo’s fangs stretched into tiny daggers that protruded from his mouth. “The only thing you will be doing is dying.”

“Well, Niccolo, The Executioner, I have yet to see a vampire best a Demilord.” Andrus smiled coolly. “Face it, ass**le, your minutes are numbered, and I am the one with the stopwatch. Tick tock. Tick tock.”

With that, Niccolo shot a glare at Helena, his expression had moved from furious to betrayed.

He vanished.

***

“What the hell is a Demilord, Andrus? What. The ever-loving. God forsaken. Hell. Is a damned…Demilord?!” she half-screamed, half-blubbered. Anything that could scare Niccolo away certainly scared the bajeepers out of her. What had she signed up for?

“We must go. Quickly! Before he returns with his men. I can’t fight off more than a few at once.” He ignored her question, instead focusing on repacking his duffel bag.

“Who said you need to defend me? Niccolo doesn’t want to harm me. He wants me to be his submissive, obedient immortal wife. And why did you call him ‘The Executioner?’”