Accidentally in Love With a God (2012) (18 page)

The almost naked man—if he could be called a man—materialized like an apparition, occupying the entire space of the doorway.

His hair, made of long black ropes, hung to his waist and was caked with the same black mud that clung to his entire putrid smelling body. Foul vapors rose from his powerful shoulders like steam from a subway manhole in winter. He was wearing nothing but a black animal-hide loincloth, and in each hand he held a machete covered with what looked like…
dried blood?
His eyes were pits of black and crimson, and a dark shadow hugged the air around him as he stood calmly surveying each person in the room.

It looked like he was trying to figure out who he’d kill first.

“Holy
….” Hiccup! Hiccup!

His feral eyes sifted through the wall of guards and zeroed in me. The room melted away as he held me in his rabid, bloodthirsty gaze. “We are here for the Payal,” he said in a gravelly voice.

Payal?

“I might let you have her,” Cimil said cheerfully. “But you’ll have to tell me why you want her. She doesn’t even braid hair.”

The monster’s empty gaze crawled toward Cimil. “There will be no negotiations. The Payal belongs to us. Give her to me, or I will kill you all.”

Cimil chuckled. “Idiot. You can’t kill me. I thought you’d bring a better game than that, Pig Pen.”

The man reached behind his waist and pulled out what looked like a ball of string threaded with tiny black beads. He held it to his mouth and whispered into it.

“Creepy. Just—creepy.” I shuddered.

Then the large glass window shattered to our left, and all hell broke loose. The last thing I remember was the room filling with men who looked like death incarnate and that ball of string being tossed into the air.

Chapter TWENTY-ONE

In a fit of rage and agonizing worry, Guy arrived at the villa, finding his worst fears had come true. None of the guards had been answering their phones for hours, and the gate had been left wide open with no one stationed at the entry post.

His black Hummer screeched up the hill toward the house. “No! No!
No!”
He leaped from the vehicle, engine still running, and bolted inside.

The entire villa looked like it had been tipped upside down, rolled down a mountain, then worked over with a sledge hammer. Every pane of glass shattered. Every door unhinged. Every piece of furniture splintered. And there was a giant gaping hole in the roof above the kitchen.

“Emma!” He scrambled from room to room, searching for any sign of life. There were several dead Uchben lying in the corner draped over a pile of black meat—it was the remains of a Maaskab. “Emma!” he screamed again, as he charged through the great room, up the stairs, leaping over several more decimated Maaskab bodies.

He arrived to her slightly ajar bedroom door, bracing for the worst. His heart sank at the thought of losing her, at having failed to protect her. Not once during his entire existence had he ever felt such a sense of loss for a human. But then again, she wasn’t just any human, she was
his
feisty little Emma—who he now needed to free the other gods.

He pushed open the door and found something he didn’t expect: there, embracing, were Emma and Tommaso. Her face was a picture of contentment; his face was nestled in her soft copper curls. They hadn’t even heard him screaming.

She’s mine!
Blind rage encased him as he stormed over and grabbed the back of Tommaso’s black t-shirt, dragging him off her. “I’ll kill you! I’ll bloody kill you!” he screamed at the disoriented Tommaso.

Emma grabbed Guy’s thick arm, trying to tug Tommaso free from the enormous, seething warrior. “Let go.”

Panting, Guy turned his head toward Emma, not relinquishing the gasping Tommaso who, though a large man himself, looked like a toy soldier in comparison. “He was supposed to protect you, not fuck you!”

“What the hell is your problem?” Emma screamed, pounding her fists into his upper arm. “He nearly died trying to save me from Cimil, and then those monsters showed up. And where the hell were you? You left me here to die! You fucking bastard! I hate you! The one time I needed you, and you weren’t even here!”

He turned his anger toward the woman roaring in his face and tossed Tommaso to the bed. “Why was he touching you like that?” he yelled.

“So what if he did?” Emma shouted. “You don’t own me!”

“Yes, I do! You’re mine. And don’t ever forget it!” The muscles palpitated in his neck.

“Are you delusional? I’m
not
your damned property! And did you happen to notice there’s a pile of dead bodies outside? Or, that we’re the only two people left standing? That’s because he saved me, not fucked me, you stupid, arrogant, control freak.” She poked him with one defiant finger in the chest and glared with her dark green eyes.

Despite his almost seven feet in height and two-hundred-and-seventy pounds of pure muscle, he began to feel small. He felt petty and foolish, too. Dammit. Sometimes, he just plain sucked.

Guy’s harsh expression softened. He pulled Emma to him and pressed his lips to hers. She squirmed under his immobilizing grasp, but he didn’t feel like letting her go. Not quite yet. He desperately needed to kiss her. He’d carried the constant thought of doing so ever since he’d pulled her from the cenote. He’d thought about doing other things to her, too, but now wasn’t the time to attempt that impossible mountain. It was, however, time to savor the taste of her lips, the feel of her body pressed to his. Gods she was delicious. He felt himself beginning to harden for her.

She stopped struggling and her body relaxed, but she still didn’t kiss him back. Was it because of the odd sensation she experienced with his touch? He was more or less managing to suppress the flow of energy pulsing through him.

Curious, he opened his eyes and found Emma preparing to detonate. He quickly released her and then proceeded to adjust his growing bulge.

She briefly fixated on his groin while he did this, and then snapped, “Un-effing-believable. Are you done yet?” she scorned.

Guy flashed a wicked smile and arched one brow. “For now, my little meerkat.”

He turned away from her to find Tommaso’s livid face. Yes. Something was clearly going on between these two. The room was filled with jealous energy—not all his, either.

Guy stared at the man, sizing him up. Tommaso’s commander—or chief as the Uchben called him—had said that Tommaso was one of the smartest, strongest and most loyal guards. But Guy wanted to punch him right in that pretty-boy face of his. “Tommaso. My apologies for accosting you. As long as you keep your hands off my Emma, I promise it won’t happen again.”

Emma huffed and rolled her eyes. “The day I’m yours, is the day you stop being an arrogant, self-centered tyrant. Never gonna happen.”

Guy snickered. “A challenge. I like those.” He turned to Tommaso who was now sitting on the edge of the bed rubbing his red, battered neck. “Tell me what happened here.”

Tommaso began debriefing Guy in detail, explaining how he’d blacked out after Emma clocked Cimil. When he woke up in the closet, he’d heard grunts and screams as the Uchben fought the Maaskab outside. He cracked open the door, finding Emma entangled in a net, falling unconscious. The Maaskab were too distracted to notice as Tommaso dragged her inside.

After several minutes, the house fell silent. When he emerged, there was no sign of Cimil, and the remaining live Uchben were gone, too.

“I unwrapped Emma,” Tommaso explained, “but when she came around, she started screaming at the sight of all the blood. So I took her up here, to the only untouched room in the house.” His tone turned apologetic. “I swear, I was only comforting her, and maybe using her to keep from falling over. Cimil’s touch packs quite a punch.”

“Not really,” Emma said.

“What do you mean?” Guy asked.

“When she came into my room,” Emma elaborated, “she tried to do that thing to me. You know—that feels like being hit with a stun gun. But nothing.”

Guy was fascinated. “It didn’t affect you?”

Emma shook her head no. “Not at first. Cimil looked kind of confused. Anyhow, she did it again later, and it hurt a little, but she didn’t knock me out. In fact, I was able to shake it off completely after a minute.”

Guy stared at her, unable to make any conclusion.

“Guy?” Emma asked. “What am I? Please, you have to tell me.”

“I’ll give you two a minute,” Tommaso stood to leave.

“Tommaso,” Guy said with short tone. “Gather up weapons and supplies; we’re leaving for the compound. The Maaskab will be back soon for their unclaimed prize.” Guy looked at Emma: the prize.

Tommaso nodded and left the room without glancing once at Emma, but she watched him until he was out of view.

Irritated by this, Guy pointed to the couch. “Sit.”

“Thanks, but I’d rather stand.”

Of course she would. She hated being given orders.
Stubborn little thing.
“I meant—please, sit down. I have much to say, my sweet.”

Chapter TWENTY-TWO

I was dumbfounded as I searched in Guy’s stunningly surreal turquoise eyes for an answer. Why had he kissed me? Of all the absurd things. We were surrounded by death, yet he felt
that
was the appropriate response? That, and acting like a dog fighting over a bone? Obviously, I was the bone in this analogy.

In any case, his reaction to the hug was
so
over the top. Tommaso was preventing me from wandering off the edge of sanity. I didn’t know how to deal with the shock of what I’d just seen: flying knives, guns going off, and blood, limbs, and other body parts exploding. All the while, I was tangled in that net, which was draining the energy from my body. I was alert, still able to move, yet I could barely gather the strength to scratch my nose. I just laid there like a wet noodle until Tommaso pulled me into the closet.

The next thing I remembered was Tommaso holding me, acting as psychiatric glue—the extra-strong, anti-meltdown kind—and then Guy showed up armed to the hilt, doing his impression of Conan the Barbarian on steroids. Only, he was dressed in a dark gray commando outfit, complete with black leather boots, military style cargo pants, and a dark gray, tight fitting t-shirt. Could Guy possibly look more menacing at a worse time? It was the exact opposite of what I needed to see…more ferocious, scary men. He even smelled angry, like a smoldering, chocolaty campfire. Okay, maybe that part wasn’t so bad. Who doesn’t love dessert-scented campfires?

Sadly, I should have been infuriated by his misogynist display of insensitivity, but now, now he was staring at me with his docile eyes, his straight, black brows shrugged worriedly together. And what was I thinking of all ludicrous things? After days of fantasizing what I’d say to him or do to his neck—like breaking it—I was thinking about how angry I was because he’d left me alone to face the monsters. I felt relieved to see him again. I needed him. I’d never believed in the Boogieman until today, and lucky me, there wasn’t just one, there were fifty. And bonus! They all shopped at the same Boogieman-Outlet so they could coordinate their scary costumes. Just thinking about those dreads or crusty muddy bodies dressed in loincloths…yack!

But being with Guy somehow made it all better. Like being home. “Well? Tell me?” I prodded.

“I—uh.” He turned away and scratched the black stubble on his jaw.

“Oh, for crying out loud.” I sat on the edge of the leather couch and waited as Guy paced the length of the room.

“I supposed I owe you an explanation—”

“Or two,” I added.

He frowned. “But we don’t have much time.”

“Exactly, so spit it out.”

“Right. You remember the story I used to tell you about the evil king who stole the young maidens, and then they were rescued by a handsome prince?”

I nodded, fearing where this conversation was heading.

“Well,” he continued, “that’s not this story.”

“Shocker.”

He pulled the thick black braid from the back of his head and began nervously twiddling the end. “This one doesn’t have a happy ending for everyone, and the good guys might not win. And the young maidens, well, most of them die.”

Was he really doing this to me? Trying to explain this lethal situation in the context of a fairytale? “Enough! Just tell me!” I exploded. “What the ever-loving-hell is going on? Who the hell are you? And where the hell were you?”

He continued pacing, shaking his head from side to side. “Hell, woman, that’s a lot of hells.”

I stood up and blocked him from pacing, planting my palms flat on his chest. I quickly snapped them away. Touching him felt like shoving a fork into an electrical socket.

“Yes,” I answered with a forced calm. “And you can go there if you don’t start giving me answers.”