His touch sent a sharp jolt through her arm, causing her insides to liquefy.
She snapped her hand back and scuttled against the cold, damp wall, trying to assess the situation. She'd never seen a man take up so much space. He didn't simply eclipse her five-foot-four frame; he engulfed her with his presence.
Was he a threat? If yes, then why did she want to throw herself in his arms and treat him like her favorite boardwalk ride? Could stay on that dang Tilta-Whirl all day long.
Her skin felt flushed, the muscles deep inside fluttered and constricted, and her nipples perked. For darn certain, that other sensation (which she was not going to think about) was her body telling her the time had come to give away that virginity of hers-just like those size seven jeans in the back of her closet.
How unkind to keep something someone else could put to good use. Greedy, greedy girl.
But she was not going to think about that. She should run. Everything about him screamed danger.
Her eyes made another sweep over his entire bare length. Darn it. She couldn't help herself from looking. She'd never seen a man like him.
His dark eyes twinkled as he crossed his arms over his broad chest and arched one sable brow, "Pleased by what you see, then?"
Oh, yes.
"No." She shook her head. "Who the hell are you?" Her eyes continued basking in every scrumptious detail. Is that? Is he? Oh … Yes, he is. Helena felt her face turn red hot. She quickly looked away as erotic images involving his erection flooded her imagination. What was happening to her? Her mind wasn't normally in the gutter, or in this case, Lady-Pervert Land. On the other hand, this situation felt far from normal. Definitely disturbing. Maybe Lady-Pervert Land was her happy place. She'd always wondered where it was.
"Your eyes and body betray your words. Why do you deny your desire?" His dark gaze bore down as he studied her with curiosity.
Dammit. She needed to clear her mind, but who could think with that heavenly smell wafting through the air? She could taste him on her tongue. Was that vanilla? Cinnamon? God save her, the man smelled like cookies. Gooey, warm, fresh out of heaven man-cookies.
She had to get a hold of herself. She had to run. Did she have a chance of making it out alive? Something told her "no." Definitely no. The chamber exit, a narrow doorway, led to an even narrower passage that would dump her back into the dark jungle. She wouldn't make it two feet before he barreled down on her with those powerful thighs.
Yes, powerful thighs. Ummm. She ground her palm into her forehead. Tramp! Get a hold of yourself.
She'd have to find a way out. She had to be strong, keep her wits.
She lifted her chin and glared at him defiantly. The fickle torchlight offered another tempting glimpse of his dark, probing eyes, and in that brief moment, she felt like he was staring right into her very soul.
"You are so lovely." He reached out and brushed her cheek. "Your eyes, they are the color of exotic sapphires." He slid a curl between his fingers. "And your hair is like the sun. I never imagined..."
She didn't recognize the accent. Mediterranean or Spanish, perhaps? No. His name sounded Italian. Regardless of origin, his voice curled her toes just like the rest of him.
"Imagined?" she whispered.
The corner of his mouth twitched with an arrogant smirk. "You are my mate, sì?"
"Mate?" Like, as in … first? Buddy? Other shoe?
Niccolo took another small step forward, lightly pressing his body, and every hard part in between, against hers. Her body instantly responded with prickly goose bumps.
"Your mate," he said, then slowly bent his head to nuzzle her neck. "Designed by fate and the universe to be your ideal companion in every way." His breath tickled her neck. He seemed to be completely absorbed in the act of nuzzling. "Mio cuore, don't you believe in such a thing?" he continued in a low, seductive voice. "Human women were once enthralled by such a notion."
Human? With that word, Helena felt her body knot up with howls of self-preservation. She managed to get a hold of herself and push him away.
He grumbled in protest.
"Why did you just say ‘human' like that? And what does ‘mio cuore' mean?" she asked with a breathy voice.
"My heart. It means my heart-Cimil did not explain the situation?" he asked.
Helena shook her head. "Who's Cimil?"
"Most interesting." He paused as if about to explain, but instead reached out to clutch another lock of her hair. He bent down slowly and inhaled. "What is the date, my golden-haired one?"
This has to be a dream. There's no other explanation. But why does everything feel so real? Why do I feel so alive?
Not knowing what else to do, she simply answered, "August tenth."
His hungry eyes raked over her neck then down to her breasts. He reached out and grabbed the hem of her neckline. He studied the knit fabric with curiosity as he'd done with her hair, feeling its texture between his thick thumb and index finger.
"Year?" he asked.
Maybe he was mad and she'd gone mad too? Or, when she fell in the jungle, she'd hit her noggin on a rock. Head injury. Yep, that had to be it.
Again, Niccolo appeared to be amused by her reaction to him.
"Year?" he repeated.
Helena squirmed, sliding sideways against the rough wall to put space between her and the naked tower of muscles with the giant throbbing man-gear she so wanted to inappropriately grope.
"Twenty-twelve," she answered.
A blaze of fury engulfed his face. He slammed his fist into the stone wall behind her, causing the entire temple to quake. Dust and small chunks of stone rained down.
"Three hundred years? Three hundred bloody years! Bloody inferno!" he roared at the ceiling.
Terrified, she dropped to the floor and covered her head as the structure shook. The mental tug-of-war between her dreamlike-lust and survival instincts finally ended. He must be mad. She had to run before he killed her.
***
When Niccolo awoke, he couldn't have been more confused. He had no clue how he had ended up in that dark, musty chamber with odd-looking objects and priceless treasures, but he knew whom to blame.
Cimil.
He recalled her pointy little hand waving in his face.
Next thing he knew, he could sense the human woman. She had entered his dreams like a bolt of lightning. And when she smeared that delicious, floral-scented blood on his lips and kissed him, the world burst to life again. He sensed the pulse of every living creature for miles. And the smells-every leaf, fleck of dirt, drop of rain, and … her-he could smell them all. It was as though he'd been dormant for centuries, suddenly brought back to life by an angel of carnal temptation. The most gorgeous, sensuous female creature he'd ever laid eyes on. Her feminine scent, her warmth, everything about her filled his mind with erotic bliss.
Bravo, buffoon! That is because you have been dormant for centuries, three of them, if anyone is counting. And she is the first warm-blooded creature you have encountered. His body felt famished. She was food. Breathtaking, female food with silky golden spirals that framed her delicate sun-kissed face, and a curvy, juicy little body that made his cock harder than the stones which entombed him; but nonetheless, food.
But why put me to sleep for three hundred years? he wondered. Cristo sacro! Cimil must be mad. Who had been keeping the population of Obscuros at bay? What had happened to his men? Bloody Cristo sacro.
And surely there would be no chance of freedom now. While dormant vampires were like the dead and did not emit any energy, once awake their blood served as a beacon to their makers. The queen would use their bond to hunt and then disembowel him. Afterward, she would put him back together and haul him off to her dungeon where she'd deprive him of blood so he would not heal, leaving him in agony for eternity. Death was the only sanctuary for him now. Maybe the female would assist him.
He gathered himself together and looked down at the woman crumpled on the floor. So weak. Yet, so enticing. Just as Cimil had foretold.
Unexpectedly, something inside him shifted. He could … feel her fear. He could taste the acid churning in her stomach and the adrenaline catapulting through her veins. An overwhelming urge to protect her surged deep within.
"What have you done to me?" he whispered.
Her sapphire blue eyes flashed up at him. "What have I done to you?"
"Sì. I feel-I feel … you." His mind simply couldn't process the inundation of emotions. Was this some absurd joke? Or could she be … ? Impossible! Mates do not exist.
"I didn't do anything," she responded.
Bloody inferno! There it is again. He could feel her confusion.
He quickly reassessed the situation. If the slightest possibility existed that this mate nonsense was factual, then perhaps Cimil was not so mad after all. Cimil had cautioned he would not so easily accept a human.
True.
But if the prophecy was playing out as she had foreseen, then he still had a chance. Twelve weeks. Could he seduce the female into being turned by then?