Accidentally...Evil? (Accidentally Yours)

by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

  Jake’s online profile said he was looking for someone special—someone to settle down with. That someone wasn’t me. How could it be? I was… complicated. My heart was trapped in some sort of bizarre purgatory, attached to a voice. Or, more accurately stated, attached to the endless images and fantasies my mind had conjured up to go with the stupid voice.

  I couldn’t go on with the date. There was simply no point. I had to get rid of Guy, or there would be no normal. No boyfriends. No husband. No wild monkey sex.

  I hiccupped twice, making Jake jump in his seat.

  He stifled a smile. “Oh, here. Try drinking some water.”

  I smoothed down the front of my dress, barely holding onto my tattered self-esteem. “I’m sorry, Jake, but you don’t want me. I’ve got so much baggage even JFK couldn’t handle it. But it was nice meeting you, and I hope you find that special someone.”

  Jake stared blankly and then nodded slowly.

  I bolted outside onto the bustling street filled with people enjoying their Friday night, living their lives while I continued hiccupping uncontrollably.

  “Emma, I’m glad you came to your senses. All this bickering is tiresome, especially when you know I’m right. That male was despicable. Why do you even bother to challenge me?”

  That’s when the doors flew off.

  “You horrible! Egotistical! Caveman! I’m done! Do you hear me? Done! You. Have. Got to leave!”

  Several couples scurried passed me. Although I was pretending to be talking to someone on my headset, I still looked like a detonating atom bomb in a green dress, mushrooming with toxic radiation.

  “I’m not going anywhere, Emma. Besides, what would you do without me?”

  “You can’t be serious!”

  “Why the hell not? If it weren’t for me, some sleaze ball would be using you for his sexual pleasure at this very moment. Is that what you truly want?”

  “Yes! Wait. No…” I sighed. “Don’t you get it?” I need to move on. I need a normal life. I can’t keep obsessing over you, I wanted to add and thanked my lucky stars Guy could not read my thoughts.

  “Once again, you ask this ridiculous question. The answer is no! I do not ‘get it.’ I do not ‘get’ your determination to throw yourself into situations that will only cause trouble. And as long as I exist, I have vowed to protect you… even if it’s from yourself.”

  “Protect me? Protect me?” That was always his fallback line, but he never could explain why that was even necessary. What the hell did I need protection from? “You’re not protecting me—you’re hurting me. And if you’re not going to tell me why, there’s nothing left to talk about.”

  “I’ve still got plenty to say, little girl.”

  “No! This is over! Do you hear me? I’m ending this.” I stepped off the curb into the crosswalk, continuing to stomp my way home, determined to find the answer to my million-dollar question: How? How, dammit, would I get rid of him? I’d researched exorcists, psychotherapy drugs to block him from my mind, shock treatment, but nothing gave me hope of extracting him without exposing myself and being locked away in a white padded room. Just then, from the corner of my eye, I saw a set of lights barreling down on me and felt my body fly through the air before everything went dark.

  ACCIDENTALLY MARRIED TO… A VAMPIRE?

  ACCIDENTALLY YOURS, BOOK 2

  Prologue

  July 12, 1712, Bacalar, Southern Mexico

  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 month-long 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.

  Buon, 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 in a deep trance. 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 li
ke 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?

  “Buon. 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…

  “Buon,” 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 dirty laundry, 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, eying 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. “Buon. 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.