“Yes, sir,” Viktor responded. “I’ll try and catch a few non-Forbiddens on the way. I have a feeling you’re going to need blood by the time I get there.”
Niccolo winced. He did need to feed, but bagged blood was all he could stomach—just barely. Perhaps his body would return to normal once he drank from Helena and turned her.
“No thanks. Just get there as quickly as you can; I don’t know what I might find when I arrive.”
***
Armed with his two favorite ancient swords crisscrossed over his back, hidden under his duster, Niccolo closed his eyes and visualized the alley behind the dive bar where he’d killed a few contemptible Obscuros the month before. As his feet materialized on the wet asphalt next to the overflowing dumpster, his senses shifted to warrior mode, ready for anything. Gratefully, the trip had not entirely purged him of his waning, precious strength.
Suddenly, he heard the loud roar of a crowd. Maybe there was one of those silly football games on tonight? Silly humans with their mock battles. If they wanted real excitement, they should hunt Obscuros. Now, there was something worth cheering for.
He pushed his finger through the heavy deadbolt of the backdoor and yanked it open. He could hear the crowd more clearly now, they were chanting…Lena?
“Helena!” He bolted through the dimly lit, long hallway that led past the bathrooms into the main room. There, in the corner, was Helena passionately kissing…“That fucking Demilord. I’ll kill him!” His fist balled tightly as he captured the unmistakable emotion of lust radiating from Helena.
Bloody hell! This couldn’t be happening! She was his mate. They were bonded. There was no possible way she could ever want another as long as his heart still beat—some said even after that.
And why the bloody hell are these men chanting her name?
***
Helena’s mind swirled with tequila as Andrus embraced her in a soul-clenching kiss. His warm strong muscles were hard against her soft body, and from the moment his lips touched hers, she almost felt the crater-size hole—that Niccolo had left behind—filling up. Almost.
From the corner of her mind, she suddenly heard Joe and his friends howling and cheering. “That’s it Lena! Take the bull by the horns, girl! Show him who’s boss!”
Boy, Joe had been right. There was kissing and then there was kissing. Joe showed her how to put her whole body into it, to make love to a man’s mouth with her tongue. Joe was a genius. No wonder he’d never been dumped.
I can’t wait to try this out on Niccolo.
Damn it! She just couldn’t stop thinking about Niccolo. Not even the top-shelf tequila dulled her feelings. It was so damned frustrating! Well, once the bond was broken, she’d be free to make out with any man, and her heart would be free to enjoy it. Andrus was first on her list. He was a great kisser.
Yeah, but he’s no Niccolo, is he? In fact, you’re so sick in love with Niccolo that right now, your mind is making you believe he’s standing next to you while you’re kissing his enemy.
“Lena!” Niccolo barked.
Andrus released Helena and spun her behind him.
Niccolo’s nostrils flared and chest heaved. He took a step toward Andrus, snarling, putting them face to face. Helena noticed that Niccolo was about four inches taller. It was odd thinking of Andrus as the smaller one when he was absolutely huge.
“I will not let you take your anger out on her, Executioner,” Andrus said.
Niccolo raised a brow. “The name is Niccolo. And I could ever hurt my bride. You, however...”
Andrus laughed right in his face. “Any time, leech.”
“Take it outside you two!” Fernando called out from behind the bar while pouring a beer. He didn’t look at all worried. With this crowd maybe brawling was the norm. It would explain why there were no tables; they’d just get in the way of a good Texan leather-daddy catfight.
Niccolo nodded. “You heard the human,” he said, his whisper so low that only Andrus and she could hear.
“Wait!” Helena begged. Every set of eyes in the room followed as Helena trailed behind the two seething warriors. They huffed and cursed at each, soaring past the bathrooms and disappearing out the back door.
“Wait! Niccolo! Andrus! Stop! Please,” she pleaded again.
She caught the heavy door with her palms—just before it slammed closed in her face. She pushed hard and spilled outside into the dimly lit alley. Her heart skipped as her eyes registered a sight she wasn’t expecting: instead of facing off with each other, the two enormous warriors were staring down a gang of savage-looking men dressed in torn jeans and mud-caked leather jackets.
There must have been more than twenty monsters, although Helena found her counting skills sorely lacking at the drunken moment. They were lined up in a loose formation, each brandishing a sword or a stake. Some were blond, some had black hair, but each had eyes that were pits of evil.
A shiver climbed up her spine.
“Go back inside, Helena!” Niccolo yelled.
“That would be an awesome choice, but I can’t seem to move my feet.” Helena was surprised she was even standing—seemed like a great time to pass out.
Andrus, not taking his eyes off the small army of...whatever the hell they were, barked at her, “Do it now!”
Helena glared down at her Uggs. Maybe the tequila had pooled inside them, and they were too drunk to move. “Nope. Feet still not moving,” she whispered.
She heard the two warriors groan.
“Bloody hell, woman!” said Niccolo.
Helena suddenly felt herself shoved through the back door. It had been Niccolo. The door slammed shut behind her, and the loud clank of metal and grunts of combat filtered through the door.
Help. She needed to find help. She ran toward the crowd inside the bar, panting.
Fernando instantly spotted her. “Everything okay, honey? Those two slugging it out like the big, gnarly, sexy manly men that they are?”
She pointed toward the back door, “They—they—there’s—um…”
What if she lost Niccolo? Or Andrus? What if she lost them both?
Her head began to swirl violently and then the room went black.
***
Andrus studied Helena who was stretched out on the bed and finally beginning to come back to life. Despite her “run over by a bus” hangover appearance, Andrus couldn’t help but stare. She was gorgeous even in her worst state.
Andrus sat down in a chair beside the faux-wood table near the window that glowed with full sunlight. He bent down and pulled off his boots.
“Where are we?” she asked, her voice gravelly with sleep and her golden curls plastered to the side of her head.
“Super 8. And before you say anything, you’re lucky not to be dead.”
Helena nodded. Her head plunked down onto the cushy white pillow. “Okeey dokee. Super 8. Great.”
She rolled over, putting her back to Andrus and then pulled the floral comforter up over her head.
Andrus couldn’t help but smile. After Niccolo’s unexpected appearance last night, he’d thought for sure his plan was out the window. Niccolo had caught him locking lips with his bride, so that meant there’d be a fight to the death. So when those Obscuros showed up, he’d never been so happy to see those vile, despicable creatures. The perfect diversion.
As soon as Helena was inside the bar, the Obscuros attacked from every direction. Andrus could hold his own against a gang of Obscuros; nonetheless, he couldn’t help but be awe inspired as Niccolo sifted repeatedly, taking down one vampire after another with such ease. His motions were fluid and fast. He was completely silent except for the sound of his sword slicing through the flesh and bone of his victims.
Andrus finally understood how Niccolo had earned his nickname. The Executioner was, indeed, a killing machine.
Andrus was tempted to take advantage of the diversion and leave with Helena, but he couldn’t risk anything happening to Niccolo either. The General was essential if he w
anted Reyna. Andrus masked himself with shadows and inconspicuously took heads as Obscuros swooped by. He heard the faint rustle from above and turned just in time to see two more vampires jumping from the roof toward Niccolo. Andrus leaped and swung. He hit one but missed the other; they were too far apart.
“Behind you!” Andrus screamed.
Niccolo swung his sword in time to take the Obscuro’s head.
Down to just a handful, the remaining vampires suddenly vanished.
“Oh! Come. On! Can I get a goddamned break?” Niccolo screamed at the fleeing vampires, “Get the hell back here and die like real vampires!” He turned towards Andrus. “I must go after them.”
Andrus nodded. “I'll go back inside and check on Helena.”
Niccolo knew Andrus would take her again, yet he chose to go after the bad guys? He put his duty before his own personal needs?
Had he misjudged The General? That was no good. He was banking on Niccolo behaving like a possessive, obsessed jealous mate.
“But make no mistake, Demilord,” Niccolo added, “I am coming for you, and I will take back Helena. Then I will take your head next.”
Andrus smiled inwardly. That’s more like it. He dipped his head. “Until we meet again.”
With a blur, Niccolo dashed off in the direction of the Obscuros.
Andrus released a sigh. That was too close. He’d have to be more careful. But how was the sneaky bastard finding them so quickly? Vampires didn’t have such precision. It was like he had Helena GPS–just like she’d said.
He closed his eyes and shook his head. Of course. He reached in his pocket and stared at the GPS app on the screen of his smart phone.
Sneaky bastards.
After that, he’d gone inside, retrieved a passed out Helena, dumped her phone, and hit the road. He’d driven well into the afternoon.
Now he looked down at her snuggled in the large bed. If only he had someone like her to come home to everyday. Andrus’ shaft stirred again as he remembered kissing Helena’s sweet lips. Would he be able to give her up when the time came? Would he be able to betray her to get his hands on queen? Would she ever forgive him for killing Niccolo?
Does it really matter? There is no choice, he reminded himself.
He just hoped that someday Helena might forgive him. But for now, he wanted to savor his last days with her as his ally.
Chapter 14
Niccolo was astonished by how easily he’d been able to sift to Helena by merely opening his mind to her presence. Their bond was incredibly strong now—unlike any he’d ever heard of. But his satisfaction over this discovery quickly dissolved into rage. Bloody fucking rage.
He stared down at Helena nestled in the arms of another man. A fucking Demilord—a dog of the supernatural world. Not good enough to be a god and certainly not good enough to be a vampire. Something in between.
He ground his teeth so firmly he could taste the char from the friction. In one fluid motion, he flung Helena over his shoulder like a sack of grain and carried her out the door with blurring speed.
He continued down the road at a pace so rapid that the ordinary human eye would never spot them.
Niccolo finally stopped under an old oak tree in a heavily wooded area backing up to a green pasture. It was far enough away that Andrus could not track them for several minutes without luck or help.
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 ha
ve 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.