'Oh I know that the music's fine like sparklin' wine go and have your fun. But while I'm gone don't forget who's taken you home and in whose arms you're gonna be. Oh darlin' save the last dance for me.'
He could not deny Nikola had loved her more than his wine and his experiments put together since Oxford, before the Five, before Johnny Druitt. She just couldn't find it in her to love him in return at the time.
James had been her savior, rescuer, comrade, companion, lover, friend, but never a best friend to whom she could tell everything and anything to. Nikola had always been her very best friend, from the day she had caught him sipping cheap wine and feeding his beloved pigeons.
Laying in his arms now after returning him to a vampire she thought back to the boy she met with hardly a word of English, his accent so thick as he rambled he would start speaking in Serbian. She would never forget the shocked expression on his face when she started talking back in his native tongue.
She could imagine now that they could have conversations in Serbian around John to torture the man she once loved, though most of the things Nikola would say would be unmentionable even to Helen's ears.
Helen had saved her last dance for Nikola, waiting until he couldn't die on her (very easily) and was much more sincere. She didn't love him like John or James, she loved him more.
Because who in their right mind could ever refuse him with that hair?