Reyna took a few steps back and smiled. "Well, what can I say? I had planned to kill her so you might work for me again. But, what the hey, since you're here."

She pulled a long, razor sharp machete from her thigh-high boot. "Welcome to my party. Who's up for a round of pinata?"

Helena fought to suck the air into her lungs and push it out again through her scorching throat. The pain was excruciating.

In the back of her mind, she could hear the conversation between Andrus and Reyna, and for a moment, she believed things might end joyously for the two. In a dysfunctional, warped kind of way. Clearly, there was a valuable lesson to be learned in all this: couples, no matter what species, should have open communication. Honesty was the key to happiness. Yes. She felt the makings of a good self-help book in all this. She could gear it towards immortals and put her academic background to use.

But Andrus turned on Reyna, and the two were suddenly at it again. Helena felt another book opportunity: The Art of Letting Go of the Past, for Immortals.

Then, her knight in shining armor, Niccolo, appeared in the room. She'd thought her vampire would sift her away to safety and that she'd finally get to tell him the truth about what had happened with Viktor. But hope was short lived when Niccolo announced his intention to kill Reyna.

"I vote you and I kill Reyna together. I was about to do so myself," Andrus suggested to Niccolo.

Niccolo pointed one of his two gleaming swords at Andrus. "Stay where you are. I handed you over to Reyna, hoping she'd kill you. So I'm pretty damned sure you and I are not on the same team."

"Got me there," Andrus replied with a grin.

Helena senses heightened to a level she'd never imagined possible while she watched the three facing off. She inched across the floor, scooting several feet to the knife. She didn't know what she'd do with it, nevertheless having a weapon seemed like a good idea.

"How about I kill you?" Reyna pointed to Andrus. "Then you." She pointed to Niccolo. "And that little blond slut last."

Had the queen just called her a slut? That was like calling a Twinkie "a healthy snack." Or, like calling Cimil "well balanced." It wasn't even in the ballpark.

"At least I'm not a psycho immortal spinster," Helena retorted with a low, gravely voice, purposefully bating the queen to pull her attention away from Niccolo.

Reyna's eyes flared. "You die first!" She jumped at Helena.

Andrus was on Reyna's back in the blink of an eye.

Reyna turned, machete in hand, but Andrus hung on. If it weren't a life and death battle, the scene of a naked Andrus clinging to the queen's back like a rabid monkey might actually be funny.

The queen swiveled on her heels, back and forth, trying to shake Andrus off. She moved so fast, Niccolo had no choice but to stand back. Andrus suddenly lost his grip and tumbled to the floor. Reyna turned, but instead of going for Andrus, she lunged at Niccolo. He side-stepped her and she flew past him, skidding across the floor.

A look of unrelenting rage in his eyes, he raised his sword.

Time stood still.

Helena watched the blade barreling down like a hammer hell bent on slicing the world in two. How Helena did it was a mystery, but she moved herself between the blade and Reyna, hoping to stop the queen's death. Without Reyna, there was no Niccolo. There was no world. This was it.

Horror overtook Niccolo as he stared down at Helena's wide blue eyes, her body draped over Reyna like a shield. His sword had plunged straight into Helena's abdomen. Blood poured from the gaping wound.

"No! Helena!" He slid her off Reyna. His entire world shifted on its axis.

Niccolo had lived an obscenely long time, and he'd made his fair share of miscalculations. Regret was no stranger to this immortal. But if he gathered up every moment of remorse, sadness, anger, and pain, and then condensed them into one, it would only represent a fraction of the despair that struck him down at this very moment.

Nothing in the past, present, or future would ever matter as much as this very moment, for if she died...he'd destroy the entire fucking world, down to the last blade of grass with his own two hands to take his revenge on fate.

This. Isn't. Meant. To. Be.

Blood flowed like an unstoppable river over his lap, forming a crawling puddle on the floor. She could not survive such a wound. And if he tried to turn her now, his blood would simply run right out of her.

But he could not stop himself from hoping, trying. "Please, Helena. Drink."

She pushed his hand away. "You're too late," she whispered.

"No! Helena! Drink!" he refused to let her give up.

Again, she shoved his dripping wrist away.

"Why?" He felt his soul sinking into an abyss, into hell. "Why did you do it?"

Her hand trembling, she managed to raise her arm and stroke the side of his face. "To save you. Why else? If you kill her, you die. Everyone dies." Her sky blue eyes were filled with such love. And pain.

"I don't care about everyone! You are all that matters," he bellowed.

Helena smiled gently. "That's very sweet, Vampire. I love you."

Her eyes slowly closed. Niccolo heard her heart rate slow to an almost undetectable murmur.

No! He had to save her. There was still time.

He could stitch her wound and fill her full of his own blood. He scooped her in his arms and lifted her. His mind flipped through every memory of every hospital he'd ever been to. He was about to sift when he suddenly noticed the room was silent. Too silent.

"Cristo. No!" He'd been so wrapped up in Helena, he hadn't noticed that his sword had run through his beloved right into the queen's heart. His sword was forged with a silver alloy, especially designed to kill vampires. A direct hit to the heart was just as fatal as decapitation.

Reyna. Was. Dead.

No! No! No!

But there was no denying it; her eyes were as cloudy as a week old fish, and her body was disintegrating.

"Gods no!"

He could care less about Reyna, but how would he save his woman? His body now felt like he'd been submerged in hot liquid metal. Reyna's blood-the blood flowing through his veins which had kept him immortal all these years-was withering away. In a matter of moments, all that he was would be no more.

Helena...

Clutching his beloved like a cherished broken doll, his knees buckled. "I love you, Helena. Love you like no other man has ever loved a woman in the history of the world." He brushed the tendrils of her honey locks from her forehead. "I know a part of you still hears me, and you must know that you've meant everything to me. You are the light I've been deprived of for thirteen centuries. Do you hear me, woman? I love you!"

With those solemn words of desperation, he realized her heartbeat was gone. He never knew so much pain could be possible for one being to bear. What had he done to deserve this? Wasn't it enough that he'd had his human life, a life filled with love for his brothers and family, ripped away? Wasn't it enough that despite his loss, he hadn't crumbled? That instead, he'd chosen to dedicate his existence to protecting the innocent and killing Obscuros? He'd asked for very little in return: his freedom, which he no longer cared about, and now, for his mate to live.

Despair filled every crevice of his soul as he sat on his haunches, paralyzed while Helena died in his arms and his own life slipped slowly from his body, preventing him from saving her. "I will find you in another life, my love. I will always find you. We are meant to be together...forever."

A small chuckle came from Andrus who was curled up on the floor writhing in pain. Niccolo had almost forgotten about him. Black splotches covered Andrus' body. The spots were turning to gaping holes, some the size of grapefruit. He groaned as the holes seemed to be filling in with new pink flesh. The vampire blood in his body was dying, and the light of the gods was repairing him. Andrus' gamble had paid off.

"I'm finally free," he laughed quietly, his eyes empty.

Niccolo gathered up his strength and walked slowly to the bed with Helena cradled in his arms. He laid her down on the soft velvet comforter before taking his place beside her. The last memory he wanted was of sweet, beautiful Helena.

He stroked the loose strands of hair from Helena's face. She was so beautiful. He couldn't have imagined ever loving anyone so much. But he had. He still did. And he was grateful for it. He was grateful for every moment they'd had together.

I will find you in the next life, my love. This I vow.

He looked at his hand. The flesh melted away, leaving giant holes filled with ash. He gripped Helena with his last ounce of strength, hoping their souls might travel together to the next place, wherever that was.

"I love you, my bride."

Too overcome with pain as the queen's blood died inside him, his body gave out.

Chapter 22.

"Bravo! People. Well done! That was fabulous!"

Gripping Viktor by the arm, Cimil appeared at the side of the bed and began clapping and jumping as if she'd just won a shiny new car. "I can't remember how long it's been since we've seen such a fab show! This was drama-tastic! Better than Romeo and Juliet. Better than The Sound of Music, South Park, Trueblood, Dexter, My Little Pony, and Shrek put together!"

"Cimil, shut it!" Viktor barked. "You're a sick, sick goddess, and I sincerely wonder why the gods haven't locked you away yet."

Cimil's bright red lips puckered into an exaggerated pout. "I'm wounded, Malibu Beach Vampire. I thought we had something special, you and I. But now I feel like a razor head, toothpick, dental floss, Q-tip, gallon of gas, paper plate, plastic fork, space shuttle, baby seal soul, cruise ship, Swarovski crystal, and Faberge egg."

"Huh?" Viktor's face twisted.

"Yunno. Things you use once and throw away. Did someone forget his vampy oatmeal this AM? Jeeeez," she spouted.

Viktor snarled. "Yeah. Whatever. And for the record, you made me sleep with you. Blackmail-sex does not constitute 'something special.'"

Cimil coyly chewed her index finger and shrugged. "Well, you wanted to find out who the blonde wench from your dreams was and why she haunts you. I saw an opportunity to get a taste of that manly body of yours. What can I say? I'm an opportunist-or...a total whore. Gods, it totally rocks to be me!"

Viktor shook his head and stared down Niccolo and Helena. "Are you going to help me move them or not?"

Cimil sighed. "I suppose. Do you think Niccolo will ever forgive you for turning Helena into a vampire?"

Viktor growled. "You told me he would because I saved her. Since Reyna wasn't my maker, Helena will live on. Do you think he'll ever forgive you for turning him into a Demilord before you put him to sleep in your piggy bank?"

She shrugged. "Oooh. I hope not. I love conflict-World War Numero Dos...fucking awesome! Can't wait for number three! BTW-I wonder if we can come up with any new twists for these two lovers. Oh! How about Immortal Survivor? We can put them on an island with only each other for food. See who holds out longest?"

Viktor growled. "Don't even think about it, you crazy shrew. They've been through enough." Viktor scooped up Niccolo's limp body which was already healing.

Cimil shrugged and picked up Helena whose wounds were also now closing.

"I guess we'll come back for the other one," Viktor commented as he glared at Andrus unconscious on the floor.

Cimil narrowed her eyes. "That one is gonna need a little therapy after his ride on the crazy-Reyna bus. I'll have to take him back to my realm and see if that puts him right."

Viktor cocked his head. "You can take other beings back to your world?"

Cimil looked confused. "Nope. Private club. Gods and demigods only."

The realization hit Viktor. He looked down at Niccolo. "You mean, now that their vampire blood is dead...?"

Cimil nodded. "I know! It's fabulous, right? I love when we get new members!"

Helena's awareness of her own thoughts washed over her like an unrelenting fog. In the distance, birds chirped and a gentle breeze wafted through the treetops, penetrating the sanctuary of her deep slumber. The air was thick and warm like a soft, soothing blanket.

She was dead, right? Because, she didn't feel alive and she was certainly somewhere peaceful and quiet.

To her side, the fluid sound of gentle breaths swept in and out of her ears. In and out, coaxing her to fully awaken and open her heavy lids. What was missing were her own breaths. And her heartbeat.

Yes. heaven.

Her eyes crept opened. Her blurry vision cleared instantly, and her gaze gravitated toward the sublime male specimen sleeping at her side.

"Oh my God!" She flung herself over Niccolo's body, unable to believe he was truly there. Was he a dream?

"Oh, God. Niccolo, is it really you? Wake up. Please, wake up." Cupping both sides of his immobile face, she smothered him in kisses; cheeks, earlobes, lips, brows-not one centimeter was left untouched.

He remained peacefully resting, unaffected by her touches. Helena quickly looked him over, her hands frantically hopscotching over each of his limbs. Was he injured?

He seemed intact. He was dressed in all white linen, looking tanner than usual. Almost golden, in fact. His long dark hair was pulled back into a low ponytail.

No, he didn't look simply intact, he looked magnificent, and she could hear his heart steadily drumming away. He was alive! Definitely alive.

She moved her mouth to his and kissed his lips, face, and neck. Then she stopped to inhale his scent.

Man! He smells so good! Like a delicious bouquet of chocolates, vanilla, and spice. Her mouth watered. She licked her lips as her eyes zeroed in on the pulse of his neck. Fangs painfully popped from her gums along with the irresistible urge to bit him. Hard.

"Crap!" She covered her mouth and scrambled away. I want to eat him, and not in a naughty kind of way...

His eyes flew open, and he sat up. A large glowing smile swept across his face the moment he recognized her.

"Helena!" He jumped from the bed, grabbed her, and clutched her tightly to his body.

"Oh my God, you're okay!"

Niccolo kissed her with such passion that her toes curled. Every nerve tingled, every cell ignited with his touch. He electrified her body.