Accidentally Married To...a Vampire?

  Why? Well, that was rule number six: no answers until, yes, after the transformation. Helena felt the anger and frustration beginning to take hold.

  Sentin appeared in the living room doorway with his standard levity. “Is it time to feed our human?”

  Niccolo whipped around in a blur. “How many times have I told you?” he screamed. “You are to call her Helena! Next time, you’ll pay with your tongue.”

  Helena grabbed Niccolo’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “It doesn’t bother me.” It actually did bother her. A lot. It made her feel like a pet. But yelling and violence bothered her more.

  Sentin held out his hands. “Jeez. Touchy-touchy. My apologies.”

  Niccolo dismissed Sentin and led Helena to the dining room where there was just one setting. Niccolo sat opposite her across the room-length mahogany table. He’d also forgotten to turn on the lights. Again. She could barely see him.

  Helena sighed. “Can’t you sit closer so I can see you and don’t have to yell?”

  “I can hear you just fine,” Niccolo responded. “And sitting this way is a sign of a distinguished upbringing. I am not a commoner, Helena.”

  Ugh! “No, it’s actually old fashioned and annoying,” she mumbled.

  Niccolo stared blankly. “I heard that.”

  “I’m sorry, but I like having you close,” she argued, “and you may not be a commoner, but I am.”

  Niccolo suddenly appeared at Helena’s side, taking her hand and placing a kiss in her palm. “You are anything but common, my bride.”

  Yes, I’m the lucky acorn who fell from the nut tree.

  Silver serving dish in hand, Sentin emerged from the kitchen with what looked like fettuccine alfredo. She had no clue where the vampire learned to cook, but he had flare. Except for Italian. He refused to cook with garlic. It was sort of ironic since he was Italian.

  Sentin served a heaping pile of creamy, buttery pasta mixed with bits of chicken and red and green vegetables—at least she thought they were that color; it was hard to see in the dark.

  Niccolo wrinkled his nose and poured himself a glass of red wine from the decanter set out in front of her.

  Helena loaded up her fork and took a mouth full of pasta. Yep. Missing garlic, but edible. She smiled at Sentin who was anxiously awaiting her reaction. “Yummm. Really good, Sentin. Thanks.”

  Pleased with himself, he practically floated from the dining room.

  She began attacking her food. God, she was famished! She’d passed on breakfast this morning because she’d been too busy writing in her scientific journal. She had pages and pages of things she’d learned over the weeks despite the vampires' attempts to be secretive. For example, they were more like wolves—pack animals—than they were the cold-blooded loners like Dracula. And there was a clear pecking order, usually associated with age, but sometimes according to physical skills. She’d overheard Viktor telling the other men that Sentin would lead some outing that evening because although he was the youngest, he “moved like a feather.” What an odd skill to value.

  But what astonished her most was how little she really knew about her husband to be. He wouldn’t tell her a thing: where was he from, who his parents were, if he had brothers and sisters he loved once. How about friends? He had to have some, right?

  Helena washed down her bite of pasta with a gulp of wine and noticed Niccolo was observing her eating.

  He had a frown plastered on his face. “Hungry?”

  She smiled sheepishly and dabbed her face with her napkin. “Niccolo, when you change me, can we have a dinner party so I can meet your friends?”

  “You've already met them.”

  “I have?”

  “My men,” he clarified.

  But she never saw them speak or show any signs of camaraderie.

  “However,” he continued, "we don’t do dinner parties. Not the kind you’re thinking of anyway. I will explain it all…after.”

  Helena wanted to gag at the thought of a bunch of vampires sitting around drinking blood from crystal goblets. Ick. “So, I won’t ever be inviting my girls over, will I?”

  Niccolo chuckled, “Not unless you intend on serving them as appetizers.”

  “Then, that would be a no.” Helena frowned and took another mouthful. Was he kidding? Would she really never see the girls again? No. She couldn’t let that happen. She’d visit them when they were home for Christmas. Maybe another nighttime bonfire? On second thought, that didn't go so well last time. Niccolo and she never spoke of the incident, but she still had anxiety over seeing those men dead. The degenerates deserved what they got, but it didn't make watching them die any easier. Vampires, on the other hand, seemed at ease with killing. That felt wrong somehow.

  “So, what do good vampires do with their time besides buying extravagant penthouses, hunting Obscuros, and saving tourists in distress?” she asked.

  His dark brows furrowed. “I cannot speak about my world. You know this. You already know too much for your own good.”

  Helena wanted to shout—they needed to talk and trust each other like real people! She needed to be treated like his equal, not kept like a pet. She was about to say so, but the moment she gazed into his deep espresso eyes, her anger evaporated.

  His expression had also transformed. He was thinking lusty thoughts. Not sure how, but she could tell.

  So, is that what vampires do with their time? Sex?

  She swallowed hard and crossed her legs while her mind flooded with images of bed-play, shower-play, floor, kitchen table, and in front of the fireplace-play. God she wanted him. She wanted to feel those reams of hard muscles. She wanted him stretched over her naked body. Writhing. Panting. Pumping.

  His trademark frown congealed on his face. “I cannot bed you, Helena. It is,” he paused, “for your own protection.”

  Dammit. He wanted her too, and she felt it.

  Helena didn’t believe for one moment that Niccolo would hurt her in the act of passion. She’d witnessed dozens of times how tender he could be with that indestructible, potent body. The way he moved around her, kissed her, touched her, something else was holding him back. It was the same something that caused him to behave as if he were molten lava one second and cardboard the next. But thanks to that effing rule number six—no telling humans about their world—she’d have to wait to find out the truth.

  “It’s not just that. I want to know why it’s for my protection. I want to know more about you,” she argued.

  Harsh emotion flickered in his eyes, and his face drained of warmth. He stood and pulled Helena to her feet and kissed her hard.

  Oh, yes. This was the sort of explanation she wanted: him holding her, their lips molding together. This was what she constantly craved—so painfully that sometimes she cried. But those were tears she could never shed in front of him… Rule number two...or is it number three?

  Ugh! This all felt so wrong. She was never so needy or weak before. She felt like she was on some insane paranormal hormone roller coaster. Or, perhaps it was more like Vampire Price is Right. In her right hand, she held her current life—a good deal—but behind Vampire Door number three was another life. It could be the old donkey with the sombrero—a life filled with darkness, death, no hope of children, or even a career. Or, the hidden prize behind the door could be eternity with the man she wanted, endless nights of passion. That was the prize she’d signed up for.

  Niccolo swept her away to the bed with mind-boggling speed and was suddenly lying at her side. He had already removed his sweater to give her a breathtaking glimpse of his thick strong arms and powerful chest.

  How'd he do that so quickly? Sneaky vampire—oooh.

  Niccolo lifted her sweater and began kissing her belly. God she was so confused. One minute he was pushing her away, chastising her for wanting him. The next he was provoking her, kissing her, and making her melt.

  This was all wrong. She had to stop this insane, dysfunctional game they were pla
ying. She needed honesty, and trust, and—

  Niccolo unsnapped the top button on her jeans.

  “Wait!”

  “Sì, my love?” He looked up at her with playful eyes.

  “Nope. Uh-uh.” She pushed his hands away.

  “I thought I might try kissing you in a few new places. Is this not what you want?”

  You bet your sweet immortal ass I do! “No!” She scooted away and rose from the bed. “You work constantly, but I don’t know what you do. I never know where you are or whom you’re with. Then you come back for a few hours, and then disappear again for days!”

  “We have gone over this, Helena. I cannot tell you these things. But I promise everything will be different afterward. Our wedding is in one week. In the meantime, I’d hoped I could make our time together more pleasing for you.”

  Was it possible he thought that was good enough? Their relationship was seriously lacking any substance. Sure, they were wildly attracted to each other, but lust wasn’t enough. Why wouldn’t he tell her what she needed to know? She’d put her complete trust in him and left her life behind.

  In return, he gave her rules, bodyguards, and material things she didn't care about. And two months basically living without him...

  “That’s not the point, I need—”

  “Bei vestiti?” he interrupted enthusiastically.

  Helena shot him a deer-in-headlights look.

  “More beautiful clothes?” he translated. “I can have the men take you shopping anywhere you like. Or, do you want me to send a decorator? I’m not so attached to this modernist look, if that’s what worries you. You can change the furnishings to any style—except Victorian. I’m very pleased to have slept through that frilly mess of an era. But the penthouse is yours. My wedding gift to you.”

  Helena frowned. She never cared about material things. Sure, being with a man who wasn’t dirt poor was nice. Not having to worry about a budget or bills, as she had growing up with her working widowed mother, was a blessing. But Helena had become accustomed to earning the things she wanted. She’d even paid her way through her Masters at UC Santa Cruz.

  And when she agreed to live with Niccolo in New York to become his eternal bride, she had no idea it meant she’d be without him all the time. Or that she’d have to be under the constant protection of his elite guards who were more like eerie Stepford vampires. They silently kept watch over her day and night, only allowing her to venture outside if approved by Niccolo, and even then, only at night because the sun weakened them. She felt like a prisoner, the annoyance only exacerbated by the fact no one would tell her why she needed guards in the first place.

  Helena sat on the bed and cupped her hands over her face. “No, Niccolo,” she whispered. “That’s not it.” She could feel his eyes on the back of her head. “I don’t want clothes or new furniture.” She slowly turned to him; her eyes filled with tears. Screw rule number two: No crying. Stupid rules!

  “I want…you. I want to know who you are. And I mean, who you really are. I want to know where you go for days on end, and why I can’t come. I want to know why we can’t make love—the real reason—until our wedding night.”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Mio cuore, I know you want answers, but I can only offer you lies. This will not do when I have vowed to tell you the truth. And I will. In seven days, after you’ve been changed. Understand, I’ve made other vows, too. Vows that if broken would cost me my life. Or yours.”

  “But I won’t tell anyone,” she argued. “Who’ll even know? Don’t you trust me?”

  Helena suddenly found herself pinned beneath him. A flicker of anger danced in his eyes. Was she finally going to see her unshakable vampire lose his cool?

  “I will know,” he said. “And it is you who does not trust me, Helena. It is you who asks me to betray you by breaking my vows because you would surely pay the price, just as I would.”

  Huh? This wasn’t making any sense. She looked away from his hypnotic gaze. She knew all it would take was one sweet kiss and she’d be lost again. Lost in his hard body, his powerful arms, and his silky hot tongue. Then he’d disappear again.

  She clamped her eyes shut, feeling the sumptuous weight of his body on top of her. No. Dammit. Be strong. She snapped her head toward him and met his eyes. “I don’t care what you vowed, Niccolo. I need the truth. Now. So either find a way to tell me or no wedding. No forever.”

  He pounded his fist into the bed beside her, leaving a gaping hole. Feathers from the comforter rained down on them. In the blink of an eye he was across the room, standing in the corner.

  Against the blond hardwood floor, white walls, and furniture, Niccolo looked like a menacing black panther waiting in the shadows to take down his prey.

  “Please,” she rose slowly to approach him, but he held out his hands, gesturing for her to stay back.

  She suddenly regretted her earlier wish. Watching him lose control was frightening. But she couldn’t back down; this was just too darn important.

  She eased herself on the edge of the bed. “You’re being unfair, Niccolo. You’re asking me to give up my life to be with you.”

  “Sì, and I value your life more than I value fairness. You will marry me. We will be together. I will not discuss this again.” His dark eyes turned into bottomless, black pits. “Capisce?” he growled.

  Barbarian. Or, is he a medieval bastard? Dammit why didn't I pay closer attention to time periods in history class?

  Helena sighed. Didn't matter what she called him, he wasn't changing his mind. Not now. Not in the seven days left before their wedding. She would have to follow him blindly into the darkness of his world or leave him. Plain and simple.

  So what would it be? She knew what her body said: Stay.

  She knew what her mind said: Leave.

  But what did her heart say?

  When it came down to it, she really knew nothing about Niccolo. Certainly not much more than the night she’d met him in Mexico. This was not how she wanted to start a marriage, one that would last for an eternity.

  “Do you love me?” she asked.

  “Love?” he growled. “Vampires do not do love.”

  “Excuse me?”

  He looked at her, his eyes as black abandoned coalmines. “What does love have to do with it? We are mates. Our bond is eternal.”

  What does love have to do with it? After everything she’d given up, that was his answer? “Love has everything to do with it, Tina! Everything!” She stomped her foot. “We’re over! You arrogant vampire, I’m not marrying you. Capisce?”

  “Why the hell are you calling me ‘Tina’?! And I thought you wanted to be with me,” he said bitterly, but clearly didn’t give any credence to her words.

  “Not anymore! Who the hell wants a life with someone who doesn’t ‘do love.’ That’s…that’s…just sad!”

  In a heartbeat he grabbed Helena and held her up under her arms, staring angrily into her eyes. “I know you do not mean it, Helena. Because you love me. And for you, that’s everything.”

  Oh, that does it. Maybe she was human. And a bit smaller. Okay, a lot smaller, but she wasn’t afraid of him and wouldn’t stand for being bullied. Physically or emotionally. “Unless you plan on killing me, you’d better put me down, Vampire! Because I’m not marrying you. In fact, I’m going home! Back to my old life. I don't want what's behind door number three. I don't want your old stinky donkey! I want my beaches, sunshine, lots of real Italian food”—God, how I miss eating garlic!—“I want to start my career and see my mom and friends whenever I want, and…”

  She wanted to say something to hurt him, to pierce that undead heart of his and pay him back for not loving her, not trusting her, and treating her like a child. “And men who aren’t so bad in bed they avoid sex like the bubonic plague.” Jeez, that was so stupid. There was no other man on earth who was probably more skilled than Niccolo. She didn’t have to sleep with him to figure that one out.

  She watched as fury
engulfed his face. Still holding her in the air, his voice thundered, “Your old life is over, woman! There is no more mother or friends or sunshine for you! You live in my world now, and if you ever threaten to be with another male, I will chain you to my bed.”

  “Put me down! You outdated, archaic, crusty old Italian vampire! And…who the hell doesn’t know about Tina Turner?” Helena screamed.

  Niccolo cursed at the ceiling, “Why me? I should have listened to Cimil. She warned that a human bride would only cause me trouble.” He slowly lowered Helena to the floor and glared down at her. “Maledizione! A fucking curse! That’s what she said. But I didn’t care! I wanted this anyway. But she was right, Cristo sacro! It is a curse to be bound to—to food!”

  Helena gasped. “Food? Did you just call me ‘food’?” Helena felt her face turn red hot.

  “What the hell do you think vampires eat? Cookies?” he screamed so loud the windows rattled. “And get used to it, because you’ll be calling humans food, too! There is no other blood we can survive on. None!”

  Helena froze. “None? How about wild game or…bunnies?”

  “Bloody inferno, woman! You read too many silly books. Those cannot sustain us.”

  Inferno was right. Helena had never really thought about it. She just assumed she could drink animal blood—no big deal; after all, she was a die-hard meat-atarian. But he'd just said “humans.” If he turned her, she would have to drink…people?

  Ick! Ick! Ick! And who would it come from?

  Hey, whose blood has he been sucking? It sure as hell hasn’t been mine, she thought absurdly. No. This is all wrong. What was she doing with him?

  “I was a total idiot to ever think I could be happy with you! Your world is dark and miserable. You are dark and miserable.” She kicked him hard in the groin, and bolted for the door.