“And how do you know I can be trusted?” Máax asked.
“You are the God of Truth,” the driver said.
“Ah! There you have it, Ashli. Proof that I am real and the God of Truth.”
The God of Truth? Wow. Impressive. She happened to be a big fan of his work. Honesty was highly important. But still, the strangeness of it all was… well, strange!
She groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. “But I barely know you.”
“Then we will get to know each other,” Máax said before telling Timothy to turn around and drive slowly on the shoulder.
But what if she died again? Would she dream about this very moment like she dreamed about those other visits he’d made? None of which had happened yet?
Infernum, this is so freaky. Oh, great! Now I’m speaking Latin.
“And as it just so happens,” Máax added, “I do not plan to let you out of my sight, so there will be plenty of time for talking.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “Timothy, please activate plan D.”
“Plan D?” Ashli asked. “What happened to C?”
“Plan C involved taking you to my private island in Greece. Though it is patrolled by Cimil’s unicorn and quite safe, I doubt that we could get you there in one piece.”
Unicorn? “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“I do not kid. My first island was destroyed by my sister Cimil. This one isn’t as large as Atlantis, but it is still nice.”
Atlantis? That was real? “I meant the unicorn, but—Wait, if Atlantis was your island, doesn’t that make you… What was that Greek god’s name? The ocean god.” Mythology was not her best subject in college. Yes, lots of cobwebs in that part of her brain.
“Like the other deities, I am known by many names depending on the culture. However, I believe you are referring to Poseidon,” he replied dryly. “But I never carried a giant fork. What preposterousness.”
Ohmygod. I am not actually having this conversation.
“It was a crude version of a surfboard,” he added. “And I didn’t carry the damned thing around like a scepter or make oceans gush from the ground with it. I rode waves with it.”
A surfing, invisible god? “I have heard it all.”
“You have? Because I assure you, the Greeks’ version of me and my thirteen brothers and sisters holds no bearing on reality. It was far more insane. That whole naked Olympics thing: Cimil’s handiwork.”
Okaaaay.
“Cimil?” Ashli asked.
“My sister,” he explained. “However, we are not related technically. Deities do not have parents, although I do consider her my family and often wonder why. She is quite insane. Means well, but cannot help trying to blow up the planet.”
Eeeesh. For the first time ever, Ashli was grateful for being an only child. On the other hand, it sounded kind of fun to have such a large family. With powers. And immortal. Trying to blow up the planet.
Okay. Maybe not.
“So if you don’t have parents how were you born?” she asked.
“We do not really know. Similar to humans, we don’t remember our births. We simply recall small fragments of our early years, perhaps as a child might. When we grew older, we learned more and more about who and what we were. But everything we know comes from thousands of years of trial and error. Including the fact that we are bound to the Universe, slated to serve humanity for eternity. Not that there will be an eternity if we don’t determine how to keep you alive.” He paused. “Are you certain you do not know what it is you are meant to do?”
“The only thing I know is that the cosmos hates me and wants me dead.”
“You mustn’t take it personally,” he said.
Nooo. Why in the world would she take that personally? “Well, lucky for me,” she said. “I’ve always tried to focus on being grateful for what I have.” And right now, she was grateful for a place to call home. A place filled with memories of her family and as good a place as any to die if that was going to be the case. She just wished that her death didn’t mean the end of the world, too. Not that she actually believed it would end.
Okay. Maybe someday. But in twenty years? All because she didn’t do something?
“No, woman, you are mistaken,” he said, his voice filled with deep conviction. “We fight every step of the godsdamned way, every godsdamned moment, for every godsdamned inch. We never give up. We never given in. Complacency is the devil if there was a devil. Which there is not. There’s only Cimil. And her unicorn. And her very powerful vampire ex-pharaoh mate who wouldn’t know a smile if it bit him on his cold immortal ass.”
“Did you just say ‘vampire’?”
“I am nodding.”
She was glad he had pointed that out. “Okay. Now I’ve heard everything.”
“Once again,” he said, “you are mistaken. You’ve only scratched the surface, I assure you.”
What could he possibly mean? Did she even want to know?
“Ah,” he said, “we have arrived. I will tell you more once we are inside.”
“Oh, goody. Can’t wait.”
Eleven
Máax had been wrong. Very, very wrong. A first, really. After all, he was a god. And a damned magnanimous one. But ignoring his connection to Ashli, and the accompanying desires and emotions, was not feasible. The hold grew stronger with every passing second. And now, that little thing called logic, which he prided himself on having mastered many millennia ago, had deflated like a punctured life raft. And it didn’t seem to matter how much logic he puffed back into the godsdamned thing—you cannot be with her; you will be entombed for all eternity; it is unfair to both of you to pursue your desire—logic hissed out of the gaping hole.
Simply put, he wanted her. Quite badly.
Earlier, as they’d stood on the beach while she spoke to that silly Fernando boy, who followed her around like a godsdamned puppy, Máax hadn’t been able to resist marveling at her sensual beauty. The way her short white cotton dress hugged the shape of her petite, athletic frame when the wind picked up and how those tiny little straps highlighted her delicate neck and that sun-kissed, cocoa-brown skin made him realize how stunning she truly was. She simply radiated beauty—the timeless sort that could make a man feel lucky every day of his existence.
Then he’d noticed her beautiful hazel eyes shimmering in the sunlight as she’d looked up at Fernando. That had been what triggered his bout of jealousy. He didn’t appreciate any other males looking at her. He most certainly didn’t appreciate her looking at them.
Hisssss… Adios, logic. Because she was his.
Fucking hell. This bond was turning him into a childish, immature, weak… No! You are a god. You fear nothing and no one. You need nothing and no one. You never give in to weakness. You never fail.
Now more than ever, he needed to remind himself of that because the situation had become significantly more challenging. Not that it concerned him. He would prevail. However, the moment the news came in about the plane blowing up, it became obvious that a force much more powerful than he’d realized was determined to hamper him from saving Ashli.
Remain focused and all will be fine.
But you’re a fucking mess! He scolded himself. His emotions threatened to get the best of him, his temper was barely in check, and his cock on high alert every two minutes. Down for fuck sake!
This was not going well. For the first time in Máax’s existence, he began to worry that he might fail a mission. Sadly, it would cost everyone dearly if he did.
When the SUV pulled into her driveway Ashli immediately felt like Dorothy returning to Kansas. Sure, she’d only been gone for about an hour, but…
There’s no place like home, no place like home, no place like home. Except that some of Oz had returned with her. Case in point, Mr. Invisible and his trusty pack of men in black.
And Death is hunting you. Don’t forget that.
No, she knew she wasn’t out of danger, but the Spanish-style cottage was a little slice of heaven.
She couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. Which was good, because…
“You are not to leave your home for any reason, do you understand me, Ashli? Not for any reason.” Máax opened her front door (it flew open all by itself), and the two suited men from the SUV immediately went inside to inspect. She felt like the president.
Yeah. Of Wacky Town.
“But,” she protested, “I have to go to the café and—”
She felt Máax’s warm, sweet breath bathe her face as he growled right into it. “Not. For. Any. Reason.”
“All clear, we’ll be outside. The other six guards will be here in five minutes.” The two suited men exited the front door and closed it behind them.
“Cuh! We’ll see.” Obviously, she wasn’t going to win this argument. Not that she needed to. They could say anything they liked, but it wouldn’t change two facts: she was going to live her life as she always had, and she wasn’t afraid of dying.
She headed toward the kitchen to prepare a sandwich and some iced tea. She opened the fridge and began pulling out bread, cheese, and ham—
“Nope.” Máax snatched away the food and shoved them back inside her fridge. “Soup. You will eat soup.” Cabinets started opening and shutting. “Where are your canned goods?”
“You’re delusional if you think I’m going to stay indoors, eating soup.” Not when the most beautiful ocean was right outside her doorstep. And dammit, there were carbs to be had. Lots of comforting carbs!
“This is temporary, woman. Suck it up and quit your complaining.”
“How temporary?”
“In a week or so”—Máax rifled through her cabinets, his quest for soup unrelenting—“I will return to the time from where I came. If you are still alive, then we will have succeeded.”
“You’re joking. You honestly think this will blow over in a week?”
She heard him scratch his stubble. “I admit that I am at a loss as to why the Universe desires your death. I’ve never seen anything like it; however, this cannot go on indefinitely. Nothing is constant in this world except change, and eventually, the Universe will seek to balance out the scales some other way.” He paused and scratched again. “I’ve also never failed at anything. Ever. You will survive.”
Was he saying that to comfort her? Regardless, she couldn’t resist liking him for it. More than she should.
“Ugh. The soup is in the pantry.” She walked over to pick out her own dang can of lunch. Máax’s heavy steps followed. She felt like she had an invisible watchdog on her heels. A really, really large watchdog. Thump, thump, thump.
“Exactly how tall are you again?” she asked.
“Seven feet.”
“Holy crap. You’re huge.” She plucked a can of chicken soup from the shelf.
He snickered. “I am a god. We are known for the categorical perfection of our form.” He paused. “And quite… large, as you’ve seen for yourself.”
Had he meant that suggestively?
Does it matter?
According to her libido? No. Because her mind ran with it, pulling together bits and pieces of what she knew about him to create a wickedly delicious man-collage. Piece number one: The time she’d smacked him with a shovel, she’d groped the rippled plains of his upper torso and abs. She remembered how they’d made her sweat, how they made her crave more. Piece number two: The outline of his body when he’d emerged from the ocean. An awe-inspiring tower of rippled muscles with incredibly wide shoulders and thick, bulky arms. Yum. Piece number three: She’d touched his trouser snake—minus the trousers—in the car. Without a doubt, his body was the embodiment of raw, hard masculinity.
Oh, boy. The gorgeous picture of the man in her head instantly triggered a reaction that… well, frankly, made her grateful the guy wasn’t a mind reader. Her entire body pulsed with involuntary tingles of raw, sensual need. Sweat began to trickle down the small of her back, and the heat began to build in the most private of places, including inside her bra where her hard, tingly nipples pushed outward.
Christ! She’d never felt more frenzied in her entire life. This was insane. After all, she was talking about a guy—okay, not exactly a guy—who was invisible. But maybe that’s what turned her on. The mystery. The intrigue. She knew just enough about him to allow her mind a long, long leash. Her mind had created a false image based on her fantasies.
Ah! See. I’m sure he’s not nearly as hot as you imagine him to be. All she needed to do was dispel the myth. Yes, that would snub out the smoldering flames immediately. Well, that and perhaps a really, really cold shower.
She pulled a glass from the cupboard and filled it full of iced tea from her fridge. “Want some?” she offered Máax.
“No, thank you. I eat and drink only for pleasure.” He said that last word with a deliberately slow, deep voice.
P-p-pleasure? She gulped down the entire glass, hoping the frosty liquid might extinguish the scalding hot flame he’d just ignited deep inside her now-fluttering core.
Nope. She set the glass on the counter and turned. “Máax?”
“Yes?” His voice came from directly in front of her, making her jump.
“We’re going to have to put a bell on you.” She placed her palm over her heart. Then she felt his sweet, hot breath on her face again.
“Why would I do that?” he asked in that low, seductively masculine voice. “Then I couldn’t spy on you.”
He’d been spying on her? The thought of him watching her was strangely erotic. “E-e-exactly how much spying have you done?” she whispered.
His breath moved to her ear, and the heat from his body penetrated her clothes. He was close. So close.
“As much spying as you’ve done on me, my little human. Eye for an eye. Peek for a peek,” he whispered back.
Gasp! He’d seen her naked?
Her immediate reaction was to become angry, but she found that emotion quickly overridden by that escalating case of raging lust, building deep inside. The urge to throw him against the wall, wrap her legs around his waist, and kiss him with whorish abandon was unbearable. She couldn’t help it. She wanted to lose herself in him. She wanted to know what it would be like to give herself to a god, a male so exorbitantly powerful and stratospherically masculine that he might just very well fulfill those fantasies and erotic dreams she’d had repeatedly.
His whiskered jaw brushed against her cheek. “Mmmm… You smell delicious,” he said. “I can’t seem to get enough.”
Uh-oh. Resist! Resist, Ashli. Must… resist… sexy deity… in kitchen. Why did the voice in her head suddenly sound like Captain Kirk battling the Gorn? Quick. Ask… him… something. Maybe he has bad teeth or a really heinous face like the Gorn.
“Máax? What—what do you—um—look like?”
He chuckled softly in her ear. “Why do you ask?”
“N-n-no r-reason,” she lied.
“Ohhh,” he said in that lascivious, deep voice, “I think you have a reason.” She felt his soft, warm lips brush across her mouth, triggering a ripple of shivers.
Ohmygod. Was he going to kiss her? She never felt like this before. His smell, his voice—sighhh—her man-collage.
“Would you like to touch me?” he whispered. Before she had a chance to reply, he grabbed her hand, giving her a sinful jolt.
“You’re not going to make me touch your Slinky again, are you?”
He chuckled softly in her ear. “I assume you mean my penis. But no, not unless you want to. Now, close your eyes.” He pulled her hand to his cheek.
A short breath whooshed from her mouth. Touching him electrified her entire sex-starved body. She was beginning to think he might be a narcotic of some sort.
“What do you feel?” he asked.
Roughness. Delicious roughness. His angular jaw was covered with a thick growth of whiskers, and her mind instantly formed another piece for her man-collage. Then he moved her hand over his brow and down his nose. Their strong definition made her think of the classic features of a
Roman statue. Then he moved her fingertips to his lips. They were soft and full, the bottom lip just slightly plumper than the top. Another piece of the mosaic.
He was beautiful. Perfect, in fact.
She sighed and dropped her hand.
“Is something the matter?” he asked.
“No.”
“Then why do you look upset?”
Dammit. Because I want you. I really want you. She looked down at her feet.
“Ah. I see,” he said. “I scent the pheromones dissipating from your skin. But you need not feel ashamed of your desire for me.”
“What?” She knew she was blushing. Fire-hydrant red. “I’m not… desiring you,” she spat out.
“Yes, yes, you are. The sound of your accelerated pulse and tiny beads of sweat are other telltale signs.”
Oh, God.
She felt two warm hands, strong and large, grip her shoulders. Shivers snaked their way through her heated body. “I assure you,” he whispered in her ear, “if you could see me now, you would witness my reaction to you.”
Reaction. Reaction. He meant he was aroused.
She couldn’t help it, but his words only elevated the biting need pounding away in her body, begging, pleading, screaming for her to do something crazy.
He brushed her hair to one side and placed a soft kiss on her collarbone. She closed her eyes and sucked in a sharp breath. “Why did you do that?” she asked.
“Because I wanted to. And I knew you would like it.”
She couldn’t lie, so instead she squeezed her eyes shut. This entire thing was that insanity apple on a stick. Goddammit! She wanted him. She wanted him so badly it almost hurt. And it was pointless. She was going to die, already had twice, three times if she counted that he’d come to save her from dying from something in the first place.
Panic set in, mimicking the sensation of being trapped in a car, sinking to the bottom of a lake. Months of therapy, dealing with what had happened with her parents, accepting that she had escaped death, flew right out the window. Christ, and she’d worked so hard! She’d learned to accept that death was part of life. That was the keystone to her sanity. Acceptance. With it, she’d learn to be grateful for each day she was given. When her time came, she wouldn’t feel afraid or a sense of loss for anything. Nope. She’d be ready to go.
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