Accidentally...Over?

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Accidentally...Over? Page 9

by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff


  Ashli huffed, “You’re joking, right?”

  “I do not joke.”

  She rolled her eyes. “ ’Kay, buddy. Whatever.”

  “My name is Máax, not Buddy.”

  She smiled as if trying not to laugh. “Máax. It’s a nice name.”

  “Not really, but it is a story for another day. In the meantime, you will answer my question.”

  “Listen to you. You’re like a robot. Are all gods so stiff? Christ, I can’t believe I’m having this conversation.”

  “I am very ancient, Ashli. I simply do not see the need to add hyperbole to my speech or inflection to my voice. It will do little to impact the situation. A situation, I might add, that is dire, yet you refuse to take seriously. But I assure you, there is nothing more serious than this. I must keep you alive so that you can fulfill your destiny, which is why you need to come clean. What are you hiding?”

  “Hiding? Me? Like what?”

  “You’re the key to stopping the apocalypse. There has to be a reason why—your family history, special abilities, something. And do not lie to me; I will know.”

  Ashli rolled her eyes. “You can’t seriously believe I can stop the end of the world? That’s absurd.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.”

  “Wow. You’re a real charmer.”

  “Yes. I am. It comes with the territory. Now stop avoiding the question, woman.”

  She threw up her hands. “Listen to yourself. Do you honestly think I have a clue what you’re talking about? Or that if I did, I’d lie about it? I hate liars. Dishonesty is for cowards and criminals.”

  “And you have no idea why the Universe wishes to extinguish you?”

  “Ohmygod! No!”

  Fantastic. This was like trying to steer an oil tanker through a maze of icebergs while blindfolded. At night. Alone. While doing tequila shots and hopping on one foot. “Then I have no choice but to take you somewhere safe. You will pack your things immediately.”

  She stifled a chuckle and then released a frustrated breath. “What makes you think I’m safer somewhere else? If my number’s up, it’s up.”

  Fucking hell! Why did she not understand? That was not how the Universe functioned. Survival of the fittest. You fought or perished. Nothing was handed to anyone. It was a brutal, brutal world that required an iron constitution, conviction, and determination. Without those, you’d be overrun by the will of many. Drowned by their competing agendas.

  He growled. “If you are not willing to fight for your existence, then I will. I will not allow you to take such a complacent approach.”

  “So you’re a superhero, Máax? You think you can stop the planet from spinning, change the order of the seasons, stop time?” she asked.

  “But of course. I am a deity.” Had he not said this already? What was the matter with this woman? “However, this does not signify that I do not encounter my fair share of challenges. Such is life. Complications are to be expected. For example, I cannot be allowed to encounter myself. It would be very destructive for the order of the Universe, which is yet another reason we should leave.”

  She grabbed a pen off the counter and marked a giant X on her puppy calendar. “Okay, then.”

  “What is the meaning of that?” Did she want to play tic-tac-toe?

  “Today is the day I’ve heard it all,” she explained.

  Oh. Good. Because tic-tac-toe was his competitive Achilles’ heel. Once he started, he couldn’t stop until he won. “In actuality, you have not ‘heard it all.’ You haven’t begun to scratch the surface of my world; however, that will have to wait. We must leave.”

  “You don’t actually expect me to pick up and go? Who’ll take care of the café? Fernando’s new; he can’t run the place by himself.”

  “This is why I did not return to you immediately. I have made arrangements for your café and home to be looked after for as long as you are away.”

  “By whom?” she said bitterly.

  “We call them Uchben,” he explained. “They are our human allies and manage our affairs in this realm.”

  She laughed and put another X on her calendar. “Sure. Why not?”

  She was mocking him. And sparking an urge in him to draw a circle on her calendar. “Do you truly find it hard to believe?”

  “I can’t just let some strangers take over my life, Máax.”

  “Then we shall stop by your café, and you will meet our most valued Uchben soldiers: Brutus and his men. Then they will no longer be strangers. I have also arranged for the Uchben to take us to my brother’s home in Arizona. It is the safest place I know. There is a large Uchben encampment a few kilometers away, along with our private hospital, underground bunker, and 24/7 security.”

  She frowned and rubbed her temples. “I’m not going.”

  “Of course you are; I told you so.” Was her hearing impaired by the head injury?

  She gasped. “You can’t expect me to uproot and leave behind everything I love because you mistakenly believe I’ll save the world someday. Or because you tell me to. This. Is. My. Home.”

  “And I. Am. A. Deity. I am never mistaken, and it is my job to tell you what to do.” Ridiculous woman. Does she not understand the order of the Universe?

  “I will say this once and once only”—she lifted her index finger in the air for emphasis—“I don’t care if you’re the pope who’s got a magical lottery wand powered by unicorns, you don’t rule me.”

  Infuriating woman! What importance do Minky and the ruler of the Catholics have to any of this? He took a step toward her, barely resisting the urge to shake her by the shoulders and spank her silly. “You are a human. Hu. Man. Simple. Mortal. Naive. I am a god. Immortal. Ancient. Wise.”

  “You’re an ass. That’s what you are.” The smoldering fury in her hazel eyes caused him to take a step back and check for any shovels. Coast was clear.

  “You call me an ass, yet you are the one fighting to stay inside this hovel. It doesn’t even have air-conditioning.”

  “This hovel was built by my parents. I love this hovel!”

  “It is still just a home. A material thing that can be replaced like any other. Your life, on the other hand, cannot.”

  “I’m. Not. Leaving.”

  He sighed. This conversation wasn’t going according to plan. Perhaps if he explained his superior rationale, she’d understand why his plan was best. “Ashli, can we please cut the crap?”

  “Finally! A word I understand! Crap. Which you’re totally full of.” She crossed her arms and leaned her weight on one foot, causing her hip to jut out. He couldn’t help but note how her feisty, defiant nature made him hot under the collar. Metaphorically speaking. The fire in her hazel eyes, her heaving chest, the blush on her outraged cheeks were enough to make his cock turn into a sold brick.

  Sonofabitch. He stepped back, not wanting to poke her with the fucking thing. He glared down at his throbbing erection. Not that he could see it. Really? Can you not wait until we are somewhere private? Though he could not leave her again to take care of business. With his luck, a 747 packing piranhas would crash into her house and take her out.

  Dammit. He needed to calm her down. He needed her to cease this exasperating—okay… stimulating—behavior lest he be forced to bend her over the kitchen counter and fuck her like a mindless beast, possessed by lust.

  Breathe, breathe, breathe. You will not think of mounting her like a randy little dog. You are a god. Divine. Above your physical needs.

  Tell that to your raging erection.

  “Ashli,” he said in a forced calm, “I merely wish to provide the optimal circumstances for your survival.” Without her, the world was doomed. She had to see that.

  “Poke my eye.”

  “Sorry?”

  “Poke it,” she said. “My eye.”

  With what? Because surely, she can’t mean what I think she means. “Care to elaborate?”

  “I’d prefer that over listening to the stick up your ass talk to
me.”

  “Grrrr…” He was a deity. Not to be defied or trifled with. Why would she insult him? “You cannot see me, so I will tell you that at this very moment, I am looking at you in such a way that would convey utter fury. You are insolent, ungrateful, and rude. I cannot, for the life of me, understand why the Universe thought to pair us. But I will tell you this: your unappreciative, peasantlike attitude only affirms that I’ve made the appropriate decision to have all memory of you wiped from my mind once I have saved you.”

  Ashli’s eyes opened wide and then narrowed into tight little slits. “What did you just say, Casper?”

  “I know not who this Casper fellow is, but I am more suited to be mated with a festering pile of cow dung than to you. I plan to save you, then have you forever removed from my mind.”

  “Couldn’t agree with you more! Festering pile of shit would be perfect for you!”

  “No,” he clarified. “Better than you. A festering pile of dung is better than you because it doesn’t waste its time with silly, irrational attachments to houses when the fate of all life hangs in the balance.”

  I cannot believe I just said that. I am an idiot.

  Her eyes went from anger to something resembling wounded, and his heart instantly retreated from its self-righteous rage. Why had he said that? Yes, he’d meant it—well, sort of; the woman wasn’t without her jaw-dropping, attractive qualities, to be sure—but that didn’t mean he had to hurt her feelings. After all, she was his mate. It was his job to make her realize how special she was and to make her feel adored.

  Perhaps it is you who is beneath the dung. Yes, you belong in a dungeon for unworthy dung.

  Shut up, you idiot.

  Her gaze dropped to the floor. “I see.”

  “What I meant to say was—”

  “Don’t.” She held out her hand. “I get it. No need to explain. You win. I can’t fight anymore. I don’t have the strength.” Ashli sighed exasperatedly and turned toward her bedroom.

  Fantastic job, asshole. “Ashli, you must listen—”

  “Will he mind?” She stopped with her back to him.

  “Will who mind?”

  “Your brother?” she asked solemnly. “Will he mind us barging in?”

  So she’d given in and seen he was right. Winning! He hit pause on his ego’s victory lap and noticed something odd. Funny, the victory feels more like a loss. Why was that? Could it be because his winning the argument had been at the expense of her feelings? He didn’t quite know.

  “In this particular juncture of history, he and my other brothers and sisters are currently trapped inside several cenotes a few hours from here.”

  She looked toward him from over her shoulder. “Should I ask why you don’t free them?”

  “I, too, am with them—the version of me that exists in this time—but we will be freed in about nineteen years.” He chuckled. “Ironically, twenty years into the future, they are locked away again but inside glass jail cells. I sense a theme emerging.”

  Ashli glared for a moment and then shook her head.

  “It is a long story,” Máax explained, “but I’m sure it will all work out in the end.” Perhaps.

  “Whatever. I’ll go pack.” She disappeared down the hallway, punctuating her annoyance by slamming her bedroom door.

  Fury, confusion, denial, and sadness churned inside Ashli’s heart like a temperamental time bomb, ready to burst in her chest. Was the world really going to end? How? And why did he believe she’d be the one to stop it?

  Completely ridiculous! There was nothing special about her other than she’d been right about death chasing her. And that those dreams of hers weren’t dreams at all. She really had died. Or was about to die?

  Ohmygod. This is depressing.

  She sank down on the edge of her unmade bed, trying to catch her grip. But what shocked her most was how wounded she felt. That invisible being in her living room had said he couldn’t stand her. He’d compared her to a pile of poop and went so far as to say she was beneath it.

  What a complete jerk! Arrogant, pompous, a-hole extraordinaire! And yet, a stupid little part of her actually felt wounded. Yes! Wounded. Like a child on a playground who’d been told she had cooties or had bad breath by the cute boy.

  She cupped her hand in front of her face and sampled her breath. Still smelled like raspberry tea.

  She chuckled at herself. Oh my God. You’re better than him. Who cares what he thinks? That’s right. In fact, I’m glad he’ll be out of my life for good once this is all over. The dude is transparent and the biggest Cro-Mag to walk the planet since… well, the Cro-Mag! Though she knew damned well he was a god and had the body to prove it, which brought her to the next set of unsavory thoughts. She still felt drawn to him. Yep. Genuinely—gulp!—fascinated by the entire unfathomable mess.

  Gods actually exist. Gods actually exist. “Gods actually exist,” she repeated aloud.

  Who would have thought? Now she had so many new questions. Not only about Máax, but about the others, too. How old were they? Where did they come from? Couldn’t one of them speak to Death and just tell him, her, or it to go away? Were all of the male gods as sexy and mysterious as that invisible, card-carrying member of the club-toting club; that manpig; that testosterone-spewing, tank-sized male in the other room? He is not, and I repeat, not sexy and mysterious. Nor does his smell drive you crazy. And you do not have fantasies of him climbing into your bed at night, feeling that warm, solid co…

  Ashli! Stop that!

  But for three long years, she’d had those erotic dreams of the faceless man. The way he held her against him, their naked skin pressed together, the weight of his large body moving between her thighs and his thick, hard—

  Gah! What is wrong with me?

  But were those dreams premonitions, too?

  Wait. Hadn’t she just established that he was beneath her? Hell, the “guy” had just shown his true col—okay, not colors—but the guy was a complete miscreant! So why had her mind made this lame-girl U-turn and meandered back to pining for him without her permission?

  Strange. That was so unlike her. The urge to want him, despite her not wanting him, felt overpowering, as if someone else was in the driver’s seat. Maybe it had something to do with this mate thing that Máax had mentioned? But then the connection couldn’t be that strong, could it?

  Ashli’s heart returned to an erratic beat. He’d said he was going to erase her from his mind. Maybe the connection between them was more than just a subtle, annoying attraction. Truthfully, she’d been feeling strange from the moment they’d met. She felt all weird and tingly. Maybe when he’d said “soul mate,” he’d meant it as the true meaning of the word.

  I’m in serious trouble. Maybe she’d ask to have him erased from her mind, too, once this was all over.

  “Over can’t come soon enough,” she mumbled.

  Ten

  After the strange, uncomfortable walk to her café with the pretentious invisible man—uh, deity—on her heels, Ashli didn’t know what to expect when she arrived.

  More weirdness, she guessed. Of course. What else? This entire situation was an insanity apple covered in insanity caramel. On an insanity stick.

  Apocalypse! Yeah, right. And there was no way in hell she was any sort of savior of the planet. She ran a café.

  Okay, but a few days ago, you would have said that the existence of gods or that Death was really after you was crazy.

  Crap. Could there be any truth to what Máax had said?

  At least it was late morning and the rush of vacationing caffeine addicts would be over. She wouldn’t have to worry about having an epic freak-out in front of a ton of customers. The thought of a bunch of soldiers running her café and of her leaving it behind for an indefinite period of time did not sit well. The café was a piece of her family’s history, a cherished, beloved heirloom.

  She approached the first small bend in the beachfront road, the one that skirted the edge of the eco-resort
next door to her café, and noted something odd: a crowd. All female. Right in front of her shop. Given this was low season for tourists, it was normal to see a few random people strolling down the narrow dirt road, but not a crowd.

  Was someone famous in town? Maybe Spin Doctors, Meat Loaf—gasp!—Nirvana?

  She approached, realizing the crowd was really a line flowing from her café into the street. She squeezed her way past the eager, chatting women through the front door.

  Huhhh?

  A team of six men—enormous, frigging smokin’ hot, unshaven men, wearing cutoffs and well-fitted tees—were busing tables, washing dishes, and sweeping the floor. The drool practically flowed from the women’s mouths as they gawked and ooh-ahed, waiting for their turn to order something from the largest man, with cropped brown hair and stunning green eyes, who stood behind the register beside Fernando. Ashli had never seen so many sexually ravenous women, nor had she seen so many people inside her tiny café.

  Speechless, Ashli also stared at the burly men. The white aprons they wore, the ones with the café’s logo—a tiny, fluffy cloud that said “Cielito Lindo”—looked more like doilies pasted on their massive chests. It looks like my café was taken over by Chippendales. And at any moment, the men would burst out into a choreographed dance where they’d reveal that those cutoffs were seamed with Velcro.

  Fernando looked up and spotted Ashli. “Caray, Ashli. Where have you been?”

  She made her way to the register only to be stopped by a short little lady in a neon-orange beach dress. “Excuse me, but the line is back there.” She scowled.

  Ashli glimpsed at the mob of glaring female beachgoers. They looked like they might drag her outside and beat her with their flip-flops.

  “Uhhh… sorry ladies,” Ashli said apologetically. “I just need this guy for a moment. But I’ll leave the big one right where he is.” Ashli pointed to Fernando. “Can I talk to you outside?”

  “Yes, please,” he replied and quickly followed her toward the back patio, out to the beach.

  She knew Fernando was about to start asking all sorts of questions, but what would she say? The truth was completely out of the question. Death is stalking me. An annoying, arrogant, rude, handsome, sexy god, who smells like heaven and is completely transparent, was sent from the future to prevent me from dying, so I can save the planet someday—not that I believe it. Oh, and I’m supposedly his “mate,” whatever that means, but he finds me beneath him and plans to have me wiped from his memory. That bothers me. I don’t know why. I’m stupid.

 

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