Immortal Matchmakers, Inc.

by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

  So, if anything, she knew she could help Andrus do the same. Maybe it was the real reason they’d been brought together. Regardless, something about him felt so irresistible. Especially when he showed that sweet sexy side he tried to hide.

  “Well,” she finally replied, “how do you know you can help me with my problems?”

  “Experience,” he replied, beaming with confidence in those smoldering turquoise-blue eyes.

  “Same here, big man.” And then something came over her. It was one of those kiss first, ask questions later impulses.

  She pushed herself up on her toes, threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him. Ohgods. The heat of his lips had an immediate reaction. Mainly, throbbing between her legs.

  He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her in closer, opening his mouth in reply to her bold intrusion. The kiss suddenly became a teasing dance of their tongues, both of them seeming to take a moment to feel and taste the other.

  Despite her earlier comments, he tasted nothing like whisky. More like honey and fresh mint.

  So delicious.

  She felt her entire body melt into him, heating from head to curling toes. The way his lips kneaded her mouth—not too smooth or rehearsed, but filled with raw lust and unabashed need—the way he held her to his hard body with his powerful arms, the way her nipples hardened and goose bumps erupted on every inch of her body, all felt more raw and sexual than any sex she’d ever had.

  As she clung to his muscular towering body, getting instantly wet for him and relishing the sinful sexual energy flowing between their tightly pressed bodies, his cock grew hard against her stomach.

  Oh, lord. She wanted to touch that giant bulge again, but this time without the leather. She wanted him naked and on top of her, nestled between her warm thighs like that first night they’d met.

  Wait. What am I doing?

  Uh, you’re making out with Andrus in some guy’s driveway.

  Oh shit. She pulled away and the look on his face was pure cockiness—full-blown smirk on his wet lips.

  “Ah, you see,” he said. “You do find me irresistible, but I am a man of my word and promised not to judge you for lying about it earlier.”

  She huffed and turned away. “That was a pity kiss!” she called out, now feeling embarrassed.

  “I’ll see you later. After I’m done saving your life again!” he screamed back, laughing.

  She entered Tommaso’s home and pressed her back against the closed door, letting out a whoosh. That had been one hell of a kiss, but who was she kidding? She could never be happy with a man like that. Not even if she managed to help him. Sure, he might have his attractive qualities—stunning eyes, hypnotic deep voice, raw masculinity, and witty, addictive cockiness—but he definitely wasn’t relationship material. At least not for her. He would never see her as his equal. That he’d made perfectly clear.

  Yeah, but you still need to help him. Yes, they could be friends, and she’d tell him so the moment he returned.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Just before nine in the evening, Andrus pulled up to the third Malibu art gallery on his list. Frankly, it was shocking the number of exhibits he’d found with talking vaginas. In his day, such a scandalous thing was unheard of. If you wanted to converse with a woman’s private parts, you had to get married. Women’s bodies were sacred, meant to be cherished and protected. And a man’s job was to do the cherishing and protecting. Did that mean casual sex was off the table? Hell no. But it did mean if you took a woman to bed, you’d better pleasure her properly, leaving her limp and exhausted and thoroughly worked over from head to toe. Frankly, there was nothing casual about it.

  Hard, hard work and dedication.

  Suddenly, an image of Sadie with her auburn hair spread over a pillow, her naked body laid out beneath him, popped into his head. Then he thought of that kiss. Soft and luscious, the kind of kiss that sparks a man’s soul to life as well as his cock.

  He looked down at his leather pants and adjusted himself once again. Would his dick ever stop being so hard? Not until you do something about it.

  He sighed. It was five days to go until the party. If his second-chance mate truly showed, he’d be giving her one hell of a night.

  The thought of Sadie’s kiss hit him again.

  Oh, hell. What if she’s really beginning to like me? Not likely, but he was a man of honor and would have to tell her the truth. There could be nothing between them. Because if this Charlotte was who Cimil said, he’d want his mate and no one else. Then they’d have a son and that would be that.

  I’ll tell Sadie as soon as I see her. It was just that he really enjoyed the feel of her in his arms. Maybe I will kiss her one more time before I break the news.

  He hopped from his Hummer, which he’d parked in the back lot of the gallery, and entered around the front, hoping to get in before they closed.

  There were no talking vaginas inside, but the smell was the same as what he’d found in Sadie’s apartment, though very, very faint.

  “May I help you, sir?” said a young blonde from behind a desk in the corner.

  “I am looking for Tim.”

  “Oh, he didn’t come in today. Can I help you find something in particular? Right now we are featuring the Orozco collection. He’s a Mexican artist who paints spirit animals.”

  Andrus flashed a quick glance at one of the paintings on the wall of a duck with porcupine quills. “While that is an excellent duckupine, I’m afraid I’m only here to see Tim. Any idea when he’ll be in or where I may find him?”

  She shook her head. “Honestly, no. I called earlier today, but he’s not answering.”

  The SOB probably returned to Sadie’s apartment and sensed me. Demigods didn’t have a particular scent like other species, but they did leave behind a sort of energy. If Tim got wind of him, he might be on the run.

  “But,” she added, “I didn’t try his home phone. Give me a minute.” She dug out a small address book from her purse and dialed. After a few moments she looked up at him and shook her head. “He’s not answering there, either. But if you leave your name and number, I’m sure he’ll arrange a private viewing of anything you’d like to see.”

  “On second thought, I am in the market for a new piece for my living room. Have anything with swords?”

  She held up her finger. “I think Tim still has some paintings from the medieval torture show. I’ll go check.” She got up and disappeared into the back.

  Andrus went for her phone book, found Tim’s home address, and placed the book back inside her bag. Moments later, she emerged carrying a large canvas depicting a knight in armor stabbing a unicorn with fangs.

  “Sorry. This was the only one I could find,” she said. “It’s by a local artist who’s just starting out, so the price is very reasonable.”

  “Oh, that’s perfect. I’ll take it.”

  ~~~

  A few hours later, Andrus pulled up to Tommaso’s house. His hunt for Tim had been a complete bust. The man had not been at home, and not wanting to alarm him, Andrus decided not to break in to search the place. It was a better option to come back later and see if Tim returned. However, just in case the guy had decided to take his show on the road, he gave Cimil and Zac a heads-up to warn the gods and their Uchben. Uchben were the humans who worked for the gods in every capacity imaginable: warriors, accountants, doctors, teachers, bankers, you name it. There wasn’t a country or city on the planet that didn’t have the Uchben embedded into their infrastructure. It was the only way for so few deities to keep the wheels on the humanity bus, so to speak. And in exchange for being the eyes and ears of the gods, the Uchben were compensated with considerable perks: free education, 401(k), dental and medical. Those who were deemed indispensable were gifted with the light of the gods—immortality—such was the case for the leaders of the army.

  In any case, they’d now been alerted that there was an immortal out there attacking innocent humans. A considerable no-no. However, that did no
t eliminate the threat, so he had to come up with some other way to keep her safe until Tim was caught.

  Now almost midnight, Andrus rang Tommaso’s doorbell, but no one answered. “What the holy fuck?”

  Panic set in. What if this creature had found her? He went around to the side window and looked in. He could only view into the dimly lit dining room and part of the kitchen, but nothing seemed disturbed.

  He dialed Tommaso’s cell, who answered after several rings. “Hey, Andrus buddy! There you are.” Loud music and laughter in the background told him they were at a club or a bar.

  “You took her out to party?” Andrus growled. “What the hell is the matter with you?”

  “What? I can’t hear you. But yeah, you should come join us. We’re at the Randy Unicorn! I’ll text you the address.”

  The Randy Unicorn?

  He was about to tell Tommaso to bring Sadie the fuck back, but Tommaso bellowed, “My cell is almost out of juice, man. See you soon!” He hung up.

  A second later, an address popped up. Andrus texted back: Going to skin you alive. Bring her back to your house.

  The message bounced back.

  What kind of idiot takes a woman who’s being hunted by God-only-knows-what out for a night on the town? He was going to kick the crap out of his comrade just as soon as he got Sadie somewhere safe.

  Forty minutes later—godsdamned traffic!—Andrus arrived at the Randy Unicorn. He pulled up to the valet and noted the long line of mortals dressed as unicorns of every imaginable sort—Goth unicorn, Elvis unicorn, werebear unicorn. Nothing like the real thing. Thank gods for that. Real unicorns were terrifying.

  He stood at the red rope, waiting for the bouncer to let him in, but after ten seconds, his patience wore out. He unlatched the rope and headed for the door. The bouncer, a large mortal male wearing a crocheted unicorn beanie that had obviously been forced upon him, held out his hand. “Hey, where do you think you’re going, man?”

  Andrus turned to face him, looked down at the man’s offending hand, and growled.

  The guy snapped his hand back. “Okay, no need to get nasty. But you do need to wear something unicorn. Like a hat or T-shirt or something, man.” He pointed to the little display case right inside, filled with all sorts of unicorn crap, including strap-on light-up horns.

  “Have you ever seen a unicorn?” Andrus snarled.

  The man shook his head stiffly.

  “Well, neither have I, but I hear that if they ever show themselves to you, one look will liquefy your innards and make you bleed from your eye sockets. Then they use that horn to impale you from the rectum and drink your insides, using their horn like a giant fucking straw, while you remain awake for the entire event, screaming in agony.”

  He turned his head to a young woman standing there listening. She wore a “Time to be a Unicorn” T-shirt.

  “You fucking sure about that, honey?” he asked and then pushed past the bouncer inside, where he couldn’t quite believe his eyes.

  Hell is a real place.

  Couldn’t Tommaso have at least chosen a more respectable establishment like a leather daddy bar? (He’d gone to one with Helena once.) At least those gay men had good taste in music and knew how to dress properly. This place is like dying a thousand deaths per second. Fucking neon glow-in-the dark rainbows everywhere—on the chairs, tables, and walls. Even the floors were painted with fluffy clouds and strips of color that illuminated in the dark with the black lights.

  I stand corrected. This is far worse than hell.

  He made his way through the packed dance floor, catching curious looks from the crowd who were dressed as…yeah, you fucking guessed it: unicorns. Finally, he spotted Tommaso at the bar. He wore a dark tailored suit and was speaking to a young woman wearing a sort of rainbow jumpsuit.

  “You have some fucking explaining to do, Tommaso!” Andrus barked over the music.

  Tommaso smiled coolly. “Nice to see you, too. What’s got your leather panties in a tangle? Not digging the unicorn vibe?” He ripped open his blazer to reveal a very lame and girly-looking T-shirt that read: Unicorns Make Me Horny.

  Andrus scowled. “Nice. Real nice. I’ll deal with you later. Where the fuck is Sadie?”

  “She’s dancing right…” He pointed to a spot on the dance floor where Sadie obviously wasn’t dancing. “Fuck. She was right there. I swear it.”

  Andrus was going to kill Tommaso. But first, he had to find Sadie.

  Taller than the humans, minus their horns, Andrus’s eyes went to work, scanning the floor. “I don’t see her.”

  “I’ll check the bathrooms,” Tommaso said. “You see if she went out the back.”

  Andrus charged through the crowd, pushing his way toward a door that likely led to some back office and storage. As soon as the door opened, the smell hit him. It was Tim or whatever the hell its name was.

  “Sadie!” he called, following the scent toward another door. He pushed it open and stumbled out into the back alley. Sadie lay face down on the cement.

  Oh shit. No, no, no. He rushed to her side and carefully flipped her over. Blood and scratches covered her face and arms.

  His heart fell into a tailspin of rage. He placed his ear to her chest. Thank gods, she’s not dead. But clearly this thing had fed on her again. There was a fresh bite mark on her hand.

  “Oh fuck! Is she okay?” Tommaso said from the doorway.

  “No. She’s not okay, asshole.” Andrus scooped Sadie into his arms. “But you’re going to be,” he whispered. “You’re going to be.”

  Sadie’s eyes cracked open. “Andrus?” Her voice was barely audible. “What happened?”

  “Fucking Tim. That’s what happened. But I won’t let him touch you again.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Sadie awoke on a to-die-for-comfortable, king-sized bed. From the soft glow of sunlight through the khaki-gray curtains it was obviously daytime. Where the hell am I? she wondered.

  The last thing she recalled was being at that club with Tommaso and dancing with some shirtless guy in a rainbow afro wig.

  She slowly sat up, gripping the sides of her head. “Owww…” I definitely remember doing tequila shots.

  She stumbled from the bed and found the bathroom, a huge, modern, white-marble spa. Whose home was this? Tommaso’s, she guessed.

  She washed her face and used some mouthwash she found under the sink to rinse away the foul taste of salt and whatever else was left over from a night of Lick-Sip-Sucks (salt, shot, lime wedge).

  She then looked up in the mirror and saw scratches on her face. “Jesus.” There were more on her arms and a bite mark on her hand.

  “Ah, I see our party princess is awake.” Andrus stood in the doorway, wearing a clean white tee and faded jeans that hung low on his hips, accentuating his broad shoulders and lean torso. The smell of freshly washed man filled the bathroom.

  “The showered look works well for you,” she grumbled. He’d even trimmed his black beard down to a sexy scruff.

  “Yes, you inspired me to turn over a more civilized leaf. Although, I still find underwear far too constricting.” He shrugged. “I hear commando is back in style anyways.”

  She made a little laugh that felt like having hot branding irons shoved through her skull. “Owww…” she moaned, stumbling to one side. “I don’t feel so good—it’s because that thing attacked me again, isn’t it?” Or maybe because she’d attacked the bottle? In her defense, yesterday had been one hell of a day.

  Andrus grabbed her gently by the shoulders. “Perhaps we should get some nourishment into you first. Right this way, I’ve prepared breakfast.”

  He walked her through a well-lit living room with raised ceilings and gleaming blond hardwood floors. “Where are we?” she asked. It wasn’t Tommaso’s place.

  “Eat first. Then I’ll explain everything.” He showed her into a large kitchen with a breakfast bar in the center island. The cupboards were made of those little French-style doors with clear glass
that she loved, and all of the appliances looked brand new.

  On the counter was one setting, a glass of orange juice, a bowl of fresh berries and some cereal.

  “Sorry, I don’t actually know how to cook,” he said.

  “No. This is wonderful, thank you.” She climbed into the chair and looked at him. “What happened last night?”

  “I wanted to ask you the same question,” he replied, leaning against the sink, crossing his insanely thick arms over his massively chiseled pecs.

  She popped a blackberry into her mouth and chewed. “I don’t know. Tommaso volunteered to take me to my audition—which went great, by the way; the director totally seemed like he wanted to give me the part—then we went out to celebrate.”

  “I told you not to leave his house,” Andrus said.

  “It was his idea. Besides, he said he’s a retired Ukleen or Ukwad or—”

  “Uchben. They are servants of the gods. He was once a soldier for them. Nevertheless, you must start listening to me. Whatever this thing is, it’s dangerous. Now tell me, what’s the last thing you remember?”

  “I don’t know. I was dancing with this guy and then…” She rubbed her eyes. “I kind of remember my head hurting and then I woke up here.”

  “Did you see Tim?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “But I smelled him there. Are you sure?” he asked.

  “Yeah. I never saw him.”

  “He must’ve snuck up behind you and taken you outside.”

  I feel so violated. This was honestly freaking her the hell out. I think I’m going to be sick.

  “How is he doing this to me?” she asked. “How does he make me forget everything?”

  “Some species—vampires, for example—have the ability to glamour humans and make them forget seeing things. They can also implant suggestions. It’s possible that Tim has this ability and glamoured someone to lure you outside to the alley where I found you.”