Perhaps as a sign that he too had changed, she noticed he wasn't wearing a stitch of black. He wore a soft white linen shirt and faded blue jeans. She sighed. He was so sexy that her mouth literally watered.
My tasty man-candy. His broad shoulders were twice the width of hers. He was larger and stronger than life.
But what she loved most, aside from the depths of soul-filled eyes, was the sleek hard lines of his stacked muscles and the slight golden glow of his skin. Okay. She had to admit there was one other part of him she might like better. And that part was currently hard, ready, and bulging against the fly of his jeans.
She stared at him as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt and let it drop to the floor. His thick black waves of dark hair hung just past his shoulders, giving him a wild look. His stomach rippled as he reached for the top button of his pants.
Dark eyes twinkling with passion, he released his pulsing erection. It was long and thick, and Helena had dreamed for months of how it would feel when he slid it inside her.
For weeks, he'd been part of her mind and heart. But her body had been missing out on the fun, and that was just wrong. Poor, poor body.
The moment he shed his jeans, she reached to pull him on top of her. She pushed her lips to his and glided her fingers down, letting the back of her hand graze his washboard stomach before gripping his solid cock.
He gasped and pulled her hand away. "I'm not sure I'll be able to contain myself if you do that."
She smiled. The thought of bringing him over the edge almost made her burst. "I know what you mean."
He slowly moved over her, nestling himself between her legs. He kissed her with a wild frenzy while grinding himself against her. It wasn't enough; she wanted him deep inside.
She broke the kiss. "What are you waiting for?"
Niccolo smirked and ran his hand over the side of her face. "Patience my love, patience."
He slid down her body, trailing kisses over her neck and breasts. He lovingly savored each nipple, paying loving respect to each before continuing the journey down, down, down. Oh, okay. Maybe I can wait few more minutes.
He stopped.
Oops, belly button detour? Would he ever get to the other place? She was ready to explode. She ached for his touch on her soft flesh. "Please, Niccolo."
"Please what?" he asked with a wicked smile, gazing up at her with his dark eyes.
"Please, please … please me." Wasn't that a Beatles' song?
"I love the sound of you begging," he said, his voice deep and velvety.
"How about the sound of me crying hysterically if you don't-oooh," she moaned as he moved his mouth between her legs and plunged his tongue inside.
She shuddered as she instantly found her release. He didn't relent as she grabbed fistfuls of sheets beside her and quivered under his tongue. Her chest rising and falling rapidly, all she could hear was the thundering sound of her own heart. "That was-it was … amazing."
"Just a warm up, by bride." He crawled up her body like a predator ready to pounce. "Just relax, we'll take it slow."
She shook her head. "Not slow. Just fast and hard."
Niccolo didn't bother questioning. Maybe he couldn't. Maybe her command was all he needed to lose the tender restraint he'd been showing her. He positioned himself at her entrance and brought his mouth to hers once again, lapping and panting as he slowly sunk his hard flesh down her passage. She felt a twinge of pain as he pushed deeper. She let out a moan she wasn't expecting, and he eased back.
"You're so tight and slick. So warm," he said in a husky voice saturated with sex. "It's like my cock died and went to heaven."
She stifled a laugh.
"The smile on your face is almost as good as the other expression you just had," he said.
"Which was?" she whispered.
"Pure pleasure." He thrust deep inside her again, taking her breath away.
The sting subsided almost immediately. Now all she felt was the delicious friction of him pumping into her, filling her over and over again. She moved her hands over his back, feeling the solid muscles work beneath his smooth skin. Everything about him liquefied her. Suddenly a scream escaped her mouth as he sank deeper, sending her over the edge once again. A moment later, he followed her with one long, hard, final push.
Panting he collapsed on top of her, burying his face in her neck.
It was done. She was no longer a virgin and Niccolo was truly her vampire husband.
Until death do us part.
***
Nearly comatose with euphoria after three more hours of wild lovemaking, Helena stared at the ceiling, realizing why vampire divorce was unheard of. Because if the other vampire males were one-half the lover that Niccolo was, well, why would any woman leave? Then there was that whole, "death is the only way out" thing. That made it a little harder to call it quits. She wondered what the human divorce rate would be if they faced the same circumstances?
"Thank you, Helena," Niccolo finally said after a few silent moments and squeezed her close in his arms.
Eyes closed and barely able to move from absolute bliss-overload, she asked, "For?"
"Forgiving me. You have brought me more happiness in one day than I've known my entire existence."
Helena's heart fluttered with guilt. Oh, gods. If he only knew. "Niccolo, there's something we need to discuss."
"What, my love?"
Could she tell him the truth about what had happened at the Demilord compound? Viktor swore that Niccolo would never forgive either of them.
"You want to know what happened to Andrus, don't you?" he growled.
"No. I was going to … " her curiosity piqued. What had happened to Andrus? Yeah, he betrayed her, lied to her, and held her prisoner. But nonetheless, she still cared about him. She knew what it was like to do stupid, irrational things when backed into a corner. "You didn't kill him, did you?"
Niccolo snarled. "How can you care after what he did?"
She sat up. "What he did was wrong, but he didn't lay a finger on me."
Niccolo looked confused. "Then who hurt you?" he demanded. "There are bruises on your shoulders, you look like you weren't fed, and there's a bandage on your arm. Somebody sure the hell did something to you. Which one of his men was it! Who hurt you?"
Could she tell him the truth? She had to try. She had to tell him everything. "Viktor did it, but-"
Niccolo flew from the bed and slid on his pants.
"Niccolo! Wait! Where are you going?"
"I'm going to find him and kill him," he screamed.
"No, you don't understand … he … "
She blinked and Niccolo was gone. Just like that.
"Holy hell. What have I done?"
***
Holy hell! How the fuck did I end up here?
Andrus stared past the scowling Reyna at the flickering candle on the stone floor, trying to calm himself. Panic was for the weak. And weakness for idiots. But … holy hell!
He'd been so blinded by his need for revenge, the thought that Niccolo might recruit the queen to help never occurred to him. Hell, it was a risky move even he wouldn't have attempted. Reyna was crazy and unpredictable.
Guess the son of bitch got lucky. Because Andrus was now tied to a chair in the dark, dank room deep in the bowels of Barcelona.
He looked up at Reyna's smiling face. "Don't be so fucking pleased with yourself," he growled. "You might kill me, but you'll still be a crazy, useless bitch and the worst ruler the vampire world has ever seen."
Reyna backhanded him with such force that he was sure she'd fractured his jawbone. She cackled. "Oh, shut it. I'm not going to kill you."
Not. Good. That meant she was going to torture him. Best provoke her and pray she lost her temper.
A quick death. There was also the off chance that if she killed him-a clear violation of the Pact-it would displease the gods and they might off her themselves. Of course, he had been plotting to kill her-also a violation of the Pact. Oh, well. It was worth trying at this point. What did he have to lose? Death really was the best option.
"I'm adding stupid to that list," he said. "You keep me alive, and I'll find a way to get loose. Or, my men will come for me. I will find a way to take your head, Reyna."
Reyna's smile melted away. "Such cruel, cruel words, Andrus dear. But keep it coming. It will make your screams that much sweeter to my ears."
With slits on either side, her long black dress didn't impede access to her usual arsenal of weapons strapped to her thighs. What tool would she choose? The small jewel encrusted blade he'd given her as a gift when they were lovers? Or her favorite machete she was rumored to carry these days? Today, she also had on leather thigh-high boots. She could be carrying a shotgun, too. He had to keep pushing her, make her furious so she'd kill him now, or he'd end up filleted, diced, and then charred daily for an eternity. Demilords were extremely resilient.