Colel

by Pamfiloff, Mimi Jean

  Kinich added, “Why don’t you give Zac a call? He’s still in mourning over Tula, but that doesn’t change his penance. He has to help you secure a mate.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “Sorry I couldn’t be of more assistance, sister. Let me know if you need anything else.”

  She ended the call and groaned, scrubbing her hands over her face. Seeking help from her brethren had left her empty-handed.

  Maybe I should call Zac. With Cimil gone, he was the next best thing when it came to matchmaking, but who knew if he was in good enough shape to help anyone? Tula’s death had hit him hard, as to be expected.

  Poor guy.

  On the other hand, perhaps he would benefit from the distraction. She couldn’t imagine the pain he was in, but in a sad way, it was a good thing. Zac finally cared about someone other than himself.

  I just wish it hadn’t taken losing Tula to make it happen. That girl was special. The purest soul ever to walk the earth.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Zac, God of Temptation and the saddest motherfucker on the planet, sat in his LA penthouse, squinting his turquoise eyes toward the wall. Dammit. Let me see her. Let me see her. He’d been trying for weeks, off and on, to no avail.

  “I know you’re here, Minky. I can sense you, so let’s cut the crap. Tell me what’s going on, and I’ll consider not removing your unihorn and shoving it up your demonic, devious ass once I finally catch you.”

  Silence.

  Gods damn her, he growled on the inside. Minky was definitely up to something. She had showed up—or whatever invisible unicorns did—to the gods’ summit meeting several weeks ago, right in the middle of his rage-fueled meltdown. Tula was dead, her lifeless body cradled in his arms when he’d entered the room to tell everyone what Cimil had done. It was her fault. All of it.

  The games Cimil plays with people’s lives simply to watch them suffer. He shook his head. Cimil got off on it. Then she would come to their rescue, save the day, and clap wildly, reveling in her awesomeness.

  Bat-shit crazy shrew…

  This time, Cimil had gone too far, telling him and Tula lie after lie about their destinies: they weren’t mates, and if they gave in to their mutual attraction, Tula would die. Liar! Liar!

  Tula died because he hadn’t given in.

  Tula died because Cimil took Tula and hid her on an island full of those disgusting…fish boys.

  Tula died because he had to sneak her away in the middle of the night. And because I could not keep her warm enough…

  His heart sank, recalling the misery of his precious, sweet mate freezing to death while they drifted at sea. The conditions had proven too harsh for a mortal, and for the rest of his existence, he would hate himself for the part he’d played. Why had he taken her out in open waters in the middle of winter? What the fuck was I thinking?

  When all was said and done, however, he blamed Cimil the most. Had she simply left him and Tula alone and allowed nature to take its course, Tula would be alive. They would be happily mated. Now, he would have to face eternity alone with only his memories of her to keep him warm at night.

  Oh…those granny panties. How I shall miss them. Tula loved her giant underwear, as she did floor-length skirts and blouses that reached her neckline. So prim and proper. A complete turn-on for a god whose existence was dedicated to tempting humans. Good or bad, his job was to entice others to follow their desires. For him personally, there had been no greater temptation than a woman who couldn’t be swayed by his powers. Tula wanted, she wanted with her entire soul. If she acted, she acted with her heart. If she believed something was right or good, her faith was immovable.

  And she believed in me. That he could change, that his heart was capable of love and kindness.

  Zac flopped back onto the red satin sheets covering his waterbed, his body bobbing with the little waves. So many times he’d imagined sleeping with Tula. He’d bought this very bed in anticipation of deflowering her, after having read in some magazine that waterbeds were more relaxing for females. My dreams are shattered. Plus, he really hated this bed. So squishy.

  “Minky, I need her back.” He sighed. “I cannot exist without Tula. I do not wish to return to being the man I once was.” Yes. A complete badass. As he was now. But he’d also been a shallow, uncaring prick. He’d lived only for himself, in pursuit of his own pleasure. Tula had made him realize that there was no greater joy in life than loving a woman.

  And now she’s gone…

  “Please, Minky, you were there at the summit. You took Tula’s body from me. There must’ve been a reason.” Right in the middle of his rant during that meeting, Minky had gobbled Tula up. He’d never witnessed anything like it. Given that the creature had abilities beyond anything of this world—I mean, unicorn. Hello—he prayed there was a method to the Minky madness.

  Of course, there was one other detail he’d yet to confront, something that had happened after the summit: He was on the mermen’s ship, ensuring justice was carried out on Cimil. Just as they’d dumped her overboard inside an oil drum, Zac had sensed five additional souls inside the container.

  Up until the last minute, Cimil had been pleading for mercy, telling everyone she was pregnant, but no one believed her. Realizing that she hadn’t been lying, Zac tried to convince the king of the fish sticks—Roen—to retrieve Cimil, but they sedated him and locked him in his cabin. While Zac lay there on his bunk, his heart shattered into a million pieces over the loss of his mate and the possibility that his unborn nieces and nephews were trapped at the bottom of the ocean with Cimil, Zac noticed something hovering over him.

  Minky. Only, it wasn’t exactly her. This thing had Tula’s eyes. Big blue eyes.

  I can’t be certain though. He’d been given some serious drugs.

  In any case, since his return, he’d been trying to convince his brethren to take action and retrieve Cimil. “Put her back in that drum once her children are born, for all I care, but they do not deserve to be punished.”

  “Just another of Cimil’s tricks,” they all said. Even Cimil’s heartbroken mate, Roberto, king of the vampires, refused to listen.

  “She is incapable of telling the truth,” Roberto had said when Zac showed up on his doorstep, pleading. “It’s what I love about her—the mystery and intrigue—however, not even I can forgive her for faking her pregnancy.” Roberto seemed devastated, as if his heart had died with Cimil’s lie. They had four children already—the most evil little things on the planet—but Roberto had been looking forward to adding more.

  “You Chicken Littled yourself on this one, Cimil,” Zac muttered to himself, running his strong hands through his awesome mane of dark shiny hair. You can only mindfuck your friends and family so many times.

  Now Zac didn’t know what to do. The mermen weren’t taking his calls. The gods didn’t want to hear about Cimil, and he was too heartbroken over Tula to fight any longer. He needed to mourn.

  Tula is gone. She’s…gone. Whatever he’d seen on the ship had been a figment of his broken, drugged-out mind.

  Zac’s phone buzzed in the back pocket of his leather pants. He slid it out, noting the caller. Colel.

  “What’s up, Buzzy Britches?” he said, his tone morose.

  “Normally, I’d say something back like, hi yourself, God of Dumbasses. But your lack of sparkle tells me you are not in a good place.”

  You should be a psychic. “What do you want?” He sighed with misery.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to talk first? I am a very good listener. Okay, I’m probably a subpar listener because, obviously, there are noise issues in my life. Especially when Chuck gets in a mood and tries to camp out inside my eardrum. But I’m all clean ears at the moment.”

  “Pass.” He was a god. A manly god at that. Talking did not make him feel better. Only action does.

  “All right. But if you change your mind?”

  Never gonna happen. “Nope.”

  “Okay,” Colel chirped.
“I have a tiny problem, and I’m hoping you might help?”

  “At the moment, not sure I could help a fly find its way to a pile of shit.” And the world was full of it.

  “All right. A little gross. But this is something right up your alley.” Colel inhaled slowly. “Ready? I think I found my mate, but he’s allergic to bees.”

  And…my mood may have just improved. Nothing amused him more than when the Universe fucked with people. Other people.

  “Tell me more,” he said flatly.

  “Well, I’m kind of in a pickle because my bees won’t let me near him. You know how protective they get.”

  Getting funnier. “Keep going.”

  “And they threatened to sting him the last time he got near me, so then I promised not to see him again.”

  Hilarious.

  She continued, “Of course, I can’t keep that promise, and now I’m backed into a corner. I am not one hundred percent certain he’s my mate—I mean, there are the customary flutters and such, but he seems to hate me.”

  Jesus. It just keeps getting better. Any more of this and Zac just might break out into a smile. “Did you say he…hates you?”

  “Yeah. I think so.”

  “What did you do?” Please say you ran over him with your car or insulted his manhood—something he can’t easily forgive.

  “I’m not exactly sure, but I believe he thinks I’m some crazy, self-absorbed city-dwelling snob who’s into overpriced art.”

  “So he hates you because he thinks you’re a rich elitist?” It’s absolutely true. She was, after all, a wealthy goddess, so…

  “He owns the house I’m staying in,” she replied, “and it’s pretty posh, so I’d say he’s okay with my financial situation. It’s more like he typecast me—thinks I’m an artist or something. I don’t know.”

  Bummer. Zac felt the happy air escape from his little bubble. Sounded like a boring old case of baggage. Very fixable. “You’ll be pleased to hear that it’s not you. It’s him. He’s damaged goods.”

  “Huh?” Colel replied.

  “Damaged goods. You know, he was burned by some woman, and you remind him of her. If I were a betting man, which I am, cuz I’m into tempting shit like that, then I’d say the girl who broke his heart was an artist.”

  “You really think?”

  “You don’t know the guy, and he hates you for no reason. That means he’s got baggage, and it could be why you’re unsure if he’s your mate—his heart’s all gummed up with emotional scar tissue. The two of you can’t fully bond until it’s healed.”

  “You really think so?” Her voice elevated to optimistic.

  “What other reason could there be?”

  “Wow. I think you could be right, Zac.” She paused for a moment. “You know, I never thought I’d say this, but you’re actually good at love advice.”

  “Comes with the territory, I guess.” He’d practically been running Immortal Matchmakers, Inc., by himself. Cimil, who was supposed to be his partner, only popped in from time to time when she felt things were going too well. She liked life to be in a constant state of chaos. It was where she thrived.

  Colel continued, “The only problem now is trying to spend time with him so I can be sure he’s my mate. My bees aren’t having it.”

  Zac scratched his scruffy chin. That is a problem. A pretty big one. He smiled. “How allergic is he to bees again?”

  “His twin brother died last year from a sting, so I’d say very.”

  His brother died? Poor guy. That wasn’t so funny. As much as Zac hated his brethren sometimes, he couldn’t imagine losing one of them forever. Even in the case of Cimil, he didn’t want her dead. He just wanted her to suffer for eternity.

  “You can always try speaking on the phone,” Zac suggested. “It won’t be the same, but it’s certainly an improvement over him dying…” His voice fell into a dismal tone, reflecting his sudden tailspin of sadness.

  “No, it won’t, but—hey, are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Fantastic,” he said insipidly.

  “You sure? Because I can call you later if—”

  “I’m great,” he snarled.

  “Jeez. Okay. I just want to be sure because…well…I know you’re still figuring things out after your loss, and this next question is a bit—”

  “Ask. Because I’m hanging up in ten seconds.”

  “Okay. Okay. How do I date him, including having sex multiple times, without risking his life? I need to be sure that he and I are, you know, compatible. Otherwise, I can’t commit to him fully.”

  “Smart choice. Have sex first.” Because you never know what the Universe has in store. For example, your mate could be kidnapped by a unicorn and taken to an island filled with savage mermen under the command of the Goddess of the Underworld, and then die before you ever have the chance to feel her creamy soft skin and bare breasts against your manly pectorals.

  Zac sighed with longing. “Unfortunately, your potential man doesn’t qualify to become a demigod; otherwise, I’d suggest that. So your options are to part ways with your hive, forgo a mate altogether, or make him immortal in some other fashion.”

  “What other way do you suggest?”

  “Well…there’s evil Mayan priest, but I actually wouldn’t advise it, so scratch that. They might be all sunshine and flowers for the time being, but any moment, the Universe could switch back, and then you’d be left with one very evil mate.”

  “Tell Colel to make him into a vampire,” said Tula, sitting on the bed beside him, her blonde hair loose around her shoulders.

  “Good idea. Thanks.” Zac nodded his head. “Tula suggests going the vampire route.”

  “Sorry. Did you just say…Tula?” Colel asked.

  Holy fuck. Slowly, Zac turned his head to gaze at the petite woman with big blue eyes, wearing a green sack dress.

  “I, uh…have to go, Colel. Good luck.” Zac ended the call, unable to believe his eyes. “Are you really here, or am I dreaming?”

  Tula smiled and then vanished.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “Vampire. Vampire?” Colel sat at the desk in her master suite, rubbing the back of her neck. They’re so nasty, all blood drinking and obsessed with long nights of mindless fucking.

  On second thought, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad? Ugh. But could I really date one of those creatures of the night?

  Wait. Did Zac say that Tula made the suggestion? She hoped to gods that had been a slip of the tongue. If not, then the poor guy was more messed up than she thought.

  Speaking of messed up, this situation with Rys certainly qualified as a clusterfuck. He hated her. He was allergic to the most important thing in the world to her—her purpose for beeing. And if she wanted to date him, he’d have to become an icky vampire.

  Even if the thought of sinful nights filled with dirty, dark vampire sex made her curious, how could it ever be enough? She loved the light. Warmth. Living men. Vampires…eesh… Cold and cruel and always hungry. Like a shark.

  On the other hand, if she could endure it long enough to determine if he truly was her mate, then he could be turned into a demilord. Half vampire, half demigod.

  Those guys aren’t so bad. Once upon a time, when the gods had threatened to wipe out vampires entirely because they kept snacking on good humans—a giant no-no—the then vampire queen came up with a proposal: an army dedicated to killing bad vampires, enforcing laws, and keeping the peace. They would be stronger than a demigod or a vampire. They would have the best of each species’ traits—unmatched fighting skills, ruthless obedience, and, best of all, they could eat normal food and were only annoyed by sunlight.

  Hmmm… And Rys is a florist, so I doubt he’d be a ruthless killing machine like the original demilords. Another plus.

  The downside was that if their relationship didn’t work out, he’d remain a vampire.

  She tapped her pen on the pad of paper in front of her, mulling it over. She would never force a species makeover
on anyone, but if he voluntarily decided to become a vampire and knew it might be permanent, then what was the harm?

  I’ll have to call him and try to smooth things over first. Then, when the time was right, she’d spring her proposal on him.

  Colel went into her walk-in closet, where the bees where busy playing a round of poker.

  “Don’t mind me,” she said. “Just need to grab something.” She snagged her rental contract from her suitcase and closed the door. Looked like Chuck was up by five boxes of Honey Oh’s, so he wouldn’t be bothering her anytime soon.

  She flipped to the last page of the contract and grabbed the phone number for the RT Real Estate agent. Okay, now I just need to figure out what to say to Rys. Something witty. Something to win him over.

  She looked up at the ceiling. Come on, Universe. Throw this old, seriously horny goddess a bone.

  Nothing.

  “Thanks a lot.” She huffed out a breath. Okay. Take a step back. What’s the real issue? The challenge here was that he couldn’t stand her. She, on the other hand, found him physically attractive, but wanted to spank some manners into him.

  Colel slapped her hands together, rubbing her palms to stoke her courage. I can do this. I can fucking do this. I am a goddess. I have superpowers. Okay, maybe not super, but certainly extraordinary. When she was done with this man, he would forget this other woman who damaged him.

  I’m going to make him my bitch.

  She winced. Not loving the sound of that.

  She slapped her hands together again. Do over! “I’m going to make him my vampire boyfriend. Respectfully. And I will not vomit when he kisses me with his blood-breath.”

  She slapped her heated hands over her mouth, holding back a gag. “Oh gods.”

  This was never going to work.

  Rys woke from his nap after a long night of clearing roads, which had ended in him rescuing that woman, Colel, and then being suddenly possessed by stupidity and feeling the ridiculous urge to see her again after their confrontation at the café.