Accidentally Married To...A Vampire? (14 page)

“Viktor, come on. Don’t be like this. I’m only going to be human for six more days. Don’t I have the right to say goodbye to the things I love? My family? My life? To my favorite foods?” She grabbed the can of clam chowder, clamped the opener down, and began turning.

Viktor was suddenly at her side, towering over her. “What do you need?”

It worked.
Her eyes flashed to the bottle of wine on the counter.

“Cocktails, before noon?” he questioned.

She shrugged. “It’s always happy hour somewhere in the world. Right now, that somewhere is here. Niccolo only has those weird corkscrews they use in restaurants.” She continued opening the can.

From the corner of her eye she watched Viktor swiftly removed the red foil and effortlessly plucked the corkscrew from the bottle.

She ran her finger over the sharp edge of the soup can, letting the jagged edge make a deep slice. She waited one second to allow the blood to pool so it would permeate the air and then said, “Ouch, son of—”

Like she’d been bulldozed by a ton of bricks, she found herself smashed against the wall. Viktor’s eyes had turned from a brilliant blue to a bottomless black. His chest was heaving as he gazed hungrily down at her.

She was right; her “Forbidden” blood was unusually tempting to vampires, just as Rodrigo had said.

“Viktor! Let me go!” She struggled, hoping her plan wouldn’t backfire; he could actually decide to drink her—a bad choice considering she was Niccolo’s “wife.” On the other hand, hungry men had been known to do stupider things.

She bent her head and bit down on his right arm.

The moment he jerked away, she snagged Viktor’s cell from his belt. “What do you think you’re doing?” she barked. “Niccolo will kill you! You’re here to protect me!” Helena did her best to rattle the fearless Viking.

She grabbed a kitchen towel from the counter and wrapped it around the phone along with her bleeding finger. “Get out! Get away from me!”

Viktor looked as if he’d been kicked in the pants by an angry large man. “I’m—uh, sorry Helena. I really—”

“Just get the hell out!”

With her breath held tight, she watched Viktor turn and leave the room.

Helena tip toed around the corner to the bedroom, pulled out the phone, and dialed 911. Carefully and quietly, with her most convincing damsel-in-distress voice, she alerted the operator to a non-existent fire raging in her bedroom. She included the erroneous fact she was trapped in the bathroom.

She rushed back to the kitchen, placed the phone on the floor near the wall where Viktor had plastered her, and then went back to her soup.

Within seconds Viktor was standing at her side, glaring. “Where is it?”

She clutched her cut finger, feigning fear. “Get away from me!”

Viktor took one step closer, hovering over her. “Nice try, human. You trying to get me killed? You’re not allowed to have a phone any longer. Where is it?”

Helena shrugged. “What?”

“My phone. I know you took it.”

“You mean the phone on the floor right behind you?” She nodded toward the wall. “You’re damned lucky I didn’t see it because right now, I’d be calling Niccolo and telling him you tried to gobble down his wife!” Pretending to sob, Helena stomped to the bedroom, slammed the door shut, and then waited. She couldn’t believe she’d succeeded, and hopefully, Niccolo would never know she’d pulled one over on Viktor. She didn’t want him punished, and if her plan worked, no one would get hurt, least of all herself.

***

Toting her backpack, Helena nonchalantly glided past the panicked doorman talking via radio to someone on her floor about the false alarm. The commotion caused by the team of firemen had been just the distraction she needed to break into Niccolo’s desk—where she’d seen him stash her cell—and slip past Viktor.

She burst through the revolving glass door onto the bustling street, her heart galloping. If the doorman now knew the fire was a hoax, then Viktor knew too and would be hot on her trail. Thank goodness the bright and sunny day would slow Viktor down.

She glanced over her shoulder, weaving between busy tourists and shoppers carrying bags. She made her way to the corner.
Almost there!

She lifted her head to scout out a cab and noticed a man standing across the street staring at her.

Creepy.

Distracted, she tripped and stumbled, catching herself before she nearly plowed into a parking meter. She righted herself and paused for a double take. What caught her eye wasn’t so much his staring, but it was the
way
he looked at her—like he’d been expecting her.

His gaze silently sliced through the flowing crowds, through the rumble of traffic, and straight through her. He was extraordinarily gorgeous and loaded with menacing, powerful muscles. He reminded her of Niccolo. Was even dressed like him—black leather pants and a long leather duster. But this guy had spiky dark hair and wore dark shades.

He slid his glasses down his nose and locked his golden eyes on Helena.

A cold shiver ran through her body. Who was he? Better yet, what was he?

He casually stood on the sidewalk in full sunlight. Sure, Niccolo and his men could do that—the sunlight only weakened them—but they wouldn’t stand in it, bathe in it.

Not sticking around to find out.
She’d had enough of this strange world she’d been pulled into.

Helena’s hand flew into the air as she reached the corner. A Yellow Cab screeched across several lanes, cutting off a bus, limo, and two delivery trucks.

The cab skidded to a halt directly in front of her, a trail of burning rubber following closely behind.

Too panicked to play the “is this really safe?” card, Helena jumped in, frantically glancing over her shoulder at the strange man through the back window.

“Oh, boy. What a tasty man-treat!” said the female driver who’d noticed Helena watching the man. “He gonna chase us? ‘Cause, I love a good game of cat and mouse! Raarrr.”

Helena’s mind took a second to register the driver’s bizarre question. “Sorry. What?’

The redhead didn’t turn around, but through the rear view mirror, Helena noticed the woman had thick black eyeliner chalked around her turquoise eyes.

“Nada enchilada. Where to? Wait! Let me guess!” The driver bounced excitedly in her seat and clapped. “I love guessing games! Ummm…You’re running from a man who’s so dang hot, he scorches the lace trim from your panties. And, you think you can get over him if you run, but you’re like a stray dog that’s found a giant cow patty! You won’t be happy until you’ve had a good roll.” She cackled. “Did I nail it? Did I? Did I? Huh? Huh?”

Helena sneered.
Great. Just what I need.
“Amsterdam and West Ninetieth, please.”

The driver nodded. “Sure, baby cakes.”

As soon as they were ten blocks away, Helena released her breath. The man had made no attempt to follow her.

The cab abruptly hooked right.

“Hey. Where are you going?” Helena didn’t have time for this.

The driver shrugged. “Amsterdam and West Hundred and Seventh. Just like you said!”

Ugh!
“No. I said Ninetieth.”

“Tisk, tisk.” The woman shook her head. “Everyone knows that place is a rip-off.”

“Dammit! Just pull over.” She’d walk the rest of the way.

The driver huffed. “You’re a stubborn little thaang, aren’t you? Look it, I guarantee this other guy will give you top dollar. If he doesn’t, then I’ll take his soul and the ride is free.”

Helena smothered her sparks of frustration. “Fine.”
Wait. Did she just say she’d “take his soul?” What a whack-job.

The driver nodded. “Here we are!” she sang out.

“I’ll be right back.” Helena slid from the vinyl seat.

“You won’t regret it! And don’t settle for anything under four-hundred!” the driver screamed out the window as Helena reached for the front door.

Helena glanced back, but the driver quickly turned away, preventing Helena from getting good look.

Whatever.
All that really mattered was being free. Now she’d have to figure out how to stay that way.

***

Cimil watched Helena disappear into the pawnshop. “Ha! Did I tell you this was gonna be drama-tastic, or what?” she said toward the roof of the car. “Just wait ‘til you see what I have coming next! That vampire’s gonna be so jealous, his head’s going to spin like a Beyblade.”

Cimil howled with laughter then whipped out her phone and began texting:
vampy bride just went into pawnshop, corner of Amsterdam & 107
^th
.

She knew Andrus would just assume one of his men had sent the text from the blocked number. They’d been watching Helena’s every move for weeks via satellite. (The gods personally had the system installed for the Demilords; it was a much more efficient way to keep tabs on people…or naughty vamps.) That said, Cimil wasn’t leaving anything to chance. Not today. This particular meeting was critical.

The door of the cab suddenly flew open. A tall man in a gray suit hopped in. “University Medical Center, please.”

Cimil turned her body to get a good look through the Plexiglas. “Oh, hey there, naughty boy. Isn’t this convenient. I was about to come for you! Aaah fate…What would I do without her?”

The man shot Cimil a confused look.

“Hold on, honey. It’s going to be a bumpy ride! Hope you like Twister and molten lava. Cuz, that’s how we roll where you’re going.”

“I don’t have time for this crap,” the man mumbled and tugged on the now inoperable door handle.

Cimil cackled loudly then cranked up the radio. “Oooh! Lucky day. Neil Diamond.”

The cab screeched away from the curb.

Chapter 8

The full-bellied man wearing a beige grease-stained sweater stared impatiently at Helena across the glass counter. The grainy picture of a foreign soccer game flickered on the large screen TV behind him.

“What do you mean, ‘fake?’ That can’t be right.” Her blood pressure hit the floor. She’d only been free from the penthouse twenty minutes and already hit a snag in her plan?

No. She could figure this out. She was smart, resourceful, and pissed as hell about how Niccolo had treated her. In short, she wasn’t even close to giving up. She
was
getting her life back!

The merchant handed her the large solitaire engagement ring. “Listen, lady,” he said with a thick, indistinguishable accent. “I do ’dis my whole life. Is fake. No worth five dollar.” He picked at his molar with his pinky finger to remove whatever horrible fishy thing he’d been eating when she entered the pawnshop.

Lord, love a duck! She only had eighty bucks on her and zilch in her bank account. After graduation, she’d been planning to start working right away, to begin saving again and paying her student loans. But then, well, Niccolo happened.

As much as she’d protested, Niccolo insisted she wasn’t to worry about such trivial human things any more. She hadn’t even known he’d paid off her student loans until last week when she’d received the closing statements forwarded in the mail. She’d made a mental note to talk to him about finances as soon as possible, including her plans to go back to work.

But if Niccolo was wealthy, why would he give her a fake engagement ring? It made absolutely no sense…unless…he wanted to keep her resources limited? Maybe he’d feared she’d leave and, if he knew about her student loans, he probably knew how much money she had in the bank. He wanted to keep her from getting far.

Damned sneaky vampire!
If it was the last thing she did, once she found a way to “divorce” him, she’d pay him back every cent he’d spent on her. She didn’t want to owe him anything.

Helena noticed an odd pang in her stomach when she thought about life without Niccolo. It felt…uneasy, somehow. She still craved him, his addictive scent, the endless depths of his dark eyes.
But dammit! He is so closed off and controlling. And so, so strong and sexy.
She stopped herself.
And arrogant! And controlling! And don’t forget…he said he doesn’t “do” love. He will never ever love you.

Helena swallowed the dry lump in her throat and then eyed the intricate filigree gold ring on her right middle finger. It had been her great-grandmother’s and was the only thing of value she owned. She slipped it off and placed it on the counter. “How much?”

The man wiped his greasy palm on his sweater and popped the jeweler’s loop to his eye. “Two hundred.”

“What?” Helena’s mom once had the ring appraised; it was an antique worth a thousand.
Darn it!
She needed to make it to Chicago where she could stay with Ann until she figured things out. “Five, or I go down the street.”