Accidentally Married to…a Vampire?(Accidentally Yours #2)(43)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

Clutching the sides of her head, Helena scowled as he set her to her feet. “What the…Niccolo?”

Niccolo frowned. “Did you really believe that demon would keep you from me? Not even the loss of your phone or the sun will stop me.”

“You have no right to snatch me away like that. You have no right to me at all!” She stomped her foot. “Ow!” Her hands returned to the sides of her head.

Niccolo grabbed her shoulders. “Did he hurt you?”

Her eyes darted to his face then narrowed into tight slits. “No. You did…And the tequila.”

“I have tried again and again to explain—to apologize for my words. But I am not the one being unfaithful, Helena. You are my wife, yet I find you kissing another man! In bed with him! A Demilord no less!”

Helena winced. “I don’t belong to you, Niccolo,” she whispered acerbically. “I don’t care about your vampire rules. We. Are. Not. Married.”

Niccolo felt his chest cave. “You really want to be with him?” he said, his voice serrated.

“No! The kiss was—I was drunk, and he was…I don’t know why I kissed him.”

Was that the truth? Niccolo recalled feeling her lust when she was kissing Andrus. He reached with his mind into hers. He sensed no deception from her, only confusion.

He pulled her to him and whispered, “Helena, I’m begging you to stop this madness and come back with me.”

“Don’t,” she hissed. “I gave you everything. My trust. My love. But instead of returning it, you treated me like a child. And don’t tell me it was all for my safety because Andrus was more than happy to share his story, and I’m just fine!”

Niccolo froze. “He told you of his origins?”

Helena nodded.

“Then you know about”—he looked up at the sky—“them.”

She nodded, “I know.”

Niccolo’s mind windmilled. Cimil had been very clear that in order for the prophecy to play out, he had to follow the Pact to the letter of the law. He couldn’t tell her anything about their world. Technically, mortals weren’t even supposed to know of their existence—his or the gods’. They believed it would cause chaos if humans discovered they weren’t at the top of the food chain. Secrecy was, therefore, written into The Pact.

Niccolo shook his head. Buon, all is not lost. I didn’t break the rules, Andrus did.

He brushed her lower lip with his thumb. “Then I must tell you that they could be watching, my love. And they will not be pleased of your knowing about them. It is forbidden.”

She swatted his hand away. “Oh, I get it. Now you’re going to tell that the only way for me to live is to become like you?” She turned away and began marching barefoot thought the thick brush. “Nice try, Niccolo.”

With lightening speed, he scooped her into his arms and pulled her back into the shade, tightly against his body. “I would never lie to you, Helena.” His dark eyes stared down at her.

Her head was tilted up as she squirmed against him. “Let me go!”

“No!” Niccolo roared. “I will not permit you to go back to that beast. I will not permit him to touch you again.”

“You can’t sift me, and you can’t travel far during the daytime, so you can’t make me go anywhere with you.”

“Then I will wait here until he comes for you, and I will fight him.”

Helena screamed, “No!”

She wanted to protect Andrus? He swallowed hard as doubt filled his mind again. Had he misread her before?

“You love him?” he asked.

Her eyes narrowed. “No. I don’t love him. I just don’t want anyone to die. Especially over me. But I do want to be free, and Andrus is my ticket.”

Her ticket away from him. The words stung. Maybe he should let her go, but…“The Demilord’s intentions cannot be honorable; they have no honor. They are nothing but hired guns.”

“Okay, Executioner. Why don’t you tell me all about that? How you’re not the hired gun for your queen. Or how you haven’t killed anyone because you were ordered to.”

That bastard Andrus had told her, and now Helena was disgusted. So that was it. That was the reason she was rejecting him. And it stung like hell.

Then, it hit him. Hard. You love her. It wasn’t jealousy or his male ego. Impossible! I’m in love with a human? Sure. Before, he’d wanted her. He felt endless lust for the woman. After all, they were bonded. But now…he loved her? He truly loved her.

He clutched at his chest. It felt warm for the first time in thirteen hundred years.

“Helena, I have something to tell you, and you will listen without uttering one word until I have shared what I need to say.”

She huffed.

He took that as a yes.

“First,” he announced, “I am going to tell you my story, and then I am going to tell how you’ve changed my life, and how much I love you.”

“You—you love me?” she muttered.

Smiling warmly, he nodded and stroked her cheek. “We are not to that part of the story, yet, my love. But be patient.”

***

The Story of Niccolo:

He hadn’t always been the coldhearted vampire known by his closest and dearest friends as the Niccolo the Executioner. Roughly thirteen-hundred years ago, he’d been a coldhearted soldier and the fifth son of a nobleman from the coastal town of Genoa in Northern Italy. The country was divided at the time into the Lombard Kingdom and the Byzantine Empire. His eldest brother was in line to inherit his father’s title and lands.

So like his other three brothers, Niccolo chose a soldier’s life. War was plentiful, and they were constantly fending off attacks from the Franks to the north. By the time he was thirty-two, he’d fought hundreds of battles and earned a fierce reputation. Some said the gods protected him, that he was indestructible. For this, he was feared by all and his men were loyal.

When he received word that his father’s lands had been repeatedly raided by Vikings—yes, Vikings, of all bloody people—he headed home immediately with half his regiment, leaving the other half behind with his third eldest brother to protect the border.

On the second bone-chilling night of the journey, he and his men awoke to the horrible cries of a woman. Niccolo gathered his sword and charged into the darkness of the grassy hills, able to see only the gray shadows produced by the moon on that overcast night. Before he knew what hit him, he was knocked off his feet and plucked from the dirt. His body, immobilized by something powerful, moved through the air with such speed that he was sure the devil himself had taken him, intending to drag him all the way to hell.