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An Excerpt from Vampires Need Not… Apply?
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In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
To my family. Thank you.
Humble Groveling Goes Out To
Thank you again to Beta Team Accidental (Kim, Vicki, Karen, Ashlee, and Nana). Your LOLs, Whats?, and Huhs? always make these books far more coherent for the general public.
Mimi Jean Street Team: many grovels for so many fun discussions and contributions to the man-parts vocabulary! You’re like my coffee break of laughter every day!
As always, thank you to my editor, Latoya Smith, and the entire team at Hachette! Many grovels for your hard work!
Elise H.: thank you for bringing the word hangry to my vocabulary. It just so perfectly describes how I feel at 11:00 a.m.
Cassie: I can always count on you for naughty brainstorming! Privie goes on the list of world’s best new words.
Ebook Piracy Note from the Author
Ebook piracy is NOT a victimless crime. Just ask us working moms! Please buy our books; don’t steal them or share illegally. This author does not authorize ANY “free download” sites or share sites to distribute her books.
Warning
This book contains excessive use of the f-word by an overly cocky deity, corny references to sitcoms, a unicorn, the answer to life’s questions, some very steamy jungle sex, inappropriate use of caramel topping, and poorly phrased Latin curses. In other words, Cimil approves.
Final Accidental Note from Cimil, Goddess of the Underworld
Well, my little people-pets, I must say that this journey has been a fun one. However, all things must come to an end, even for us fabulous deities. And though I know not (yes, I do; that’s a lie!) where this last leg of our voyage will take us, I have a few guesses. Would you like to hear them? But of course you would! Because I’m awesome, and you love hearing anything I have to say.
A. Minky, my unicorn, finds the light of Eärendil, learns to mass-produce it, and saves the planet with green energy. (And she marries Legolas. Their children have pointy ears and a uni-fang.)
B. Clowns all around the world rise up from centuries of oppression by my hand and take the gods out with their horrifying, unnatural smiles.
C. I save the day by winning a mean game of Hungry Hungry Hippos, thereby restoring the Universe’s faith in the power of the gods.
D. My stupid jokes finally catch up with me, and I am sent to live on another planet occupied by outrageously tiny, furry men with minuscule ding dongs.
Well, there you have it, my fun little humans. I hope you enjoy. And just remember, YOLO!
Mine Forever,
Cimil (Just… Cimil)
Prologue
Death is trying to seduce me.
I always suspected he would come for me after I survived the accident, and now there’s no doubt. And death isn’t some ominous creature that carries a bloody scythe, his face obscured by a black cloak, his spindly fingers protruding from the cuff of his dripping sleeve as he enters your dinner party, points to your plates, and declares in a gravelly voice, “You’re all dead. It was the canned salmon.” Oh no. This is no snarky Brit skit, and he’s no monster.
Death is a sex god.
He’s tall, built from indestructible solid bricks of muscle. His cheekbones are chiseled works of art, and his full, sensual lips are meant for doing anything but killing. Like I said, sex god.
How do I know this? He’s been watching me, whispering in my ear while I sleep, quietly hiding in the shadows while I eat, while I work, while I shower.
So for once, I’m turning the tables.
I follow the sound of his footsteps through my beach cottage, out my back porch, and then pick up his large footprints in the sand. I crouch behind the tall, dry grass blanketing the massive sand dune. The crashing waves mask the sound of my thumping heart and heavy, frantic breaths. I’m sweating like mad as the tropical morning sun beats down on my back, and I spot my stalker splashing in the waves.
He stands, and I can barely breathe when I look at him.
Though he’s nearly transparent, the outline of his naked body glistens with drops of ocean water reflected by the sun. I’ve never seen a more beautiful man. Shoulders that span the width of two normal-sized men, powerful arms and legs that make me wonder if he’s not actually carved from rock or molded from steel, and incredibly sculpted… jeez, everything. There’s not an inch on this beast—not a neck, an ab, not a pec or a thigh—that isn’t constructed from potent, lethal-looking muscle. Well, except his hair. Though I can’t see the color, it’s beautifully thick and falls to his shoulders. I imagine it’s a warm shade of brown, streaked with reds and golds. Because he’s utterly beautiful and that’s the kind of hair a beautiful man would have. Yes, he’s a god, not the bringer of death. And I can’t help but wonder why he’s made that way. Is it so that when he comes for me, there’ll be some sort of consolation—getting to see his face? I don’t know, but I’m not ready to see it yet. I want to live. I want to grow old. I want to fall in love. Just once before my time is up.
Yet somehow, I want him, too. Why? That’s gotta mean I’m loca, right?
My eyes study every poetic detail of this “man,” hoping to find answers. But there’s nothing. Nothing that will help save me from him.
Suddenly, I see his chin lift and his head turns in my direction.
Can he see me? Oh my God. He’s coming right for me.
I bolt from my hiding place and make a run for it. I know if I make it to my house I’ll manage to lock the doors, but that won’t stop him. There is nowhere to hide from death, but I run anyway.
I make it to my back porch and reach for the door, but I slip on something. Shit. Really? A banana peel?
My body crashes to the hard cement. My head cracks on the sharp edge of the porch’s step, and I can’t move. All I feel is my beating heart and heaving lungs, burning with fear.
“Dammit, woman. Why the hell do you always run from me?” His deep, melodic voice washes over me, and I love how it soothes my soul.
I look up and try to focus my eyes, but he’s difficult to make out. His dripping hair catches only a few rays of morning sunlight.
“You’re so beautiful,” I croak. “But I changed my mind; I don’t want to die. Please don’t take me away.”
I feel his warm hand brush against my cheek. “I am trying to save you, Ashli. Why won’t you let me?”
Why does he say that? Why is he lying to me? It doesn’t matter now, because I’m already dying. The darkness begins to swallow me.
“Shit!” I roll from my bed and fall to the floor with a thump.
Sonofabitch! Why do I keep having these dreams?
One
Camp Uchben. Sedona, Arizona. Near the Estate of Kinich Ahau, ex–God of the Sun. February 1
Eenie, meenie, miney, mo. Catch an invisible deity by the toe. If he hollers, don’t let go. Just give him Ashli and watch him—oh, dammit, what rhymes with go? Ho? Crow? Potatoooo?
“Cimiiil? Are you listening? Cimil!” Roberto the Ancient One rapped his pale knuckles on the thick glass of the holding cell. “Have you not heard a word I said, woman?”
From her cot, Cimil looked at the very large, very angry vampire standin
g outside her cell and wiggled her fingers. “Howdy, Bob!”
Dark, lethal eyes gazed back with frustration. Or was it lust? Maybe both? Yes! It’s lustfration! My fave!
“I sincerely hope,” he said, “that you were not in the midst of devising yet another escape from your cell. It would foil everything.”
Escape? Not even a magical flea—Minky, her unicorn, hated those—could escape this three-story underground prison built to contain the most powerful of creatures alive: the gods themselves. Now, as for the foiling? Well…
“How did you know?” she asked.
“Because I am your mate,” he said. “And you are the Goddess of the Underworld; you cannot help your evil ways.”
“Good point.” She sat up and sighed happily, tugging at the hem of her fuzzy pink tank dress. “So wassup?”
“I am here to tell you the first task is complete. And now we will have sex. Hard. Hot. Savage immortal sex.”
“Sex? What? And why are you speaking? You vowed not to speak until this was over. It’s not over.” Cimil feigned a sudden interest in her jail cell, twisting a long lock of hair around her finger. She knew how that drove him crazy. Her long red hair was his fave. Or was it her ass? Or perhaps both?
Thank the gods I don’t have a hairy ass. Then he’d never leave me alone.
Carnal eagerness twinkled in Roberto’s ancient eyes. “I have captured the gods. Something you wagered to be impossible. In fact, I want to hear you say it. Say I am this thing you call awesomesalsa. Because that is what I am.”
“Awesomesauce,” she corrected.
“Yes. That,” he agreed.
She stared.
“Cimiiiil?” Roberto’s eyes bored into her, cautioning not to push him. “Say. It.”
“Nope.”
“Do it or no Love Boat for you tonight.”
Dammit! Why are vampires so cruel?
“Okay.” She stomped her foot. “I’ll say it: You rock. You’re the most awesome vampire ever to walk the planet.”
Roberto crossed his powerful arms over his broad chest. “Aaaand?”
Cimil huffed like a crabby four-year-old. “And if the apocalypse is halted, I vow to have your love child.” Maybe. “And I will keep my vow to marry you.” Maybe.
He displayed a set of gleaming white fangs, grinning from ear to ear. “And we will not fail, Cimil. Just as you are predisposed for destruction, I am predisposed for victory. Don’t ever doubt that.”
It was true. Although Roberto was a vampire, really the king and father of all vampires, he truly was an unrelenting force for good. Yes, yes, and victory. The damn man never failed at anything. She, on the other hand? It was a little known fact that the Universe had wired her to be the bringer of destruction—aka the apocalypse—but that didn’t mean she wasn’t good. Right? For thousands of years, she fought her nature, always doing the exact opposite of what her instincts dictated. Okay. Didn’t work out so great; they were all going to die in seven months. But still, she’d tried. And now, Roberto insisted if they worked together, they could turn everything around.
Pfff… Yeah. Right. They had a ninety-nine point nine-nine-nine-nine-nine-nine… nine percent chance of failing. In fact, she was ready to throw in the towel and party, enjoy these final months of existence. But she did love Roberto. And she did want to make him happy. Letting him have this one last battle meant a lot to her crusty, old ex-pharaoh. Okay, she had other reasons, too. But those were not for sharing aloud. Not even with herself. After all, she was evil and not to be trusted.
“Ah! And here comes my first step toward victory now.” Roberto glimpsed at the prison entrance.
One by one, Roberto’s vampire soldiers dragged the unconscious deities and several of their mates inside the surrounding glass-walled holding cells. Why? Well, she’d told Roberto about the visions she’d had: The gods finally lose their marbles—damned marbles, always getting lost like a rabid flock of zombie sheep!—and end up fighting each other. Then boom! Over! Done! Planet bye-bye.
Solution? They’d subdued the gods right in the middle of a summit meeting by filling the room with a harmless yet powerful gas made especially for the occasion. Not such a bad plan except, well, imprisoning the gods to keep them from going to battle with each other was a Band-Aid. They needed to permanently alter the trajectory of their paths. That’s where Máax, the God of Truth, would come in.
She hoped. Or maybe she didn’t. Who knew?
Damn, I love being me. Especially right now.
“Boy, are they going to be peeved when they wake up.” How fun!
Roberto flicked his wrist in a casual kingly sort of way. “I care not if your brethren feel angry. I simply want sex, as you prom—”
“Cimil! What is the meaning of this?” Máax’s deep voice boomed inside the institutional-style structure.
Ah! Right on schedule.
“Showtime,” Cimil whispered under her breath. “Hey, Máax baby! Now, before you get your mankini in a bunch—you are wearing underwear, aren’t you? It’s kinda hard to tell, with you being invisible and all.”
Poor guy. He’d had his mortal shell confiscated oodles of moons ago as part of a major deity spanking (aka punishment). He’d violated several divine laws, including repeatedly breaking the ban on time travel. All for good reasons, but still, he’d landed himself the precarious title of the El Gran Bad Boy.
“Cimil! Why have you betrayed us?” Máax’s voice radiated just to Roberto’s left, outside her cell.
Because you’re about to have your world rocked, and I’m so gonna enjoy watching?
Cimil cleared her throat. “There is a perfectly good explanation. And you will notice that I, too, am caged! So, it’s not like I’m—”
“You are exactly where you should be, Cimil,” Máax growled. “You will release the others immediately, or I will remove your mate’s pinkies. With a rusty nail. Or perhaps, a power washer—”
“Yikes! Okay. I get the point Dr. Franken-ewww. But I can’t release them.” She smiled sweetly, hoping to win points.
“I’ve already alerted the Uchben army; you will not get away with this,” Máax warned.
“Ha! You think we didn’t expect that?” Roberto had seen to it that nothing, nothing would get in the way of this plan. In fact, Cimil had to hand it to him; Roberto was more impressive than the new unicorn tat on her bum. “Why do you think we rounded up the entire vampire army for this occasion? They’re right outside.”
“You lie,” Máax said. “The vampire army is on mandatory furlough at Euro Disney. I can’t believe I just said that. Sounds so fucking ridiculous.”
But it was true. On both counts. In accordance with ancient law, all vampires had been sent away on an obligatory, one-year vacation in celebration of the recent extermination of all evil vampires. Obviously, they chose the happiest place on earth for this vacation. After thousands of years battling evil, who wouldn’t? Of course, no one knew that Roberto had made up this ridiculous “ancient” law in an effort to gather them up in one place without rousing suspicion, only to redeploy them here for today’s special event.
Cimil gloated. “What can I say? Roberto’s the man. And by man, I mean he’s really awesome. ’Cause he’s not a man, but a vampire—my vampire. Did I tell you how he rocks my world? Did I? Huh? Huh? Hu—”
Roberto hit the floor with a thud. He clawed at his neck, gasping for air.
“Máax! No! Let him go!” Cimil wailed. “Dammit, you overly spunky, nudist deity! Let me explain.”
Roberto grunted when something punched his nose. Máax’s fist? Blood trickled from Roberto’s face, and he winced in pain.
“You have exactly three seconds, Cimil, or I will remove his head,” Máax roared.
“Wait!” Cimil pleaded. “How did we go from pinkies to heads? You skipped arms and kidneys. What about earlobes?”
“Speak, you batshit crazy wench!”
Roberto’s vampire soldiers gathered around, but Cimil waved them back. They kn
ew to obey her, no matter what, despite who wore the kingly britches.
“All right, but you’re not going to like this.” She cracked her knuckles. “Truth is, in about seven months, the gods destroy the planet. We get into some war with each other. I have done everything possible to change course, but I failed. Miserably. Locking us up is the only way to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
Máax released Roberto, and her beloved vampire sat up rubbing his neck, grumbling profanities in his native Egyptian tongue.
“This must be some sort of mistake,” Máax said.
I don’t make mistakes.
Yes, you do. Just this morning you lit your cell on fire while trying to make a grilled cheese with a flamethrower.
Fine… guilty as charged.
“Brother,” she said, “I’ve been dealing with end-of-the-world crappity doo for thousands of years, and I know when a dead end has been hit. The gods must be jailed until things are set right again.”
A long stretch of silence didn’t fill the air. Because silence can’t fill the air, now can it? That would be weird. Like saying—
Cimil! Focus. Get Máax on his way. He has work to do. “Look at me, Máax,” Cimil said. “You’re the God of Truth. You can smell a lie from a mile away.”
Another long, silent stretch.
“Truthfully,” Máax grumbled, “I find it difficult to know when you are telling the truth anymore. You’re so full of shit, even your aura is brown.”
Damn. He can see that? “That’s because I’ve been lying for so long, lies layered up layers of lies, that even when I tell the truth, I’m not really sure I am.” She shrugged. “Makes life kinda fun! Dontcha think?”
“No.”
Such a stick-in-the-godly-mud. “Okay, okay. I swear to you, on Roberto’s life—”
“Cimiiil? Do not tempt fate in such a manner,” Roberto objected.
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