Vampires Need Not...Apply ay-4

by Jean Mimi Pamfiloff

  Don’t you do it. Don’t you dare crack a stupid joke! “What? Feels like what?” Good job.

  “Would you stop talking? I’m trying to…” He looked down at his laptop.

  Stop? Did she come equipped with that setting?

  She looked at the man slouched over his notebook in front of her. Oh, gods… you’ve only made things worse! The heaviness in his shoulders tugged at her heartstrings. If only she could do something to ease his pain, but she was so bad at this. She didn’t know how to connect with him—or anyone, really.

  Ixtab moved behind him and pressed her body and cheek against his bare back. “I am sorry,” she said quietly, placing her hands around his waist over the apron.

  Antonio sucked in a sharp breath and jerked his spine straight. “Why do you keep touching me?” he said in a low, deep voice.

  She sighed. “I don’t know.” Then she inhaled his scent, fully expecting him to pull away, but he didn’t.

  Several moments ticked by, and she noticed that his heaviness began to lift, replaced with a heat that sieved through his skin and into her body. She felt their lights spark and tingle as they began to mingle. Her own heart began to thump in time with his.

  Gods, what was happening to her? She instantly knew she would never get enough of this, of him. She was addicted.

  She removed her hands from his tight waist, and then ran them up the bare skin of his sides, savoring the slope of his broad back.

  She felt Antonio’s chest expanding and contracting at an accelerated pace, but he remained still as her hands moved under his apron, exploring the velvety, hard ripples of his abdomen. Gods, he felt so delicious, so perfectly firm and smooth, so masculine. She leaned into him a little harder, enjoying the feel of her breasts and stomach against the heat of his back. Gods, she’d never wanted a male like she wanted him. The way he reacted to her touch, almost like he needed it as much as she did.

  Her hands moved slowly up his washboard abs and glided to his muscular, firm pectorals. They were so sensually male, so hard, though not as hard as the two tiny nipples she found. She explored them with the ends of her fingers, wanting nothing more than to feel them on the tip of her tongue. Would he let her touch him like that? Kiss his perfect chest, lick his insanely muscled stomach? She would have to remove her fortress of black fabric to do so.

  Could she let him see her face, her body? Expose herself to him?

  Yes, yes, she could. She’d let him see everything. She’d do just about anything to feel his entire naked body flush with hers, because if touching him with her hands felt this good, she could only imagine the pleasure of having him on top of her, writhing between her thighs, inside her.

  “Antonio.” She folded her veil and placed a light kiss on his shoulder blade. “I want to show you something,” she whispered. She kissed him again, savoring the tiny shivers she coaxed from his body each time her lips touched his smooth, bronzed skin. Gods, she would enjoy this. She slowly began moving her hands down, down his chest, down his stomach—

  He released a low groan, and he shifted on his chair, widening his legs.

  “Gods, Antonio. What you do to me,” she whispered and then slid her hand to his groin. Her fingertips grazed the moist tip of his erection protruding from his waistband.

  Antonio groaned again and then suddenly spun around, knocking Ixtab square in the jaw with his elbow.

  She heard a loud crack and felt the floor leap up and smack her on the back of the head. Ouch. That hurt.

  * * *

  Antonio stared down at Ixtab, who appeared to be unconscious. Santa mierda!

  “Ixtab! Ixtab!” She was out cold.

  Dammit! He’d have to be more careful with his new strength. He’d already torn two shirts, cracked the sink in half brushing his teeth, busted two doorknobs, and ripped open three pairs of button fly jeans—each time when he’d thought of Ixtab. Not like he had a fuck of a clue as to why he had that reaction toward her. The damned goddess pissed him off and mocked everything he held sacred. She was crass and lacked the fragile femininity he adored in his usual fare of one-night stands. But Christ almighty, if he didn’t find Ixtab’s smell the most addictive scent known to man—err—vampire. And her touch…? Dios, he’d never felt anything so fucking arousing in his entire life.

  “Ixtab. Are you all right? Ixtab?” Shit.

  He hovered his ear above her mouth. At least, he thought it was her mouth. Not that he could see her face.

  Her breath was shallow at best.

  Santa Maria. He grabbed her wrist to check for a pulse. Yes, there was a faint, slightly irregular beat—caray! A soft wave of throbbing tingles wrapped its way up his arm, over his shoulder, and spread through his body.

  Joy. Light. Euphoria. Warmth.

  Unable to pull away, he closed his eyes and allowed the sensation to saturate each corner of his body and mind. She was like a drug. A delicious, sensual drug that he now recalled tasting earlier when she’d touched him during their fight. Only then, he’d mistaken it for vampire adrenaline.

  Now, come to think it, the sensation felt eerily similar to when she’d touched him in the hospital and the other time when he lay there dying.

  This could not be a goddess of evil and death.

  So what was she?

  He slowly lifted her lacy veil, trying not to stare at the two firm breasts cloaked by snug black fabric. He swallowed hard.

  As she lay there completely still, he realized he could make out the full outline of the body she tried so desperately to hide. She was actually quite lovely. A long, lean form with a small waist and curvy hips. And he already knew she was perfect in the breast department.

  Of course, she was a goddess. Why wouldn’t she be perfect?

  Her sister, Fate, had painted her out to be a monster. A killer. And Ixtab had admitted freely that she was.

  So what did the face of this killer truly look like? He slowly lifted the veil. One inch. Then another. A smooth neck with light golden-brown skin revealed itself. No. It wasn’t the pale, corpse-like flesh he’d expected; it was simply beautiful.

  He glanced down at her hands. He’d never noticed them, but they, too, were a soft, creamy mocha brown. As if she spent her days in the Mediterranean, sunbathing. Lovely.

  He lifted a little further, his heart racing with anticipation, with morbid curiosity, with hope.

  A chin. Perfectly rounded to a small point and made of the same silky skin on her neck. Then… Dios mío, lips…

  Words of blatant, ungentlemanly lust stuck in his throat. Two full, sexy lips stared back at him, mesmerizing him with their voluptuous perfection. Did they feel as silky as they looked? He leaned in close and ran his fingers over her lower lip. They felt like rose petals, soft and velvety little pillows. He placed a small kiss on her mouth. Heaven. Kissing such soft lips felt like heaven.

  His mind instantly panned south, imagining how her other soft and tender spots might look and how he might enjoy kissing those, too. His fangs suddenly popped from his mouth and his shaft burst through the buttons of his jeans.

  Christ. Now he finally understood why vampires wore leather pants. He’d have to order a pair or two immediately. In the meantime, his long apron would have to do.

  He lifted a little bit more to see the rest of her face, and then…

  “Ixtab!” She simply dissolved into thin air, leaving nothing behind but a pile of empty black lace and a very sexy set of pink, lacy lingerie.

  Chapter Diecinueve

  “What do you mean, you ‘lost Ixtab’?” Kinich stood in the doorway of his apartment with a white towel wrapped around his waist, smelling of sex and woman. A really hot woman. Literally. The smell of sunshine seeped from his every pore.

  “Lost. As in… Coño, she fucking vanished. Is this one of her powers?”

  Kinich scratched his head and stepped aside to allow Antonio to enter. “How hard did you say you hit her? And what’s with the apron?”

  “I haven’t ordered my leath
er pants yet.”

  “Ah. I’ll give you the name of the local tailor. We get a bulk discount, and he does excellent work—triple stitching in the crotch.”

  “Fantastic.” Antonio sank down on the black leather couch and dragged his hands down his face. “Santa Maria. I hit her so hard she crashed to the floor like a bag of rocks. I’m not used to this new strength.”

  Penelope, with her dark hair appearing as though it had been teased in every possible direction, scrambled from their bedroom wrapped in a pink Hello Kitty bathrobe.

  Antonio raised a quick brow.

  “What?” she squabbled. “I borrowed it from Helena’s closet upstairs.”

  Wasn’t Helena the current ruler of the vampire race? This strange, new world he’d been sucked into was farcical.

  Kinich looked at Penelope with the utmost adoration. “Antonio says he lost Ixtab.”

  Penelope stifled a laugh and then turned sheet white. “The Maaskab aren’t back, are they?”

  “Maaskab? You mean the evil priests we fight?” Antonio asked. Fate and Viktor had spoken to him about the “situation.” And one might presume it was the reason he’d decided to continue on with his work. But no. It was her. The haunting woman from his dreams who appeared the very first night he possessed the tablet. Only now, now that he didn’t really sleep, he heard her voice each time he closed his eyes, pleading to end her agony. And dammit if he didn’t feel drawn to her—like she pulled him with invisible threads attached to his soul. There was simply no denying that he was destined to meet this woman, whoever she might be.

  So what did this… thing with Ixtab mean?

  “No,” Kinich replied. “The Maaskab have not returned. We haven’t seen any aside from Emma’s grandmother since the last battle. Our physicist here says he accidentally hit Ixtab, she passed out, and then she disappeared.”

  Kinich and Penelope exchanged several rounds of awkward glances.

  “What?” Antonio asked.

  “I believe you killed her,” Kinich replied.

  Killed her? “It was only a thrust with my elbow, for Christ’s sake.”

  “Lucky hit, vampire.” Kinich shrugged. “You must have cracked her neck.”

  “Isn’t she immortal?” Antonio argued.

  Kinich snickered. “Oh yes. And when she returns, she’s going to be pissed. And not pissed in a mortal female kind of way where she throws her shoes at your head.” He looked at Penelope.

  “Hey!” She took a swipe at his arm. “I was really mad that day, and you weren’t being a very nice Sun God.”

  Kinich pulled her close and kissed her nose. “No, I wasn’t. And you may throw your shoes at me anytime you like. You look extremely beautiful when you are venting.” He kissed her deeply. “And you are even more beautiful carrying my child. By the way, I cannot wait to find out the sex. If it’s a girl, I would like to call her—”

  Antonio cleared his throat.

  Kinich glanced at Antonio. “Are you still here? Shouldn’t you be looking for a place to hide, vampire?”

  “Do I want to ask why?” Antonio groaned.

  Without pausing from her ogling, Penelope replied, “Aside from being the bringer of self-imposed death, Ixtab is also known as Ninlil, Xochipili, Xilonen, Inguma, though the Basque thought she was a he, and—”

  “You’ve been studying, my little Sun Goddess.” Kinich beamed at Penelope.

  All these—oh, hell, what did Americans call it?—goo-goo eyes were making him sick.

  “Yep. I’m finally on the book of Inuit, Akych,” she said.

  “Very good. Yes. Akych is the name for Sun God.”

  “Would you two stop with the incessant mutual admiration and tell me why I need to hide? It was an accident. I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

  Kinich laughed and released Penelope. “That will not matter. A weaker, lesser being killing a deity in his or her immortal form is akin to giving a public bitch slap.”

  Weaker? Lesser?

  “Like all deities,” Kinich continued, “Ixtab’s Achilles’ heel is her ego. But her anger is by far her biggest flaw. Unfortunately for you—and the rest of us—she is the goddess in charge of happiness, flowers, natural seasoning, sport, winds, grain—”

  “That doesn’t sound so terrible. In fact, those sound very nice.” And explains why she smells so great.

  “And,” Kinich added, “nightmares, strangulation, hangings, and toothaches. Fate was the last person to kill Ixtab by accident. And her return brought with it five days of global windstorms; three months of every game around the planet ending in a tie—the Germans and Latin Americans almost lost their minds; a plague of horrible toothaches and nightmares; a shortage of cardamom and cloves—the people in India and the UK were very unhappy without their curry; and the disappearance of daisies for an entire decade.”

  Antonio scratched his unshaven jaw. “Not that I wish the world to be afflicted with the absence of a Super Bowl winner or subjected to flavorless dishes, but that doesn’t sound so devastating.”

  Devastating was that he’d hurt—estúpido!—killed Ixtab. Killed her while she was doing that thing to him with her body and driving him mad in the most sexual of ways. Accidental or not, it was a terrible feeling. And there was nothing he could do about it.

  Ironic. Ixtab was just telling you this is why she wears a veil.

  And you mocked her, didn’t you, coño?

  Pinche karma.

  “I said,” Kinich clarified, “that’s what happened the last time she died. The time before that, she’s been refereeing an arm-wrestling match between K’ak and Belch at the edge of a volcano. The two had been fighting over a small misunderstanding having to do with a llama.”

  Did he want to know?

  No. He really, really didn’t.

  “And so,” Kinich said, “the gods demanded they settle their dispute according to our laws.”

  Arm wrestling at the edge of a fucking volcano?

  “But Belch stumbled, ran into Ixtab, and she fell in.” Kinich shook his head. “Not one flower bloomed in the Western Hemisphere that year. And without flowers, no food. It was one of the worst famines ever to hit the planet.”

  “I thought the gods couldn’t harm us humans?” Antonio asked.

  “Not on purpose,” Penelope pointed out. “And don’t forget, you’re not human anymore.”

  Dios mío. Antonio dropped his head into his hands. “It was a goddamned accident.”

  “Don’t worry,” Penelope said. “She won’t kill you—yet—because you’re too important to mankind, but she will make you and everyone else suffer.” Penelope cleared her throat. “As Ruler of the House of Gods, I order you to grovel. Immortal-style. Maybe you can defuse the situation.”

  Kinich chuckled. “Immortal-style! You really have been studying.” He kissed her hard. “I love the way you take charge, woman. You’re going to make an excellent mother. And it is so goddamned sexy.”

  “Thank you.” Penelope glowed.

  “What am I missing?” Antonio did not like the sound of this “immortal groveling.”

  “We keep a plane at the airport,” Penelope said. “You should make it to Bacalar in time to meet Ixtab at the cenote.”

  “Why the diablo do I need to go to a cenote? And what the diablo is immortal groveling?” he asked.

  “While most cenotes are merely ancient Mayan pools,” Penelope replied, “some are portals of the gods. They are also where a deity’s light is sent when they lose their mortal shell. From there, a deity can go back to the gods’ realm or decide to regenerate another body. I’m pretty sure Ixtab’s going to opt for the new body to kick your ass. Get packing, and I’ll have the instructions for immortal groveling ready on the plane.”

  “What about the tablet? And my work?” Antonio asked.

  “He’s right,” Kinich said, “we cannot afford to lose time.”

  “He’ll have to bring it with him,” Penelope decided. “We can have the Uchben set up his lab and a secur
ed communication line at Niccolo’s villa on the lake. It’s only a few miles from Ixtab’s favorite cenote.”

  Again, Kinich glowed with male pride. “I am the luckiest male on the planet to have such an intelligent woman so well versed in the ways of our world. Niccolo’s is a perfect place to grovel.”

  “It is also helpful that Ixtab and Antonio will be removed from any large populations—in case she loses her temper,” Penelope added.

  Santa Maria.

  Chapter Veinte

  “Save me, Antonio. You must hurry. Time is almost out.”

  “I’m trying, but I can’t find you.” Antonio scoured the empty, dark room with his hands. “Please, tell me who you are.”

  “You cannot allow distractions to come between us, Antonio, between our destiny,” the woman’s angry voice echoed in his head. “You must stay away from the goddess.”

  “I don’t understand. Why?”

  “I speak the truth.” Two wide eyes the color of a tropical ocean plowed through his mind. “Even the stars and the moon know I speak the truth—”

  Antonio’s lids flew open, and he braced himself on the arms of the airplane seat.

  Diablos! Now his dreams were mad at him, too? And the odd part was that the woman had never said anything about Ixtab before. Why would she be telling him to stay away?

  Perhaps she is jealous. Perhaps she knows the goddess is nothing but trouble. Hell, a person only had to get within a mile of Ixtab to see that. One thing was certain, if he didn’t set the mystery woman free soon, he would go mad. First, whether he liked it or not, he had to deal with a very irate, deadly goddess who happened to wield the power of… natural seasoning?

  He shook his head and glanced at his watch. There was still one hour until touchdown.

  He pulled the folded list from his pocket and stared at it with utter disgust. This immortal groveling had to be a joke.

  Then again, from what little he knew, deities were the epitome of bizarre as were the vampires they mingled with. He felt like he’d been thrust into a modern episode of the Addams Family—Ixtab being Morticia, of course.