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 playing. 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!"