Accidentally Married To...a Vampire?

  Then Helena’s eyes focused on something else she couldn’t quite grasp. In the middle of the room, lying across a stone altar, was a naked man with dark symbols tattooed down the length of one arm. But he was not just any man. He was a male so perfect that words would catfight each other just for the honor of describing him. He was a god. A bona fide deity. He had to be. Because a normal man wouldn’t give her the urge to fall to her knees and worship at his feet. Or drool.

  The torchlight licked his sculpted cheekbones, angular jaw, and full, sensual lips. Every capacious curve and ripple of hard muscle looked to be packed with raw power, and his size left no doubt that he’d been built in another time. A time when giant warriors roamed the earth, looking to rescue lame tourists wandering the Mexican jungle at night.

  In my dreams. Wait…this is a dream! It has to be.

  “Move closer my sweet, delicious woman.” The deep voice radiated from every direction, filling the room.

  Helena’s blood pressure crashed to the floor. She gasped as the weight of her body slammed back against the cold chamber wall to keep from falling.

  “Hel-hello? Can you hear me?” Fists clenched, Helena waited for a response, her eyes continuing to soak him in. Every inch of him.

  Was he real? No, he must be a statue. Too perfect. His full lips were built to nuzzle a woman’s neck. Specifically, her neck. And that hair—thick, long waves of black satin—was the kind a woman could grab fistfuls of while being driven insane by those lips.

  Then there were the diamond-cut grooves of his abs, his perfectly shaped navel, the fine dark hair adorning his lower belly that trailed down to his awe-inspiring man-gear. The size and thickness, even in its slumbering state, was something women dreamed of and scores of artists throughout history attempted to immortalize in marble. He was every woman’s fantasy, she thought. And by every woman, she meant hers…’Cause I’m not gonna share.

  “Kiss me, Helena,” the seductive voice rumbled.

  Had the man said her name? No. Clearly, his lips hadn’t moved. The margarita amoebas were attacking her brain and she was losing her mind.

  “Kiss me, woman. I command you,” the voice echoed, this time compelling her to obey.

  Helena’s survival instincts gave her a hard kick, jarring her back into the horrific reality of the situation. But as she tried to regain control of her body, her tongue slipped from her mouth and wet her lips.

  Traitorous tongue. Backstabbing lips. What the hell are you doing? Her body inched closer.

  “Sì, that is it, my love. I can smell your blood.”

  Blood? What the...? Every nerve in her body fired on all cylinders, but she couldn’t run even if her hair had been on fire. It seemed the harder she fought, the stronger the force controlling her became.

  “Brush it against my lips, my love. I want to taste you when you kiss me.”

  Without realizing it, her hand stretched down to coat her fingertips with the thick, nearly dried blood from her knee. Trembling, she smeared it over his lips.

  “Now, kiss me, my love. Awaken me, my bride.”

  “No! No! Let me go!” Helena struggled, but her body’s betrayal persisted. Her head dipped, and her lips rested on his sensuous mouth. In that instant, the compelling force dissipated and her entire body lit up into one glorious pyre of life.

  Had she been asleep the last twenty-four years? Because she could swear she’d just taken her first breath. Ever.

  Holy hell, what was that?

  The torches flickered, and the wind kicked up around her.

  The altar was empty.

  She crumbled to the cold, dusty floor. A pair of strong hands gripped her shoulders from behind.

  “Oh, Christ. You…you’re behind me, aren’t you?” she whispered.

  The deep dark voice replied, “Sì, my love. Stand, and let me see my mate.”

  Helena slowly rose to face the naked god behind her.

  Chapter 2

  Arms limp at her sides, knees shaking, Helena found herself staring straight up a cliff of solid muscles into the face of the most masculine creature she’d ever seen. She’d been impressed by the sight of him just lying there dormant. But awake? That was another story completely. One to tell her wine tasting slash historical romance book club buddies—The Wino Wenches.

  “The expression displayed on your lovely face,” he said with a hint of amusement in his eyes, “indicates you are as confused as I. Let us make proper introductions. Then we shall sort through the particulars of our situation.” He made a slight bow of his head and then kissed the inside of her wrist. “I am Niccolo DiConti. Very pleased to meet you.”

  His touch sent a sharp jolt through her arm, causing her insides to liquefy.

  She snapped her hand back and scuttled against the cold, damp wall, trying to assess the situation. She’d never seen a man take up so much space. He didn’t simply eclipse her five-foot-four frame; he engulfed her with his presence.

  Was he a threat? If yes, then why did she want to throw herself in his arms and treat him like her favorite boardwalk ride? Could stay on that dang Tilta-Whirl all day long.

  Her skin felt flushed, the muscles deep inside fluttered and constricted, and her nipples perked. For darn certain, that other sensation (which she was not going to think about) was her body telling her the time had come to give away that virginity of hers—just like those size seven jeans in the back of her closet.

  How unkind to keep something someone else could put to good use. Greedy, greedy girl.

  But she was not going to think about that. She should run. Everything about him screamed danger.

  Her eyes made another sweep over his entire bare length. Darn it. She couldn’t help herself from looking. She'd never seen a man like him.

  His dark eyes twinkled as he crossed his arms over his broad chest and arched one sable brow, “Pleased by what you see, then?”

  Oh, yes.

  “No.” She shook her head. “Who the hell are you?” Her eyes continued basking in every scrumptious detail. Is that? Is he? Oh…Yes, he is. Helena felt her face turn red hot. She quickly looked away as erotic images involving his erection flooded her imagination. What was happening to her? Her mind wasn’t normally in the gutter, or in this case, Lady-Pervert Land. On the other hand, this situation felt far from normal. Definitely disturbing. Maybe Lady-Pervert Land was her happy place. She'd always wondered where it was.

  “Your eyes and body betray your words. Why do you deny your desire?” His dark gaze bore down as he studied her with curiosity.

  Dammit. She needed to clear her mind, but who could think with that heavenly smell wafting through the air? She could taste him on her tongue. Was that vanilla? Cinnamon? God save her, the man smelled like cookies. Gooey, warm, fresh out of heaven man-cookies.

  She had to get a hold of herself. She had to run. Did she have a chance of making it out alive? Something told her “no.” Definitely no. The chamber exit, a narrow doorway, led to an even narrower passage that would dump her back into the dark jungle. She wouldn’t make it two feet before he barreled down on her with those powerful thighs.

  Yes, powerful thighs. Ummm. She ground her palm into her forehead. Tramp! Get a hold of yourself.

  She’d have to find a way out. She had to be strong, keep her wits.

  She lifted her chin and glared at him defiantly. The fickle torchlight offered another tempting glimpse of his dark, probing eyes, and in that brief moment, she felt like he was staring right into her very soul.

  “You are so lovely.” He reached out and brushed her cheek. “Your eyes, they are the color of exotic sapphires.” He slid a curl between his fingers. “And your hair is like the sun. I never imagined...”

  She didn’t recognize the accent. Mediterranean or Spanish, perhaps? No. His name sounded Italian. Regardless of origin, his voice curled her toes just like the rest of him.

  “Imagined?” she whispered.

  The corner of his mouth twitched with an arrogant smirk.
“You are my mate, sì?”

  “Mate?” Like, as in…first? Buddy? Other shoe?

  Niccolo took another small step forward, lightly pressing his body, and every hard part in between, against hers. Her body instantly responded with prickly goose bumps.

  “Your mate,” he said, then slowly bent his head to nuzzle her neck. “Designed by fate and the universe to be your ideal companion in every way.” His breath tickled her neck. He seemed to be completely absorbed in the act of nuzzling. “Mio cuore, don’t you believe in such a thing?" he continued in a low, seductive voice. “Human women were once enthralled by such a notion.”

  Human? With that word, Helena felt her body knot up with howls of self-preservation. She managed to get a hold of herself and push him away.

  He grumbled in protest.

  “Why did you just say ‘human’ like that? And what does ‘mio cuore’ mean?” she asked with a breathy voice.

  “My heart. It means my heart—Cimil did not explain the situation?” he asked.

  Helena shook her head. “Who's Cimil?”

  “Most interesting.” He paused as if about to explain, but instead reached out to clutch another lock of her hair. He bent down slowly and inhaled. “What is the date, my golden-haired one?”

  This has to be a dream. There's no other explanation. But why does everything feel so real? Why do I feel so alive?

  Not knowing what else to do, she simply answered, “August tenth.”

  His hungry eyes raked over her neck then down to her breasts. He reached out and grabbed the hem of her neckline. He studied the knit fabric with curiosity as he’d done with her hair, feeling its texture between his thick thumb and index finger.

  “Year?” he asked.

  Maybe he was mad and she’d gone mad too? Or, when she fell in the jungle, she’d hit her noggin on a rock. Head injury. Yep, that had to be it.

  Again, Niccolo appeared to be amused by her reaction to him.

  “Year?” he repeated.

  Helena squirmed, sliding sideways against the rough wall to put space between her and the naked tower of muscles with the giant throbbing man-gear she so wanted to inappropriately grope.

  “Twenty-twelve,” she answered.

  A blaze of fury engulfed his face. He slammed his fist into the stone wall behind her, causing the entire temple to quake. Dust and small chunks of stone rained down.

  “Three hundred years? Three hundred bloody years! Bloody inferno!” he roared at the ceiling.

  Terrified, she dropped to the floor and covered her head as the structure shook. The mental tug-of-war between her dreamlike-lust and survival instincts finally ended. He must be mad. She had to run before he killed her.

  ***

  When Niccolo awoke, he couldn’t have been more confused. He had no clue how he had ended up in that dark, musty chamber with odd-looking objects and priceless treasures, but he knew whom to blame.

  Cimil.

  He recalled her pointy little hand waving in his face.

  Next thing he knew, he could sense the human woman. She had entered his dreams like a bolt of lightning. And when she smeared that delicious, floral-scented blood on his lips and kissed him, the world burst to life again. He sensed the pulse of every living creature for miles. And the smells—every leaf, fleck of dirt, drop of rain, and…her—he could smell them all. It was as though he’d been dormant for centuries, suddenly brought back to life by an angel of carnal temptation. The most gorgeous, sensuous female creature he’d ever laid eyes on. Her feminine scent, her warmth, everything about her filled his mind with erotic bliss.

  Bravo, buffoon! That is because you have been dormant for centuries, three of them, if anyone is counting. And she is the first warm-blooded creature you have encountered. His body felt famished. She was food. Breathtaking, female food with silky golden spirals that framed her delicate sun-kissed face, and a curvy, juicy little body that made his cock harder than the stones which entombed him; but nonetheless, food.

  But why put me to sleep for three hundred years? he wondered. Cristo sacro! Cimil must be mad. Who had been keeping the population of Obscuros at bay? What had happened to his men? Bloody Cristo sacro.

  And surely there would be no chance of freedom now. While dormant vampires were like the dead and did not emit any energy, once awake their blood served as a beacon to their makers. The queen would use their bond to hunt and then disembowel him. Afterward, she would put him back together and haul him off to her dungeon where she’d deprive him of blood so he would not heal, leaving him in agony for eternity. Death was the only sanctuary for him now. Maybe the female would assist him.

  He gathered himself together and looked down at the woman crumpled on the floor. So weak. Yet, so enticing. Just as Cimil had foretold.

  Unexpectedly, something inside him shifted. He could…feel her fear. He could taste the acid churning in her stomach and the adrenaline catapulting through her veins. An overwhelming urge to protect her surged deep within.

  “What have you done to me?” he whispered.

  Her sapphire blue eyes flashed up at him. “What have I done to you?”

  “Sì. I feel—I feel…you.” His mind simply couldn’t process the inundation of emotions. Was this some absurd joke? Or could she be…? Impossible! Mates do not exist.

  “I didn’t do anything,” she responded.

  Bloody inferno! There it is again. He could feel her confusion.

  He quickly reassessed the situation. If the slightest possibility existed that this mate nonsense was factual, then perhaps Cimil was not so mad after all. Cimil had cautioned he would not so easily accept a human.

  True.

  But if the prophecy was playing out as she had foreseen, then he still had a chance. Twelve weeks. Could he seduce the female into being turned by then?

  Idiota! Of course you can. You are a goddamned vampire. And a handsome one at that—so you’ve been told. And yes, he agreed.

  In any case, he would certainly enjoy conquering her.

  Just look at the female. She will make an enjoyable little pet, to be sure. He would not enjoy, however, resisting bedding her or drinking from her. That, he could see, would be a thorn in his side.

  He slowly kneeled and placed his hand on her shoulder, trying not to frighten her further. “Tell me, what is your name?”

  “Helena,” she answered. “But you knew that already.”

  I did? Why would she think that? She is confused. He mentally shrugged and then repeated her name. Heavens, she was gorgeous. By far the loveliest creature he’d ever seen.

  “Let me go. Please,” she whimpered.

  He swept away the dust from her forehead and then brushed his thumb over her full bottom lip—delicious, pink, supple, and meant for kissing. Just like her golden smooth-as-satin skin radiating with life.

  “I cannot do that,” he said.

  Slowly she rose from the ground, still trembling. Her eyes nervously flashed to his swollen manhood, which would only prolong its present state. It aroused him beyond belief when she looked at him with such lust.

  “Why not?” she asked with a nervous whisper.

  Because I haven’t bedded you yet. Would not want to deprive you of such a luxury.

  “Apparently,” he said, “I have waited three hundred years for you. So I have no intention of letting you go.”

  He cupped her face and leaned to kiss her.

  Chapter 3

  Helena’s tense body swooned when the force of his lips met hers. He pulled her greedily into to his hard frame and moved his strong hands to grip her waist. It felt like he had claimed her as his personal prize. It felt euphoric. Owned by a sex god!

  Wait! What the hell am I doing? She broke the kiss and pushed him away again. “This is insane. I don’t know who you are or how I got here, but you have to let me go. You have the wrong person.”

  He smiled devilishly. “Afraid not, my dear Helena. Fate has united us.”

  Helena raised her brow in ques
tion.

  “However, you are correct, bella. This is insanity. And as much as I would like to show you the depths of my lunacy—and the things it is asking me to do to your succulent body at this very moment—we must go. Before they come for me.”

  That sounded ominous. “Who are ‘they?’” Wait. Did she want to know?

  “It is forbidden to speak of such things to a human, but I vow the day will come when there will be no secrets between us.” The naked warrior held out his hand. “Come, mio cuore.”

  Helena shivered. Something about that explanation left her feeling substantially more terrified. Why couldn’t humans know? And what exactly was he? If the scientist in her had no answers, then better not stick around to find out.

  Helena nodded. She took his hand—it was cool to the touch, yet heated her skin at the same time—and followed him through the chamber toward the doorway. As they reached the passage, Helena nonchalantly dipped down and grabbed a golden statue. It reminded her of an Oscar. In fact, she could swear there was an inscription on its base.

  Sally Fields? Too dark to know for certain.

  She quickly jumped and struck Niccolo in the back of his head with all her strength. He stumbled to the side. She squeezed past him down the passage.

  The moment she burst from the temple into the night, the stupidity of her plan hit home. How far could she get?

  At least he was barefoot, bare everything—sigh—and she still had on her low tops. That might give her the advantage. Question was, would she find her way back to civilization? She had to try.

  Helena’s hands pushed frantically through rough branches and vines. They lashed at her face and scratched her arms and legs. She ran straight into a tree trunk.

  She cupped her nose. Ow! That hurt!

  Thankfully, it wasn’t broken.

  She slid around the enormous tree, panting and sweating. She continued on with her hands extended, wondering if running through the jungle, unable to see a goddamned thing, was actually more dangerous than trying her luck with that man. Were there any cliffs around here?