Sun God Seeks…Surrogate?

by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

  “Oh God. Yes. Yes,” I panted.

  His hot tongue and velvety, plump lips moved down my neck, their sensuous texture deliciously followed by the roughness of his unshaven jaw.

  Kinich pulled up my T-shirt and palmed my breast before he placed his mouth over my sensitive nipple and began sucking. Gentle at first, then hard.

  “I love your breasts,” he said with a breath, talking directly to my puckered, and now red, pebble. “I want to do very dirty things to them.”

  Oh. Sun God is a breast man!

  “But, not before I do this.” He flipped me over like a hotcake on a griddle and straddled me below my backside. I felt his large hands cupping both fleshy mounds. “These, I have missed. Your ass should have a pyramid built in its honor.”

  Could he arrange that?

  “Shouldn’t I get two? One for each side?”

  He tugged down my jeans, leaving my thong panties in place.

  “Yes. They are gorgeous,” he said with a gravelly voice, and began lavishing a long, hot, wet kiss on my right cheek.

  His sizzling tongue felt so silky, like warm chocolate being drizzled over my skin.

  He suddenly flipped me once again, startling my breath away.

  Like a man on a mission, he made no production out of removing my panties or tearing off his own T-shirt and drawstring pants.

  He crawled up the bed and lay over me, briskly separating my legs. “I want you, Penelope. I want to be inside you and hear you moan my name like I’ve dreamt about.”

  I loved that he’d had those dreams, too. I loved that I was the only woman he’d “perhaps” ever been with.

  I responded to him with a hard kiss and felt him slide his hand between us, positioning his thick shaft at my entrance.

  He wrapped my leg around him and began pushing into me.

  “Wait! The necklace. Don’t I need the…?” A searing heat pulsed through me.

  I exhaled sharply and looked up to discover Emma swatting me with a towel. “Christ, Penelope! You’re on fire!”

  I sprang from the bed, peeled my smoldering shirt from my body, and whipped it to the tile floor. I stomped out the flame.

  “Wow,” Emma said. “That must’ve been one smokin’ dream you were having.” She laughed.

  Dream?

  My mind spun in dizzying circles. I swiveled my head toward Kinich, only to find him lying there like a lifeless sack of dirt.

  Shit. Another goddamn dream.

  My heart sank and tears of disappointment welled in my eyes. I was never a crier, but I’d let ’em rip more times in two days than I had in my entire life.

  “Oh no! Penelope. Don’t cry.” Emma’s bright green eyes filled with worry. She leaned over and grabbed my hand, pulling me up from the bed.

  “I know what you need.”

  “A cold shower?” I asked.

  “Better.”

  CHAPTER 23

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  Emma led me by the hand down the hallway through the living room. Her springy red curls bounced as she trotted eagerly to our destination. Although she was several inches shorter than me, and wearing a girly floral blouse and capri jeans, I felt somewhat intimidated. Her petite size felt like an illusion that masked something dangerous and powerful.

  “So. Kinich told me you’re a…Payal?” I asked hesitantly.

  Emma smirked and flashed a smile over her shoulder, but didn’t answer. She led me through the enormous modern kitchen out to the garage, a garage unlike any I’d ever seen. It was a madman’s luxury car showroom, complete with bar—how many bars does one home need?—living room, polished cement floors, recessed lighting that lovingly bathed each vehicle—six NASCAR-worthy convertibles, one silver hardtop, and a rather large-looking red Jeep with extra-large tires—and a variety of pristine cupboards and racks to house tools.

  Emma released my hand. “Hmmm. Eenie meenie…That one!” She pointed to the silver hardtop.

  “Where are you proposing to take me?” I didn’t want to leave Kinich.

  “For a drive.”

  No derrrr. “I should go back to Kin—”

  “Come on. One quick drive. The night air will clear your head.”

  She was right; I needed to get out of the house, but…“Is it safe? I mean, those Maaskab pop out of nowhere.”

  She laughed. “Safety is an illusion. There’s nowhere on this entire planet that a Scab can’t get to you. But being with me is about as safe as it gets. I now hold the kill record.” She flicked her hand. “It’s all in the wrist.”

  She plucked a key from a hook on the wall, marched over to the car, and slid in. “Aston Martin One-77. I’ve been dying to drive this baby ever since he got it.”

  The sleek modern lines said one thing…“Expensive,” I mumbled.

  Emma grinned from ear to ear as I slid into the black leather passenger seat.

  She slowly ran her hands over the top of the steering wheel. “Oooh, you have no idea. Kinich would never let me drive this car, but since he’s in a coma…”

  These were quite possibly some of the most insensitive people—beings—I’d ever met. Either that, or they were all too crazy to be worried about anything.

  “If you’ve ever heard the phrase ‘boys and their toys,’ the gods put a whole new spin on it.” She revved the engine and pushed the garage door opener. “Let’s roll!” The screeching tires left behind two plumes of smoke.

  I instantly gripped the sides of my seat. Clearly, Emma was a little wild. “Where are we going on this ‘drive’?” I asked over the rev of the accelerating engines.

  “Woo hoo!” Emma screamed. “This baby can fly!” The car didn’t fly, it rocketed down the dark, dirt road that eerily seemed to have no end, but could, at any moment, turn into a nocturnal version of the cliff-diving scene from Thelma and Louise.

  “Emma, you really should slow—”

  I unexpectedly heard the unmistakable chime of…the Woody Woodpecker Show?

  “Hold the wheel, Pen.” Emma began digging in her pocket.

  Sweet-and-sour demons! I leaned hard and gripped the wheel with my left hand. “Could you slow—”

  “Hey, baby. One sec.” She turned to me and whispered, “It’s Guy. He’s so pissed.” She giggled and turned her attention back to the phone.

  “Emma, could you, please slo—”

  “No,” she said to Guy, “I didn’t tell you because we’re just hopping over to Camp Uchi.”

  We are?

  “We’ll be fine,” she continued. “There are plenty of swarthy warriors who’ve been trained by the most fearless, sexy god known to creation.”

  She must’ve meant him. I guessed the gods responded to buttering up, like any guy.

  “Well,” she continued, “if I see a giant Scab, then I’ll crack his crusty ass in half.” Pause. “Nope. I will not ‘return this instant.’ And haven’t you learned by now that threatening to spank me only gets me hot?” Pause. “So does that.” Pause. “And definitely that.” Pause. “Nooo. I’ll come back when I’m good and ready. Love you. Bye.” She disconnected the call and shook her head. “Gods. They think they’re so high and mighty.”

  Um. Okay.

  She took the wheel but kept the metal to the pedal. The car soared over the bumpy desert road.

  “Could you please slow down before we hit something? And what’s Camp Uchi?” I asked.

  “It’s where the Uchben on this side of the globe train and live. There’s another in Italy.”

  I remembered Kinich speaking about it—the place sounded enormous. “Do the Uchben have a lot of soldiers?”

  “About five thousand are visiting this week, but they’re over a million strong—if you include everyone: soldiers, regulars, and spies. They’ve also got a killer medical plan, own a few oil-producing countries—the nice ones—and have about ten kick-ass universities, too. You can study anything you want for free. I’m studying to be a doctor—ob-gyn.”

  “Really?” C
ouldn’t imagine Speed Racer delivering a baby. Then again, might be kind of nice to have someone like Emma; she’d make sure the whole delivery experience was like going to the drive-thru window. No twenty-hour labor if you were her patient.

  “Oh yeah,” she replied, “Guy and I were trying to have a baby for a few months, and when nothing happened, I thought something was wrong with me. I mean, look at him; he’s the kind of male that can knock up a woman just by looking at her—of course, I’d kill him if he ever looked at another woman—but you get the picture.”

  “Sure.” I felt the same darn way about Kinich, and he wasn’t even mine.

  “So,” she said, “I saw my Uchben doctor and learned none of them had experience with fertility. And, since I’m…special and can’t go to a regular doctor, I realized someone had to step up to fill the role. Who better than me? Both my parents are doctors, and I love kids. If for some reason I never get to have my own, maybe I can end up helping others. Especially my sister Payals.” Her eyes flashed my way. “Like you.”

  I didn’t want her to feel insulted, because there was nothing wrong with the way she was, but that didn’t mean I wanted to belong to the Descendants of A-hole Chaam Club. “How do you know I’m like…you?”

  She made a little shrugged. “I just do. But you don’t have to take my word.”

  “Is that why we’re going to Camp Uchi?”

  “Ah!” Her index finger shot up. “Now that is an excellent question. But you’ll need to remain in suspense for another ten minutes.”

  ***

  Although it was a moonless night, I could see that Camp Uchi was no military base. It was an enormous five-star desert retreat. Tuscan-style fountains with colorful lights, elaborate cactus gardens with exotic flowers, and Southwestern-style adobe casitas were scattered around the grounds. Tiki torches lit the way to large clearings with inviting fires that glowed under the star-covered Arizona night sky. “This isn’t what I imagined.”

  “Nothing about their world ever is,” Emma spouted while I trailed behind her. It appeared we were heading toward a large domed structure. “Tomorrow I’ll show you the underground mall. They have Manolo and Jimmy Choo—friends of the family.”

  She then stopped and eyed my clunky boots, which were all I’d brought. “And a few stores for the wildly unfeminine—if that’s your thing, which I’m hoping it’s not. ’Cause I could use a really good shopping buddy and Army Surplus isn’t really my style. Have you ever had a fashion makeover, Penelope? I’m really great with hair and makeup. Don’t get me wrong. The natural look is so…natural, but I could do wonders with that face of yours. You have great bone structure. And I bet you’re hiding a rockin’ body under those jeans and T-shirt.”

  “I—I…well, I…” She really wanted to talk about dressing me up and making me over? I didn’t know if I wanted to laugh or poke her in the eye. “Not to be rude, but could we…” I glanced at the door.

  “Right. Okay. No thinking about Kinich or your problems. Just keep an open mind. I promise this will change your life.”

  Wow. Exactly want I needed; more life-changing events.

  “Afterward,” she added, “you’ll be in a much better position to deal with”—she waved toward the night sky—“your new world.”

  “I don’t want a new world—my old one was great, and I’d really like to get it back. Why doesn’t anyone seem to get that or give a damn, for that matter?”

  She gave my hand a comforting squeeze. “Of course we give a damn. More than you know. In fact, there are already plans in motion to rescue your mom and Viktor. The finest, most-skilled warriors on the planet are preparing as we speak. Even Guy and I are going on the mission. Absolutely everything will be done to bring her back safely. So please, Penelope, give me ten minutes. After that, I’ll take you back to Kinich.”

  “You really believe I’m like you?”

  “Your power is so strong, we could light up a small city with it.”

  Me? Power? I guess Emma was also smoking grack. Well, clearly she wasn’t going to take me back until she had her grackhead way. “Fine. Ten minutes. But then we’re going back to Kinich. By the way, what did you mean by ‘cracking Scabs’?”

  Emma laughed. “You are so going to love being a Payal, Penelope.”

  CHAPTER 24

  Emma yanked open the double doors of the cavernous, well-lit auditorium filled with several hundred men—large, shirtless, ripped, sweaty men sparring with swords, poles, and other weapons. When all eyes fell on us, the room became silent and the men motionless, except for their meaty, pumping chests.

  Were we crashing their hunky dude party? Whatever was going on, it didn’t appear we were welcome.

  “Emma? What is this?”

  She pulled me into the sea of burly men. “There’s a special training room I want to show you.”

  “Are you sure we’re supposed to be here?” I scanned the silent, shirtless mob of towering soldiers who made way for us.

  Unexpectedly, a colossal man with cropped, dark brown hair emerged from the crowd to block our path. He crossed his thick, bare arms over his immense chest.

  “Brutus. Good to see you,” Emma said. “Now move.”

  He grunted but did not speak.

  “Don’t you start with me, too.” Emma wagged a finger in his face.

  He stepped forward pushing Emma back.

  What an ass! He was a good twelve inches taller and outweighed her by a ton.

  He narrowed his eyes and jimmied her back another notch.

  My blood began to boil. I didn’t know what was going on between these two, but there was no excuse for a man—especially of his size—to strong-arm a girl.

  “What’s the price this time?” she sidled up to him defiantly. “Did Guy promise you that Barbie you’ve had your eye on if you dragged me back to Kinich’s house?”

  Barbie? She had to be joking. This guy looked like he ate baby chipmunks for breakfast.

  The room erupted with laughter and the brawny man’s face turned bright red. Before I could say, “Yowza,” his arms extended and she flew several yards back, landing on an exercise mat.

  What the…My arms shot out, landing a blow in the center of his chest. Fire burst from his pecs, and he flew a good twenty feet. “Touch her again, and the next time it’ll be your balls!” I screamed.

  The room fell into a steady stream of sidebar whispers. The sound of laughter came next.

  I swiveled on my heel.

  Emma rolled onto her back, roaring, gripping her stomach. “Yes! That’s the stuff!”

  The brawny man laughed, too.

  “What the hell is going on?” I parked my hands on my hips.

  Emma flipped onto her stomach and began crawling toward me, still chuckling. “Woo hoo! Payal power!”

  What had just happened? I was about to ask, but I didn’t want to believe what I’d just seen, just done.

  Denial button…activated!

  I took a deep breath and headed for the door. “Take me back to Kinich. Your ten minutes are up.”

  ***

  During the drive back, Emma didn’t attempt to discuss the incident. Maybe the tiny plumes of smoke snaking from my ears or the licks of flames flickering from my fingertips were an obvious sign that I was pissed.

  As soon as she pulled into the garage, I stormed from the car—which, by the way, was scorched on the passenger side where I’d been sitting—and marched through the house. I ignored Guy, Gabrán, and a few other unknown faces who stood in the kitchen.

  But the moment I laid eyes on Kinich in his bed, my anger dissipated into worry. What if he never woke up? What if my mother never came back? What was happening to me?

  I shook my head. This was not a good place to be. I felt helpless and lost. I needed Kinich to get better. I needed his help.

  Really now, Penelope, are you sure about that?

  He thinks your kind is…a mistake!

  “Your” kind? I thought we hit the denial button on tha
t one, Pen.

  Shit! I couldn’t play the denial game. That only worked for mundane crap like when your jeans are too tight: You hit the denial button and, magically, the reason isn’t because you splurged on cookies and drank too much wine with the girls, but because you must’ve dried them on the high setting.

  Fire coming from your fingertips required a much larger denial tool, as did my entire situation.

  Tequila?

  Oh yeah.

  I made a beeline for the bar in Kinich’s room and found my poison. Boy, these gods sure loved to drink.

  I plopped down next to Kinich and pulled out the cork. “Cheers, Sun God!”

  I took a large swig and began eyeing his nightstand drawer. Now, up until then I’d resisted taking a peek because it felt pretty low to snoop on a helpless man. But a brand-new world called for brand-new lines of decency.

  I slid it open. “A copy of the Popul Vuh?” Autographed by the other gods. Weird.

  Several Icy Hot patches. Odd.

  And a thick, three-ring binder.

  I flipped it open. Each page had a photo of a child with notes, tiny mementos, or letters written in crayon. Page after page. One little girl, whose name was Jenny, had pink ribbons in her blond hair and a toothy smile. Below it was a drawing of two smiling stick figures. Nick and me was written on the paper. Of course, Kinich was portrayed with a giant sun over his head.

  Then I noticed handwritten notes in the margins.

  “Oh my God. These are children from—”

  “Orphanages.” Emma stood in the doorway. “Kinich loves kids. He spends his extra time with them: coaching Little League, organizing trips to Disneyland, he even started ballet schools in ten cities. All for needy kids. He thinks we don’t know. I guess he’s afraid the other gods will think he’s a softy—maybe they do. But I think it’s sweet.”

  “Why? Why does he do it?”

  She walked to the other side of Kinich’s bed and took a seat on the edge. “I think because he never had a choice. None of the gods did. They got stuck with their lives, and maybe to the everyday person, it sounds like the coolest gig ever, but immortality and being responsible for the entire human race isn’t an easy cross to bear. I think this is his way of coping. He gives these children hope and a choice.”