This is book 2 in the New York Times and USA Today bestselling paranormal romance Accidentally Yours series.
"If you love her, set her free. If she comes back, she's yours. If she doesn't...Christ! Stubborn woman! Hunt her down, and bring her the hell back; she's still yours according to vampire law."
- Niccolo DiConti, General of the Vampire Queen's Army.
After a three-century "time out," legendary vampire Niccolo DiConti vows to fulfill an ancient prophecy and, along the way, defeat the demented queen of the damned. All he has to do is find his human mate, seduce her into agreeing to become a vampire, and bond her to him forever. Luckily, he's handsome, charming, and mind-blowing in bed. How hard could this be?
On vacation in sultry Mexico, biologist Helena Strauss makes the discovery of a lifetime when she meets Niccolo-and finds herself caught in a world of supernatural secrets and dangerous delights. Even more shocking is that he seems to know everything about her and claims her as his true immortal companion. Sure, she can't take her eyes-or mouth-off this gorgeous, perfect being. But can a hot-blooded gal like her really settle down with a cold-hearted vampire?
90,000 words
The Accidentally Yours Series BOOK 1: Accidentally in Love with...a God? BOOK 2: Accidentally Married to...a Vampire? BOOK 3: Sun God Seeks...Surrogate? BOOK 3.5: Accidentally...Evil? (a Novella) BOOK 4: Vampires Need Not...Apply? BOOK 4.5: Accidentally...Cimil? (a Novella) (Coming in January 2014) BOOK 5: Accidentally...Over? (Coming in August 2014)
Release date:
March 5, 2013
Publisher:
Grand Central Publishing
Print pages:
288
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Delirious with hunger, the weary vampire sat hip deep in mud, his broad back against a hollow tree as he glared at the crisp blue sky. The monthlong summer rains had abruptly retreated. Now how much longer could he wait for her? Hours? Days? Sunshine was not Niccolo DiConti’s most cherished friend.
“Magnifico,” he grumbled.
His gaze shifted to the nearby pool. “Where the devil are you, woman?” he growled. Endless days had passed without as much as a ripple on the water’s surface. This ancient Mayan ceremonial pool was the goddess’s favorite portal to the human world when she came scouting for souls—he’d paid a king’s ransom for that information—but she’d yet to materialize.
His shoulders slumped, and he sank deeper into the sticky jungle floor. Shards of painful sunlight pierced the tree canopy and danced across his face, a face gloriously referred to by many as that of a hardened warrior—dark features, a few character-building scars, and capable of producing a soul-chilling scowl when necessary. Today, however, he could not muster the strength to frighten a small child.
You are a pitiable mess, he thought for the hundredth time.
Struck hard by the irony of his situation, he let out a bitter chuckle. He was legendary for his raw power, intrepid leadership, and ruthless will to survive—no, not just survive, thrive. In any situation. Any century. But as soon as he saw her, he might actually beg like some lowly mortal serf.
Bene, anything it takes, he reminded himself. And count your blessings that your men are not present to witness your mental shipwreck on the Island of Self-Pity.
He closed his eyes, attempting to push away his bitter frustration, but his thoughts only swiveled toward his gnawing hunger. Hmmm, a rabbit or monkey … I must catch a little something to quell the hunger pangs—
“Well, well. What do we have here?” said a sultry feminine voice.
Niccolo’s eyes snapped open to find a dainty woman with long, wet ropes of red hair snaking down her naked body. “Cristo sacro! It is about bloody time,” he barked.
The woman arched one coppery brow. “Oh my, aren’t we a cranky little thing? And dirty, too. Had a little mud bath, did we, vampire?”
With her lean, almost boyish frame, the Goddess of the Underworld reminded him of a delicate fairy. But he knew better than to underestimate Cimil. Not only was she infamous for instigating mischief and being twelve cookies shy of a baker’s dozen, she also possessed powerful sight—thousands of years ahead, millions of possible outcomes. She was his last hope. Sad really.
“My sincerest apologies, goddess,” he said. “It is my lack of nourishment speaking.” He pushed himself slowly from the muck and stretched. “I have been waiting weeks, and as you are aware, the sun weakens my kind.” He wiped his dirty hands on his black trousers and then ran them through the length of his damp hair, shaking out the leaves.
She ogled him like a giant confection. “Well, well. If I’d known you were waiting, little dumplin’, I might have dropped in sooner. But I was deep in a trance, connecting to a future version of myself. Had to catch up on Dexter. What a hottie! That guy puts the errr,” she purred, “in killer. Ya know what I mean?”
Niccolo shook his head slowly, unsure of how to respond to her bewildering jargon. Having lived in a hundred countries and speaking dozens of languages fluently, Niccolo considered himself an educated man of the world. He’d even learned English from an Oxford scholar. Yet, he had never heard such colloquialisms.
“Not into Dexter?” She looked confused. “Oooh, I see. You’re a Walking Dead kind of guy!” She winked. “I gotcha.” She suddenly jumped to one side, away from a butterfly fluttering past, and then froze for several moments.
Unsure of what else to do, Niccolo cleared his throat.
She instantly snapped to life. “Hi. Who are you? And are you aware that good hygiene has made a comeback?”
Masking his confusion and ignoring the slight on his shabby appearance, he bowed his head and replied, “Niccolo DiConti, general of—” He caught himself and stopped. Perhaps he should not call attention to his identity. The gods might not be on his list of admirers. Although they should be. What was not to like?
Cimil’s eyes lit. “The Niccolo DiConti? What an honor!”
Niccolo stood a little taller then. “Yes, I seek your assistance.”
Cimil rolled her eyes. “Well, no duh. You didn’t abandon your queen’s side, risking her wrath, to see me in my fabulous birthday suit. Although …” she began slowly, pacing like a slinky cat. “You and I could have some fun together. I don’t mind a little dirt, especially on a tasty treat like you.” She licked her lips.
Despite her odd speech, Niccolo understood the gist. He ran both hands through his hair once again, this time with worry. Sex was the last thing on his mind at the moment, and the last few centuries, for that matter. Too much killing to do, he supposed. But a coldhearted female like her would never warm his blood, even if he had the urge.
Regardless, she was right. He had taken a substantial risk abandoning his post. By now, the queen was likely hunting him via their blood bond, and it wouldn’t be long before she caught up. Indeed, he needed Cimil’s help. Urgently. Only it had never occurred to him that she might ask for sex as payment. On the other hand, what woman wouldn’t want him?
He squared his shoulders and stared down at her. He could do this. Any price for his freedom, right?
“Bene. If that is what you wish, I will bed you in exchange for your assistance.”
Laughter exploded from Cimil. “Oh, would you relax, vampire? First off”—she held out her scrawny index finger—“I don’t need to blackmail men into sleeping with me.” She snorted loudly. “Because I’m loaded!”
Loaded?
“I do not see you carrying anything. In fact, you are nude,” he pointed out.
Cimil looked down at her body. “Oh, look! I am naked.” She frowned. “Heeey, it’s not polite to interrupt. I was telling you a story. Let me see …” She scratched her head. “Oh yeah. I was explaining how I’m so moneyed—that means ‘wealthy’ to you, Bo-Bo—I even bought myself a nice little sultan with a camel just last week.” She paused and tapped her finger on the corner of her mouth. “On second thought, he wasn’t worth the tiny island I had to trade for him, and the stupid camel doesn’t even fit through the bedroom doorway. I should go back to blackmailing men for sex. That’s a great idea. Thanks!”
Niccolo swallowed hard. Cristo sacro! I am going to have to sleep with the crazy she-demon. Perhaps he could secure the return of her island instead? He, too, was “loaded.” Might even have an additional island somewhere to sweeten the pot. To keep track of such things proved challenging after a thousand years or so of existence.
“And second”—she held out two fingers—“you’re really not my type. I like ’em warm. But I will take that shirt and those pants.”
Not her “type”? She is out of her mind. On the other hand, if the goddess merely desired his mud-caked clothes…
“Bene,” he replied. He could easily glamour new garments off a nearby villager later. He slipped off his not-so-white linen shirt and black trousers and stood before her in the buff.
A sly smile stretched across her pixie-like face before she whistled and gave him a leisurely once-over. “I like you, vampire. You have this whole tanned European NBA gladiator je-ne-sais-pas man-fusion thing going. I’m totally getting you.”
He had no clue what she’d just said, but he did not care to know or to waste more time. He tossed the clothes to her feet. “Eccolo.”
Still gazing at his nude form, Cimil sighed and then began dressing. “You even smell delicious. Like a hint of chocolate with vanilla, and …”
“Mud?” he said dryly.
“That’s it.” She slipped on his large shirt and pants. The five-foot woman looked like a child playing dress-up in her father’s clothes. “Well, Niccolo, I haven’t got all day. Why do you risk life and limb to see me?”
“My freedom.”
Cimil froze midway through rolling up a pant leg. “You want to leave the queen’s employ?”
He nodded with an uncompromising stare.
“Complicated. Unprecedented. Perfectly insane … I’m in!” She froze for several awkward moments and then sparked back to life. “Wait. Why do you need good ol’ Auntie Cimi’s help?”
Niccolo hated to air vampire business, but Cimil had to have heard of Reyna, the queen. “There is only one way to be relieved from her service: death. I would like to avoid it.”
“I see. You wouldn’t happen to have some wildly irrational reason for doing all this, would you? I love acts of futile insolence. They’re so whimsical!”
Trying not to sound like a pansy, he admitted, “I no longer wish to kill for her.”
“A vampire who doesn’t want to … kill? You don’t want to—” Cimil broke off, laughing hysterically. “That totally qualifies!”
Niccolo’s rage percolated as she clutched her stomach and slapped her knee. How dare she mock him! In truth, he had no objection to killing for the right reasons—for example, to protect the innocent from dark vampires, Obscuros—but for far too long he’d killed simply because he’d been ordered. He needed to be free, to know that every death he caused was justified.
Then there was the small matter of the queen’s mental instability, which undoubtedly fueled her unscrupulous behavior. The last straw had been when she demanded he blind the maid because the girl did not curtsy properly. He’d had to quickly call in several favors and get her a position with a respectable family where she’d be allowed to keep her eyes.
Sì, it was as clear as the fangs in his mouth; if there were a Crazy Shrew Olympiad, the powerful queen would triumph.
Upholding the Pact between the gods and vampires, destroying Obscuros, those were still worthy causes, but he needed to get far away from Reyna before he ended up killing her—an act that would have fatal consequences for any vampire unfortunate enough to carry her blood, including himself.
Cimil continued howling with laughter and then suddenly spotted a large black beetle strolling past her foot. Her eyes filled with horror. “N-n-no. I think you are”—she swallowed hard—“lovely. I would never say that.” She jerked her head up and looked back at Niccolo. “Okay. And if I don’t help you?”
Is she speaking to me or the insect? “Then I will die,” he answered anyway.
“Live free or die, is it?” she said, eyeing the bug again.
She is mad. Why did I come here?
“Sì. That is correct,” he replied hesitantly.
Cimil watched the beetle disappear under a rock. She sighed with relief and then continued rolling up the other pant leg.
“You’re like a bad bumper sticker,” she said.
Bumper sticker? Why does she insist on speaking in code? Niccolo began grinding his teeth.
She stood, grasping the waistline of the pants to hold them up. “Lucky you, I enjoy a challenge. You’d be surprised what dull, predictable things people ask me. ‘When will I die? When will the world end?’ Blah, blah, blah …”
Niccolo released a quick breath. “Will you assist me or not?”
“Sure, my little cupcake of despair. Now, normally I charge twelve ninety-nine, plus shipping and handling, but in this case I’ll cut you a deal. You will be indebted to me, and I will have the right to call in the favor at any time in the future or past.”
Past? That settles it. I have found another contender for crazy shrew. Very well, at least I will not have to sleep with her. He hoped. He, too, “liked ’em warm” and with a heart or a soul, for that matter. A little sanity might be pleasant, too.
“Agreed,” he said.
Cimil took several steps forward, closing the gap between them, and stared with her large turquoise-green eyes. “Prophecy time, mighty warrior. Kneel.”
Niccolo complied.
Baring a devilish grin, Cimil placed her soft hands on his cheeks and rubbed his unshaven jaw. “Oooh. Just like your eyes. So tough and black. The things your stubble could teach my calluses.”
Niccolo cocked one brow.
Cimil frowned. “No? Not into calluses? Fine, then.” She took a deep breath and then stared into his eyes before softly kissing his lips. She sucked in a deep breath as if absorbing his scent. “Okay. Up, up.”
That is all?
“Well?” he asked.
She turned and pushed through the thick underbrush, uncovering an overgrown path.
Niccolo trailed behind her, thoroughly perplexed. “Where the devil are you going?” he bellowed with his deep, commanding voice. “Tell me what you saw!”
“I was right about you, big guy,” she said. “You are a challenge, and I’m going to love watching you run this gauntlet. It’s a delightfully cruel one, at least for your shallow, undead mind.”
What the bloody hell?
She continued talking without slowing her pace. “I saw all possible outcomes of your life, and there is a path that leads to your release from Her Majesty’s command.”
“Is not dying part of the equation?”
She kept up the rapid pace. “You’re dead already.”
Touché.
Cimil stopped abruptly. Niccolo plowed into her back.
“Ow!” she yelped. A small flock of blackbirds burst from the bush to her side, chirping noisily as they fled to the sky. He winced as the sunlight continued to heat his skin and weaken him.
She spun to face him. “Listen, Hellboy, we need to make this quick. I have garage sales to hit and naughty souls to claim. Decide.”
“I do not understand.” Was this goddess tormenting him for sport? Why did she call him Hellboy? How very rude!
She poked at his bare chest with a razor-sharp fingernail. “You hate taking orders.”
Sì, true. After all, I am a vampire.
“And even if you decided to listen like a good little boy, the odds of pulling this off are slim to none.”
I happen to excel at all things impossible. I am a vampire!
“So don’t come crying if you end up in your queen’s dungeon.”
Vampires do not cry, silly woman.
“Tortured three times a day for all eternity, which is where you have a ninety-nine point nine-nine-nine percent chance of landing if you don’t do exactly as I say.”
Actually, those numbers are quite encouraging. He thought his odds were somewhere between pigs flying and hell freezing over. “Bene. I understand. Tell me what you saw, what I must do.”
“First, you will have to find your true mate. Or, more accurately, she will find you. A human, by the way.”
“Human?” That is disappointing. But, on the other hand, there certainly are more tedious creatures on the planet. Cimil, for example.
“Yesss.” Cimil narrowed her eyes. “And watch your tongue. I happen to be partial to humans—most, anyway. Clowns, not so much. Those evil bastards never stop smiling.”
Niccolo didn’t know what these “clowns” were, but he made a mental note to stay away if he ever encountered one. Sounded unpleasant.
“I did not say a word,” he retorted innocently.
“Good, because I’m warning you, if you’re not in this for the long haul, jump off the Cimil Soul Train now and boogie your naked body home.” Her eyes quickly shifted to a squawking toucan perched above on a branch. “Who the hell asked you? You can’t even dance. I mean, really.”
Niccolo scratched his chin, ignoring the bizarre behavior and the urge to wrap his hands around her neck. “My resolve will not waver.”
She stifled a laugh. “Even though your kind considers such a fate, to be with a human—your food—a curse?” She began laughing again. “This particular female will be disobedient, demanding, and a pain in your cold, old, naked ass. She’s also hotter than an apple pie fresh from the oven.”
Cimil’s description piqued his interest. “You mean to say … she is beautiful?”
Cimil smiled. “Irresistible. Sharp as a whip. Sexy. Perfect for you in every way.”
Niccolo felt his insides twist with anticipation. She would be his? All his? Hmmm. “Go on.”
She raised her brows. “Before you get all excited, Mr. Studtastic, there are rules. First, you must continue to uphold the Pact. No ifs, ands, or buts. That means you must keep that”—she pointed to his penis—“in your pants … when you find some, obviously. And those”—she pointed to his fangs—“in your mouth.”
The Pact had many parts to it, and he knew them all since he’d spent the last thousand years upholding its laws. It was central to maintaining the vampires’ existence; as long as they followed the commandments, they would be left alone by the gods to live. Rule one: vampires could not kill innocent humans—Forbiddens—although the queen’s compliance to this law was highly questionable. In any case, even the most honorable of vampires were known to lose control in the throes of feeding or passion. Therefore, those activities with Forbiddens were strictly off-limits, too. The only exception was for those mated to a Forbidden—practically unheard of—in which case, a careful, consensual nip here or there was allowed, but nothing more.
“Done,” he said. “I will refrain from biting without her permission. Nor will I sleep with her until she has been turned.”
“Not so fast, tomcat,” she added. “No biting, even if she begs. And she must be turned with her permission on the anniversary of your third month together. That very same day. Understand?”
“Why three months?” he questioned.
“Hey, buddy, my gig is prophecies and hunting for garage sales. I don’t make the signs, I just follow them.” She shrugged. “Anyhooo, the rest is up to you.” She turned and continued marching forward, quickening her pace. “So. You in?”
Niccolo looked from side to side. “In? In what?”
“Yes. In. Are you on board? Ready to throw down. Roll the dice. Ride that crazy cow called life and make her your bitch?”
Niccolo frowned. Her colloquialisms were simply offensive. And this coming from a ruthless vampire. “You are asking if I am committed. Sì?”
“Siii.” She rolled her eyes.
What other choice did he have? Besides, he did not believe in this ridiculous mate business. He had known tens of thousands of vampires over his existence, but only a dozen or so claimed to have found their true mate. It was extremely rare. And for those few, he saw no evidence they were anything more than contented couples who’d beaten the odds. There was no cosmic force at play.
As for his mate being human, he could find a way to cope temporarily. Sure, humans were only a step up from a cow or goat one would eat, or perhaps keep as a favorite farm pet; however, he wouldn’t be the first immortal to bear the shame of coupling with a human. It was manageable. Especially if she happened to be beautiful.
Whoever she was, he would woo her, set her up with only the finest of things, and after the three months were up, he’d have her begging to be turned. Once he was free from the queen, he had ample resources to provide his mate with a comfortable, separate life for eternity. Everyone would win. Everyone would be happy.
How doing all this could possibly free him from being that festering bunion of a queen’s general, he had no clue. He’d been warned that Cimil’s instructions were cruel at best, fatal at worst, and required an extreme leap of faith. But at this point, anything was worth trying. Hell, if he failed, there was always death. He hoped. The queen’s dungeons were notoriously hellish.
But he wouldn’t fail. He was the strongest warrior the vampire world had ever known. He had fought and won thousands of battles, upheld the Pact, and maintained the peace between the gods and vampires for a thousand years. This would be a stroll through the park … or jungle. Whatever.
“It’s much better than I’d hoped for,” he stated coolly.
Cimil’s eyes lit up. “All right then. Oh, and there’s one more thing …”
Cimil waved her hands and watched the vampire collapse to the ground. She poked him several times in the chest, checking to make sure he was out cold.
“Bene, Niccolo DiConti,” she said, perfectly imitating his deep voice. “Your mate will not be born for, oh, say, about three hundred years, and I have to entomb you in the meantime. Otherwise, you won’t live to see another full moon. Did you know your paranoid, sorry excuse of a queen fears your strength and plans to kill you? Crazy shrew. I wish I could take her out myself. But nooo.” She shook her head.
The beautiful, naked vampire lay completely oblivious over a bed of leaves.
Cimil sighed. “You are such a scrumptious man treat. How could anyone think of killing you? But I guarantee, after three hundred years, your queen will only be a teensy bit peeved by your absence, and she will have reconsidered her plot to murder you. You can thank me later.”
She leaned down and pressed her mouth to his full lips and then ran her finger along his chiseled jaw.
“Come, my handsome vampire. I have a few things I must do to prepare you. Then I’ll put you somewhere safe to await your bride. Oh—I know!” She clapped excitedly. “You can stay inside my piggy bank! And I’ll create a dramatastic jungle intro to your lady! How about Romancing the Stone meets Apocalypto?”
She flung the naked giant over her shoulder and gave him a loving pat on his bottom. “Watching you two will be so much fun! I might have to charge the other gods admission to this show when the time comes.”
Near Sedona,Arizona. Estate of Kinich Ahau, ex—God of the Sun
New Year’s Day
Teetering on the very edge of a long white sofa, Penelope stared up at the oversized, round clock mounted on the wall. In ten minutes, the sun would set and the man they once knew as the God of the Sun would awake. Changed. She hoped.
Sadly, there’d been a hell of a lot of hoping lately and little good it did her or her two friends, Emma and Helena, sitting patiently at her side. Like Penelope, the other two women had been thrust into this new world—filled with gods, vampires, and other immortal combinations in between—by means of the men they’d fallen in love with.
Bottom line? Not going so great.
Helena, the blonde who held two bags of blood in her lap, reached for Penelope and smoothed down her frizzy hair. “Don’t worry. Kinich will wake up. He will.”
Pen nodded. She must look like a mess. Why hadn’t she taken the time to at least run a brush through her hair for him? He loved her dark hair. Maybe because she didn’t truly believe he’d come back to life. “I don’t know what’s worse, thinking I’ve lost him forever or knowing if he wakes up, he’ll be something he hates.”
Emma chimed in, “He doesn’t hate vampires.He hates being immortal.”
Pen shrugged. “Guess it really doesn’t matter now what he hates.”Kinich would either wake up or he wouldn’t. If he didn’t, she might not have the will to go on without him.Too much had happened. She needed him. She loved him.And most of all, she wanted him to know she was sorry for ever doubting him. He’d given his life to save them all.
Tick.
Another move of the hand.
Tock.
And another.
Nine more minutes.
The doorbell jolted the three women.
“Dammit.”Emma, who wore her combat-ready outfit—black cargos and a black tee that made her red hair look like the flame on the tip of a match—marched to the door. “I told everyone not to disturb us.”
Penelope knew that would never happen. A few hundred soldiers lurked outside and a handful of deities waited in the kitchen, snacking on cookies; new vampires weren’t known to be friendly. But Penelope insisted on having only her closest friends by her side for the moment of truth. Besides, Helena was a new vampire herself—a long story—and knew what to do.
Emma unlocked the dead bolt. “Some idiot probably forgot my orders. I’ll send him away—”The door flew open with a cold gust of desert wind and debris. It took a moment for the three women to register who stood in the doorway.
The creature, with long, matted dreads beaded with human teeth, wore nothing more than a loincloth over her soot-covered body.
Christ almighty,it can’t be,thought Pen, as the smell of Maaskab—good old-fashioned,supernatural,pre-Hispanic death and darkness—entered her nose.
Before Emma could drop a single f-bomb, the dark priestess raised her hand and blew Emma across the large, open living room, slamming her against the wall.
Helena screamed and rushed to Emma’s side.
Paralyzed with fear, Penelope watched helplessly as the Maaskab woman glided into the living room and stood before her, a mere two yards away.
The woman raised her gaunt, grimy finger, complete with overgrown grime-caked fingernail, and pointed directly at Penelope. “Youuuu.”
Holy wheat toast. Penelope instinctively stepped back. The woman’s voice felt like razor. . .
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