Read Accidentally in Love With a God (2012) Online
Authors: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff
Tags: #Paranormal/Romance
I turned to find Tommaso leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, smiling at me.
“Hi,” I said and kept walking.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked.
“Did you enjoy your
stuff
today?”
“What ‘stuff?’”
I perched one hand on my hip. “It was your ‘stuff,’ why don’t
you
tell me?”
“Oh, I see. Did Mr. Santiago tell you that?”
“Maybe. Or maybe your stand-ins, Robert and Michael, who had time to take me shopping all day did.” I was seriously annoyed he’d ditched me.
“Emma, I don’t know what kind of garbage they’ve fed you, but that’s not what happened.” His face turned red. He looked like he was ready to explode.
“Then?” I asked.
“I spent the day getting a physical and outfitted for my new assignment. Siberia.”
Figured. He was trying to run away. And why shouldn’t he? I was no prize for any man to look after, considering the kind of lifting that would be required. All that baggage I came with was heavy. “Sounds fun. When do you leave?” I said dryly.
“I was supposed to go tonight, but my visa won’t be ready until morning.” He didn’t look happy.
Can’t get away fast enough, huh?
“What’s the rush?” I said.
“Emma, there’s no rush. I was given a choice: leave the Uchben or take this new assignment.”
“Why?”
“I’m pretty sure you can guess.” His eyes flickered across the room toward Guy who was busily chatting with a large, redheaded man wearing a kilt. He sort of looked like the bloody Viking in the painting. Maybe a descendant?
“He’s forcing you?” I asked.
“Apparently.”
Well, as the great band Placebo once said, “Someone call the ambulance.”
“Why? Is something wrong?” Tommaso asked, confused.
“Because, there’s going to be an accident.” I turned and started pushing through the crowd toward Guy who was about to have a deep conversation with my knee.
“Emma, wait!” Tommaso called, but I was determined to bulldoze my way to Guy.
Then a thinly built older man with a grayish beard stepped in my way. “Emma, it’s so nice to meet you!”
“Excuse me, but I have to talk to someone.” I stepped to one side, and he matched my move. I stepped again, and he followed. It looked like we were doing a bad box step.
“I just wanted to introduce myself and ask if we could have coffee tomorrow?”
“Who are you?” I asked, my eyes looking past the man and hatefully zeroing in on Guy.
“I am Xavier. Votan—I mean, Guy—told me about you, so naturally I’m eager to study you while I have the chance. I’m what you’d call the in-house historian and spiritual guidance counselor—a long story—but your help could assist others of your kind acclimate to their situation. If we find any.”
“I’m sorry, what? Acclimate?” I tried to focus on the quirky little man, but all I could think about was punishing Guy.
“Yes,” he said. “I realize my request may seem callus after everything you’ve been through, but I figure a few questions wouldn’t bother someone as strong as you. After all, you’ve been the constant companion of the God of Death and War.”
“Yeah, interesting.” I nodded, while glaring across the room.
“But we’re so pleased you’ve brought him back to us, my dear,” he rattled on. “Things tend to spiral out of control without the gods’ help. For example, have you seen that terrible show, The Real Housewives? That wouldn’t have existed if the gods hadn’t been locked away.” He chuckled.
“Sorry?” my attention bounced back.
“I was making a joke, but—uh—I guess old retired priests aren’t so funny these days.”
“No. I mean—sorry, can you repeat that part about God of Death and War?”
Xavier’s face flushed. He tugged at the collar of his tux. “Oh, heavens. I thought you knew.”
The room melted away. “Tell me. What. Did. You. Say?”
The priest looked at me sideways. “I—uh—really sh-shouldn’t,” he stuttered. “It’s not my place.”
“Did you just say that Votan—Guy—is the God of Death and War?”
He hesitantly replied, “Well, well, yes. I did, but—”
“What does that mean, exactly?” I was going to throw up.
“It means his special talent—what he’s best known for—is…” He cleared his throat. “Death and war, my dear.”
Well, great. Now my life was just perfect. And how stupid of me not to see it before. Anyone who looked at the man knew he was lethal, not to mention tedious and annoying. Of course, he was the God of Death and War.
My world froze, but the little old man, didn’t seem to notice because he just rambled on. “They all have many special talents, you know. Dozens in fact. But they’re usually known best for the ones they excel at or by what the adoring culture values most. For example, Votan—Guy—is also known as Coquenexo, the Lord of Multiplication. And the God of Drums. It’s quite funny when you think about it.” He removed his glasses and rubbed his nose. “And the Norse—well, they called him Odin—they worshiped him for his skills at poetry and killing. Quite odd. Then there were the Germanic who called him Wotan—”
“Excuse me.” My face went cold and blood had pooled in my feet. I turned away from the little man and headed for the door. I needed to get out of there.
All this time, I’d been living with a killer. The Grim Reaper.
Could things get any worse?
***
I paced back and forth in Guy’s quarters, thinking through my options. I could play it calmly and not let on that I was in a hysterical panic, then quickly break our bond and run away.
Okay. That wouldn’t work. Maybe he’d snap my neck before I got to the door or chain me up in some dungeon. Surely this place had one. Or ten. Then there was choice number two. Cry. No. No. That was no good. I could—
The door swung open. Guy entered, smiling like he’d just come back from the best night of his life.
Of course. Having seven hundred people groveling all night, worshiping him for being a ruthless killer…what glorious fun.
Guy’s eyes met mine, and his bright white smile melted away.
“Is it true?” I asked, standing at the farthest end of the room at the foot of the bed.
“Is what true?” He removed his jacket.
“What do you think?”
“Honestly, Emma, I’m not one for games.” He sat down on the couch in the small sitting area with his back to me and started removing his shoes.
“Are you really the God of Death? Is that your special talent? Killing people?”
Guy glanced over his shoulder at me. “And don’t forget War.”
“No. Who could forget that?”
“Oh, come on, Emma. You can’t define me by that silly title. You of all people should know better.”
“How many people have you killed?” Just looking at him now made me imagine battlefields littered with bloody masses while Guy hovered over them in his flaming chariot, laughing. A bit dramatic. I know. But that’s what my imagination came up with.
He stood up and took a few steps toward me. I noticed he’d removed his socks. Even his perfect toes looked powerful and lethal. Could he throw star-darts with them?
“Emma, please don’t look at me that way. It’s not like that.” Was that disappointment I saw in his eyes? Mr. Arrogant Killer was bothered that I didn’t approve of his profession?
“How many?” I said, chewing my thumbnail.
“What difference does it make, woman?”
“It just does. I want to know.”
“If I tell you ten-thousand or a million, you’ll still see it the same way, and it doesn’t address the fact that every time I take a life, it’s the right thing to do. It’s what I must do. Even if I don’t want to.” He slowly unbuttoned his shirt, leaving on just the plain white tee underneath.
I tried not to notice the swell of his biceps, or the rise of his pecks, which created two crescent shaped shadows beneath them. I tried not to notice how the line of his body started at his broad shoulders, tapered down into a tight waist, then flowed out into two powerful thighs. I tried not to notice when he ran his fingers through his thick blue-black waves and how they fell around his wickedly handsome face.
Nope. Wasn’t looking. I was going to cup my hands over my lust and sing, “lalala-can’t-hear-you,” because I knew better now. I simply needed to remind myself of the night before and the unforgettable humiliation of being rejected, not to mention he was death personified.
“How do you know you’re not killing good people?” I argued. “And what about redemption? What about people making mistakes and deserving second chances?”
“That’s a very altruistic perspective, and sweetly naïve, Emma, but the difference between good and evil is easier to determine than you think. Sadly, you would never understand such a thing because you’re just a human. You can’t see into their souls like I can.”
“I’m not just a human. Remember? But I guess you’re right—the numbers don’t really matter, it’s simply what you are that disgusts me.”
“Disgusts you?” His face lit up with resentment, and for once I wasn’t so sure it was a good idea to push his buttons. Oh—wait. Yes, it was. It would be easier to get him to let me go.
“Yes. I can’t be around a killer. I want out, Guy. I want my life back, and you have no right to continue hijacking it under the guise of protecting me. You have no right to make me share your sick little world!”
He crossed the room and stood boldly in front of me, glowering down. “Don’t I? Don’t I have every right if it’s for the greater good?” The air around us radiated with his energy.
“Holding me hostage and keeping the truth from me, is that for the greater good? Or controlling me with fear to feed that gargantuan ego of yours?”
“I’d never do that. I always put my responsibilities first. I’ve always put you first,” he growled.
“Is trying to remove Tommaso from my life for the greater good, too? Is it!? Because I’m pretty damned sure that falls into the category of just plain old jealously.”
“Oh. I see. This is all about him, isn’t it?” he scathed.
“Did you get Tommaso assigned to Siberia?”
“Maybe.” Guy crossed his arms.
“Afraid of a little competition?”
Guy’s eyes narrowed. “I simply didn’t want you to get hurt.”
“You arrogant, bloated—the only one who’s hurt me is you!”
“You know, Emma, I didn’t create you, or the Maaskab. I’m not the bad guy, and this victim-of-Guy crap is getting pretty old.”
“I’m glad you agree because there’s nothing more pathetic than an ancient, blood-thirsty deity who feels the need to control a scared young woman whose only flaw is being born with the wrong bloodline—”
“You’re just bitter because of last night,” he said with a raised voice. “But, you never let me explain—”
“You’re right,” I snapped. “I am bitter. Someone I love very much was taken from me, and I still don’t know why!” Did I mean Grandma, Tommaso, or…Guy who’d rejected me? All three? I was so confused! “Now those psychos want to hurt me and the rest of my family. You—you keep me in the dark about everything, even though you promised me answers. Even after I endured years of being branded a freak, because of you! And now, well, stupid me! I’m bitter because I’d started to believe in you. That you had a heart and even, call me crazy, genuinely cared about me. But now I see it clearly. You don’t care about anyone.”
Guy’s jaw muscles tightened, his bright turquoise eyes undulated with ripples of black. “That’s not true, I’ve given you my oath to look after you—“
“Really?” I screamed. “That’s what you call it? Well, then why am I still sitting here, heartbroken and wondering what happened to my grandmother? Why can’t you tell me what you know? And why are sending away Tommaso, the one person I trust?”
His eye ticked.
That made him mad. Good.
“Sometimes,” he growled, “withholding information is for your own good. Why make you suffer for that which you cannot change?”
“Because I need to know the truth! And if treating me like a child is your version of looking after me, I don’t want your protection.”
“You ungrateful—”
“This ends right now,” I interrupted. “I don’t want you in my life. I don’t want you anywhere near me.”
“You’re just angry, but if you just let me—”
“No. It’s over. I don’t want your protection. Do you hear me? I. Don’t. Need. You.”
The room was so silent that I could hear his blinding fury vibrating through the air. His face was as hard as stone.
Then, I recited, “Kaacha’al lu’um, tumben k’iin,” the words Tommaso taught me and braced for his divine wrath.
Chapter TWENTY-EIGHT
Guy’s first thought was that he wanted to take the woman and finally give her that spanking he’d always dreamed of. She was whiny, hotheaded, and too naïve for her own good. She was also filled with a delightful, fiery, unstoppable life force and would stand up to anyone, even the most powerful being on the planet. Even one whose gift was killing.