Accidentally in Love With a God (2012) (21 page)

Tommaso opened the passenger door to carry Emma.

“Not so fast.” Guy dug his hand into Tommaso's shoulder. “I'll take her. You have work to do.”

Tommaso ground his teeth. “
You
assigned me to take care of her.”

“Yes, when I’m not around. So. Let. Her. Go,” Guy said, closing the gap between their faces.

Tommaso gave Guy a discontented nod and waived over several guards to help unload the gear. Guy grunted contently. He was going to have to talk to Tommaso about minding his place, including his interactions with Emma. On second thought, he'd talk to Tommaso’s chief. Tommaso would receive a new assignment, perhaps taking glacial samples in the Sahara.

Guy quickly took stock of the compound, pleased by how it appeared untouched by the centuries. The compound was a villa built in the 1500’s—just the way Guy liked it. Light gray stone, wide-open courtyards, picturesque sitting gardens, and marble pillars; all the features human homes of this century didn’t boast unless the owners were aristocrats stuck in the past or drug dealers.

He’d selected this location specifically because of the statue in the central garden. It was of himself holding a raised sword.

A
glorious work of art,
he thought proudly. Rome was definitely built for the gods, and now it would be the perfect new home for his precious Payal. Here, the Uchben could protect her.

Chapter TWENTY-FOUR

I passed out cold during the drive from sheer exhaustion. Luckily, I didn’t have any haunting, violent dreams. In fact, I didn’t dream at all. There was so much testosterone in the car that no other male, human or otherwise, would dare come near. It was the deepest sleep I’d had in days.

I rolled over in the enormous bed, surveying the room. Had they hired the decorator from the Venetian in Vegas? It was way over the top. The room was the size of a small airplane hangar, complete with brilliant white marble floors, ornate crown moldings, and a domed ceiling with murals of stoic angels and fluffy white clouds. From where I sat, I could see through an arched doorway into a lavish gold-accented bathroom, which appeared to extend the length of a football field. I’d bet my hot Uchben guard that it had a shower for five, steam room for ten, and jet tub for an equal amount of people.

Off to the corner, there was a cozy sitting area near the front door, and to the side of that, a long formal dining table and an open, modern, gourmet chef’s kitchen complete with stainless steel appliances, several convection ovens, black granite countertops, and giant extractor over the gas-burner cook top.

I looked out the double glass doors to the side of the bed that led to a private walled-in garden. Guy was sitting just outside the doorway, his broad back to me, gazing up at the lavender, early-evening sky. His thick black waves of hair, veined with iridescent blue, cascaded over his shoulders. He truly looked like a mythological creature. Everything about him was larger than life: his size, his power, his arrogance and looks. Even his scent and vibe seemed other-worldly.

Without a doubt, he was a real live god and real god damned pain in the rear, but something about him felt so raw, so magnetic, so…familiar. Maybe because his voice—correction—
he
had played such a powerful role in my life. He was my constant obsession. My personal enigma.

So why had my feeling for him only grown into something infinitely more complex? The mystery of Guy was now solved. Sure, I still had many questions. Why was I able to hear his voice in my head when he was in the cenote, but not now? What did it really mean to be bonded? Why had he said my grandmother was special? What had happened to her?

Well, at least now I knew what he was and why we were connected. I was free from his mental chains.

Really, now. Then, why don’t you want to get away from him? Maybe because you just found out you’re not normal and never will be?
True. Though, somehow I didn’t feel any different. I was still Emma Keane. And it wasn’t like I was a real god or anything. Although they were not what I’d expect gods to be like, they were clearly different from me. They were larger than life. They were powerful and fearless.

I started thinking about how I’d give anything for a day inside Guy’s head. What sorts of mysteries of the universe were in there? Where did he go when he wasn’t in the human world? Was his real living room a star in the sky? What was it like to watch people living, loving, hating, creating, growing old, and dying? Did it make him feel lonely, or was he indifferent?

“Looking for something to throw at me?” he said. He didn’t bother to turn around.

I ran my hands over my hair trying to gauge the state of frizz. “How’d you know?”

“I just do.”

“What else do you know?” I questioned.

“I know the rhythm of your pulse when you’re happy, how you breathe when you’re worried, how you’ve spent every second of your life. I know everything, except...” He paused, still not bothering to turn around.

“Except what? The color of my underwear?”

“Pink.”

He knew that too? “Lucky guess.”

“Not really. My men did your shopping. They talk.”

“Nice,” I said.

“Do you care for him?” he asked, his voice low and stark.

I shifted nervously on the bed. “Who?” I knew who he meant, but I needed a second to process. Sure, Tommaso was painfully attractive. Check that box. Strong and mysterious? Check those, too. But was there really something between us? He’d saved my life. Naturally I was extremely grateful. I even trusted him a little—something I couldn’t say for Guy.

However, while the insanely horrific events of the last week might be status quo for Guy and his “Uchi-pets,” they weren’t for me. It would take months to digest all this and peel away the layers of raw stress. So, I guess the truthful answer was I didn’t know; he simply felt like a lifeline to survival. I cared about him. In any case, I was definitely not going to mention the kiss. Guy would strangle Tommaso, or worse.

“Tommaso,” he answered. “There’s something between you two, isn’t there?”

“Let me think about that. Um—I’ve known him for all of three days. He held me prisoner—yes, on your behalf, but still—”

Guy turned in his chair to face me through the doorway. Gods, he was stunning. “He kissed you, didn’t he?” Guy asked like a possessive boyfriend. “I can still smell him on you.”

I felt a tiny rush of satisfaction from Guy’s jealousy, even though I knew it was an unreasonable response on my part. Besides, it wasn’t like Guy really wanted me. To him, I was just some object he felt belonged to him.

“It was just an impulse. And trust me, after I slapped him, I don’t think he’ll be coming back for more.”

Maybe I should want him; he might be good for me.
“Besides, look at him,” I said. “He’s good looking, dedicated, well groomed—I’m sure I’m not his type.”

Guy smiled. “You’re everyone’s type.”

My heart did a little flutter. Did he mean I was his type, too? “No. Us half-breeds are much too exotic for most men,” I said facetiously. “And since you rotted my brain, my chances for any normal relationship are totally ruined, Votan.”

Guy stood up and in the span of a heartbeat, moved to the side of the bed, his boiling hot glare pouring down on me. “Don’t call me that, Emma,” he growled.

Actually, I had no idea why I’d suddenly used that name. But now…“Why,
Votan
?” I rose to meet his, well, his chest. After all, I was only five three, but he got the drift.

His bright turquoise eyes narrowed. “Because everything’s changed, that’s why.”

I lifted my chin. “You’re right about that. I thought my life sucked before, but now I’m being hunted by crazy Mayan witchdoctors—”

“Priests.”

“Yeah. Whatever. The point is my life’s over, and, for all I know, my entire family’s been wiped out. But you’re worrying about a stupid name.”

“I’m simply not the same being I once was, and the name Votan has memories attached to it. Memories I no longer wish to think about.” There was an unmistakable pain in his eyes. Why?

“And as for your family,” he continued, “they were the first thing I took care of. They’re safe. I made sure of it.” He placed his hand on my shoulder sending a shiver through my spine.

“They are?” I suddenly felt warm and gooey inside. He’d protected what I loved most in this world. In fact, he’d said it was the first thing he’d done. After seventy years of being cursed to live underwater, the gesture meant a lot.

“Your parents,” he added, “though unaware, now have around the clock security, and they’ve hired a new maid—one of our Uchben. We’ve got people at their hospital, too. Even the new neighbors on both sides of them are ours. And they’re very excited that the houses on their street have been selling at double the price, but what can I say? We had to persuade the former occupants to move out in one day.”

Wow. He’d done all that? For me? Stunned to the core, I couldn’t help but ask, “Why?”

His eyes flickered to a translucent, shimmery blue for a fraction of a moment as he stared deeply into my eyes. “How can you ask such a thing? Did you not listen, my sweet, to one word I’ve been saying all these years?” His grip pulsed with tension on my shoulders. He brushed my cheek with one hand as if I were his most cherished possession in the world.

Then it hit me.
Crap.
I felt like I’d been punched in the stomach. He really had been trying to protect me. All those years I’d misjudged him. I was wrong. Me. But how could that be? I was the victim. Wasn’t I?

Christ. No, I wasn’t. He was. He’d been trapped in the water, helpless. And he’d been trapped with…me.

I suddenly saw through all of the things he’d done, that I’d perceived as evil, and realized that I’d behaved like a whiny, spoiled child. Just like he’d always said. I’d been too angry, too focused on the things I didn’t have to hear the truth. Of course, his lack of truthfulness didn’t help. But still. The threats were real. The priests were real. They had taken my grandmother. They had come hunting for me.

Guy really had been watching over me my entire life despite being trapped in a watery hell, unable to breathe or feel sunlight. And to his credit, he never once complained or whimpered about his effed-up situation. He’d simply focused on doing what he could to keep anything dangerous away from me. Even Jake, the serial killer. Yes. Yes. Guy’d driven me crazy in process, but I got it now.

I pulled away from his overpowering touch and began nervously straightening the bed.

“Besides,” he continued. “The Maaskab want you, not your parents.”

“Why not?”

“Your father is normal, and as Señora Rosa told you, the only ones who appear to be Payals and carry our light, or energy, so to speak, are first born female children. We haven’t had a chance to understand why yet, but rest assured, your mother is not a first born child—she has an older brother.”

Yes, Uncle Randy, who lived in Santa Rosa, California. I’d been planning to stay with him while I got settled into my new job.

Guy’s cell phone vibrated. He looked at the screen and shoved it back inside his pocket. “As long as the Maaskab believe your parents can’t be used to find you, they are safe. But that doesn’t mean they won’t always be waiting patiently until you weaken and slip up.”

He continued observing me, eyes intense, while I smoothed the white down comforter with my shaky hands. “Guy, I get what you’re saying, especially after seeing the monsters for myself. But there has to be a way to safely contact my mom and dad.”

“Are you really willing to risk it? Any form of contact could lead them to you again. Hell, I don’t know how they even found you at my villa. There is much about them we do not understand, including the extent of their powers. But we do know the Maaskab won’t stop until they get what they want. Right now, they want you.”

“They’d said that I belonged to them.” I sighed then nodded. “I wish I was never born.”

“Don’t wish that Emma. Your life is a gift. You shouldn’t let fear diminish that,” he said.

“That’s what my grandmother used to say.”

“She was right.” He plowed his hands into his pockets and looked down.

I found myself wishing I could talk to her now. I needed someone to help me sort through this mess, especially these mixed up feelings I had about my life, about Guy.

“I miss her.”

“I know, Emma.”

“Do you really think the Scabs killed her?”
Please say no.

He nodded solemnly. “Yes, and they’ll pay. I promise. But you can’t throw away your life, suffering for those who are no longer with you. You have to move on, my sweet. Leave the revenge to me. It is what I am good at.”

Guy watched as I fluffed the pillows and lined them up against the headboard, trying not to cry. I unexpectedly realized how comforted I felt talking to him. It reminded me of when we used to be alone, chatting away while I cleaned my room or folded clothes. Sometimes, we’d talk for hours about life, history, and politics. There were good memories, solidly happy times tucked in between the angry ones; I just hadn’t wanted to recall them until now. Oddly, I missed having him inside my mind so close, rubbing intimately against my thoughts. It was so ironic.