Accidentally Married To...A Vampire? (10 page)

Viktor whispered, “We—um—role play, too. It’s part of our HPT process.”

Were these vampire soldiers off their undead rockers? “HPT? What is this?”

“High Performance Teams. It’s a technique to build trust, motivate, and increase output.”

“You know, sir,” one of the younger male vampires cut in. “We’re only as strong as our weakest link.”

Niccolo’s men grumbled in agreement, nodding.

Oh, for bloody heaven’s sake!
What had the world of ruthless warrior vampires come to? Where were the ethics from the days of old? Only the strong survive. Dog eat dog.
Carpe diem!

Niccolo shrugged. “I cannot deny how well the team works together. I must look for the golden lining.”

“That’s
silver
, Sir,” whispered Sentin.

Niccolo frowned. This new English was very confusing. Any self-respecting vampire would want his coffin lined with gold—it was worth far more than silver. “Very well. I do not believe in coffins, anyway…On my count, we rush the room and take them out. I heard twelve voices below, evenly distributed throughout the room. Watch out for the humans they brought in earlier. They might be used as shields.”

The men nodded. Niccolo counted down. Then they rushed back into the building toward the stairs. The room was dark, except for a few small candles burning in the center of the room. The two women lay in a dead heap in the corner, and the Obscuros, including Franc, were sitting in a circle on the floor. Something about that visual disgusted Niccolo’s inner warrior. Men talking, sitting on pillows…sharing? He shivered down to his alpha male core.

The Obscuros sprang to their feet, and the entire room instantly converted into a tornado of vampires whirling through the air, trying to outmaneuver one another. Blood splattered in every direction and then turned into a gray sticky ash. They were no match for Niccolo’s trained men. The room filled with clouds of dust as the Obscuros were shot with wooden bullets or beheaded with Niccolo’s sharp sword. Suddenly, Niccolo heard a cough and a struggle.

“Don’t—don’t move. Or, I’ll hu-hurt him,” someone stuttered.

Niccolo recognized the voice. It was Luis, the one who’d been speaking early. He was likely just some poor man who became a vampire against his will and never knew he had a choice to be good or bad.

Niccolo held out his hands. “Put the knife down, Luis. You don’t want to hurt him. We’re good vampires. You’re good, too. I heard you speaking earlier. Drop the knife, and you can work with us.”

“No!” Luis began to cry again. “You’ll just make me your coffin boy! And, there’s no such thing as good vampires!”

“Listen,” Niccolo reasoned. “I’m over thirteen hundred years old. Viktor, who you’re holding there, is almost as old as I am and nearly impossible to kill. He has also been my friend for ten centuries. I would never allow you to hurt him and live. You have no way out, but to surrender.”

Niccolo saw an easy smile flash across Viktor’s face. Viktor was allowing Luis to hold the knife to his throat and giving him a chance to back down.

“Look, Luis. I’m going to count to three.” Niccolo smiled calmly at the man. “Then you’re going to drop the knife and come with us.”

Niccolo saw Luis’ free hand reach in his pocket.
Bloody inferno.
“One, two—”

Niccolo rushed Luis with such speed that the man never saw the sword swipe toward his neck. Luis’ head fell to the floor and exploded in a cloud of gray dust.

Viktor shook his head as he looked at the remains and noticed a gun lying there. He picked it up and inspected the bullets. “Wooden. I think that dude was really going to off me.”

Niccolo sheathed his sword on his back. He wasn’t sure what Viktor expected him to do. Clearly the protocols between males had changed over the last three centuries. Niccolo wanted to be the great leader he’d always been; but this was uncharted territory, completely out of his comfort-zone.

A true leader shows no fear when his men need him to be strong.
Niccolo closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around Viktor, gently patting him on the back. “There, there, my brother. I am here for you.”

Viktor stopped breathing and Niccolo suddenly heard the other men whispering, shocked. Perhaps even disgusted.

“Niccolo? Why are you…hugging me?”

Niccolo pushed away quickly, his face burned red-hot. “I thought you might need comfort. You know, like those other…” Niccolo grumbled under his breath and swept up the stairs, barely escaping the humiliation of this men bursting into hysterical laughter.

He sifted off to the van, grumbling and growling under his breath. “Insolent, unappreciative…” He suddenly caught the flicker of movement on the monitor.

Niccolo drew his sword and sifted back into the warehouse. Viktor and the men were emerging from the stairwell still roaring with laughter just as a shadow from the darkness appeared behind Viktor.

Niccolo shoved Viktor out of the way just as a thin shining blade barreled down on Viktor’s neck. Niccolo kicked the attacking vampire and watched him fall backward. Niccolo thrust his sword underneath the male, severing his head and turning him instantly to ash.

“Ha! Who’s the real warrior now?” Niccolo bellowed as he marched out of the building, chin held high. “That’s right, bitches!”

Chapter 6

Helena peeked through the crack of the bedroom door then quickly slammed it shut.
Damn. The scary blond guy is still there.
Just like the last fifteen times she’d checked.

Eventually, she had to find food and something more than tap water from the adjoining master bath. It had been one entire day since Niccolo dumped her in the posh penthouse. Where the hell was he?

After convincing her to come with him, he put her on a nine pm flight to New York but didn’t board. Five nerve-racking hours later, the plane touched down, and there he was, waiting outside the plane doors with an inviting smile on his face.

I guess Homeland Security rules don’t apply to vampires.

“We must hurry,” he’d said with a wink, “the sun is rising, and I need my strength today.”

Ooh. That sounds sexy,
she’d thought as he took her hand, gave it a languid kiss, and silently led her outside where a sleek black limo waited curbside.

“Oh, no!” Helena turned to go back toward the terminal. “I forgot my luggage.”

Niccolo patted her hand. “No worries,
mio cuore
. Your belongings are already at our new home.”

“
Our” new home?
She couldn’t quite process that thought just yet. Instead, she asked Niccolo about his mysterious travel tricks.

“There will be time later for Q&A,” he’d said.

But there wouldn’t be, she’d later realize.

Her jaw unhinged when she saw the opulence of the luxury residential building adjacent to Central Park. It was flabbergasting enough to be in such a big city. But it was downright unbelievable when she saw the posh lobby with
über
modern velvet couches and a crystal chandelier the size of a VW bug.

The doorman tilted his hat as they passed.

Wow, I feel just like Pretty Woman, minus the hooker gig.

“Niccolo?” She tugged at his sleeve after the elevator doors closed.

He looked at her with his large dark eyes and flashed yet another stunning smile. “
Sì
, my love?”

Her heart made a happy little flutter. “You said we were going to talk after the plane ride. Aren’t you going to say something?” she asked.

He tilted his head sideways. “What would you like me to say?”

An explanation of why he’d been entombed in Mexico, asleep for three centuries would be nice. Or how about the nature of his origins. Why were he and she “mates?” How did it happen? What did it mean? Was happiness a guaranteed part of the package? How about children? Did she need to pass some sort of math test to prove she was smart enough to be his companion for eternity? Not that she was worried; she was great at math.

Helena suddenly felt foolish, like a naïve child who required hand-holding. She opted for a question that didn’t reflect her eagerness for answers.

She squared her shoulders. “Why did you pick this place to live?”

He frowned for a brief moment. “You are not pleased? You do not like the location? I assure you it is the finest penthouse in all of Manhattan.”

She shook her head. “No. The location is…perfect. But, why New York? Is this where you’re from?” She didn’t think so since he sounded Italian.

He shook his head. “No. I am not from here.”

Yep. Stupid question.

The elevator chimed and the stainless steel doors slid open. They stepped out into a quiet brightly lit hallway with cream-colored walls, thick floral patterned carpet, and beveled mirrors on either side of an ornately carved set of double doors.

“Do you work in New York, then?” She had no clue what he did for money.

He turned toward her, his jaw muscles pulsed. Was he frustrated? Had she said something wrong?

“It is simply…convenient,” he replied.

“Why?”

Jaw ticking. “
Buon
. All will be revealed in good time, my bride.” The doors swung open, and he tugged her through. “Until then, I’m afraid you’ll have to bear with me. There is much I cannot discuss. It is simply forbidden.”

“But you said I’m your mate. Doesn’t that mean I’m allowed to know—”

She suddenly found herself pinned against the wall. He kissed her with such force that for a moment she didn’t know if he was attacking her or merely feeling as hot under the collar as she was. His lips pushed and sucked as his tongue invaded her mouth. A jolt surged through her body. The elation was so exquisite, so powerful, that she thought she would either orgasm or pass out if he didn’t stop. Either would be just a teensee bit embarrassing at this juncture of their relationship.

She then recalled being whisked away to what she believed was their bedroom. (Who the heck cared?) He pressed his body against hers, continuing to take possession of her mouth. He felt so good, so hard against her softness. A pulsating, sinful warmth pooled between her legs as his hands cupped her ass and pushed her possessively into his erection.

Is there any spot on his body that isn’t hard? Tonsils? Kidneys? Oh! His tongue... silky little devil.

A deep rumble escaped his throat as his hands reached for the buttons of her jeans.

Were they going to do this now?
So soon?

Hell, who was she kidding? She thought about it every minute of every day since she’d met him.

Yiiiippy!!

But did he know she wasn’t…experienced? She’d seen him naked and knew his size was not to be taken lightly.
No training wheels on that bicycle.

How she was able, she’d never know, but she broke the kiss to warn him and caught a glimpse of his eyes. They were dark abysses that mirrored her own uncertainty, raging lust, and fear.

She gasped. “Niccolo. Are you okay?”

A look of frustration.
No. Wait…anger. No…fear. Oh, hell
. It was a bad, bad look.

“Tomas will watch over you,” he scowled before he flew from the room like a wintry gust, slamming the door behind him.

After Helena had caught her breath and splashed cold water—not nearly cold enough—on her face, she attempted to go find him. But instead she found the giant Slavic beast—
Tomas?—
at her door, with a gaze so icy he could freeze a penguin’s patooty. That took the wind from her libido-sails.

She’d spent the rest of the day unpacking, watching television, and trying to avoid confronting the reality of her situation. But she'd never ventured outside the room where the scary blond man stood motionless.

Would Niccolo ever return? Damn him. Why did he leave her alone? Perhaps she was a terrible kisser and his eyes were like mood rings that turned black when a science-dork touched him?

Ugh! Stop it, Helena. There has to be a rational explanation. He wouldn’t bring you all the way here, buy you a home, save your life…just to dump you after one kiss.

Helena opened her journal. Yes, she would make sense of everything by separating fact from fiction—aka her deranged imagination—and sort them in an orderly manner, which would lead her to a rational explanation for everything she’d seen, heard, and felt.

Start with the creepy assassin at your door.

Was he a vampire, too?
Maybe.

Would he hurt her?
Not likely
. Niccolo was
über
protective and wouldn’t leave her with someone who would harm her.