Accidentally in Love With a God (2012) (5 page)

“He’s mine!” screamed a woman off in the distance. “I saw him first!”

“Over my dead body!” screamed another. “I’m the oldest. He’s mine!”

Several more female voices chimed in, all speaking an ancient Mayan dialect. The voices turned into a blur of death threats and hisses. Slaps and grunts echoed through the air.

“Stop! All of you,” a deep older male voice commanded.

“My brothers found the stranger,” screamed the first female. “He’s mine!”

“Have you lost your minds?” the male scorned. “He is the stranger who took Itzel. He’s dangerous. Go warn the others to stay away while I take care of this.”

Must get out of here,
thought Votan as the footsteps approached. Females tended to go crazy when in his presence; it was a natural reaction to his otherworldly energy. He moved to sit up, but a sharp pain in his head and a warm hand placed firmly on his bare chest prevented him.

“No. You are not well. Lie still,” the male commanded.

Disoriented and groggy, Votan finally eased open his eyes, taking note of the dull aches blanketing his body. Bright light poured through the cracks of the walls, but it was the rocking motion that prevented his eyes from immediately focusing. He was lying in a hammock, which he unequivocally hated; hammocks were quite possibly the worst sleeping contraption since the pea-shuck filled sacks of the 1400’s.

“Wh-where am I?” Votan stuttered, unable to fully control his mouth.

“You are in my village.” The old man smiled stiffly. “I am Petén.” The muscles of his face moved under his aged skin, causing dark leathery wrinkles to gather around his eyes and mouth.

“How long have I—I been here?” Votan mumbled.

Petén, who only wore a pair of simple white cotton pants, sat down on a wooden stool in the corner and began picking his teeth with a small twig. “Some boys found you a few hours ago. Your head was split open by a rock, your back broken in two. But you’re healing quickly, as would be expected for…someone like you.”

Votan rubbed the back of his head, feeling a mammoth knot and a slimy wetness in his long hair. He then noticed a brightly colored sarong wrapped around his waist. His chest had also been decorated with red and black paint. Votan cocked one brow and looked back at the old man.

Petén shrugged. “The women seem to have gotten carried away when they cleaned your wound.”

Votan craned his neck and moved his eyes over the small dirt-floor hut.

Petén cleared his throat. “We weren’t expecting you, again.”

“I’ve never been here.” At least, this is what he believed, though the fall had clearly disoriented him.
Damned human bodies. So weak!

Petén spoke of another male with a similar appearance and set of turquoise eyes who came through the cenote many years ago. The man demanded several young women, virgins, for sacrifice. When the village refused, the stranger scorned them, warning they’d be punished. The very next day, the entire village fell sick, and the man returned.

“Against my wishes,” Petén explained. “My cousin, Itzel, who was just nineteen at the time, volunteered to go with him. The man took her, and the village was cured.”

The story of the virgins set off alarm bells in Votan’s brain. So did the description of the male.

Votan nodded for Petén to continue.

“She came back several months after, changed. Her mind scarred. We thought, perhaps, you were the man, returning for her.”

“No. I am not that man, nor am I here for the woman.”
But everything just became much more complex.
Only a handful of males had a similar appearance to his, and if any were stealing women, he had a much bigger problem on his hands.

“So then?” Petén asked.

It was clear Petén knew he was not human, but the gods did not discuss their matters openly with anyone except the Uchben. The Uchben meant “ancient” in Mayan, and like their name implied, they’d been around for centuries, acting as the gods’ human eyes, ears, and muscle. They were a secret society of highly educated and fiercely loyal people deployed throughout the world. Right now, Votan was kicking himself for not having alerting them to his trip, but there hadn’t been time.

“I am just passing through.” A sharp pain suddenly racked Votan’s head. He winced and moaned.

Petén scrambled away and returned with a bowl. “Try this medicine.”

The sweetness ignited a blur of strange images: powdered-sugar dusted cookies, miniature chocolate cakes, and a dozen others. He could see himself standing in an enormous white kitchen, wearing an apron, rolling dough on a board, and singing to
Madam Butterfly
that played in the background. A redheaded woman with deep green eyes crept up behind him and slipped her slender, pale arms around his waist, planting a tender kiss on his shoulder blade. Who was she? The woman from Cimil’s vision?

His heart filled with warmth as he emptied the bowl and the pain dissipated. “Delicious, may I have more?” Such an odd sensation was running through him. He wanted to see her again. No. He needed to see her again. The loss of the vision ignited an instant hollowness in his chest.

Petén nodded again. “I will return shortly.”

Votan lay staring at the thatched roof above, feeling the tingling of his body as it repaired itself, the heat of the tropical air soothing his skin. His mind raced. He had the urge to return to Cimil immediately and beg for more information about the female. But he wasn’t going anywhere until he’d dealt with the priests he was after. And now, the situation had just become infinitely more complicated; the man Petén described was, without a doubt, one of Votan’s brothers.

Chapter SIX

Present Day. New York.

The hair on the back of my neck stiffened like quills. I was being watched. Should I run? What if the person followed me? No, I couldn’t leave. I had a plane to catch. A damned important plane.

“Guy? You there? Someone’s watching me.”

Silence.

“Guy? Where the hell are you?”

No answer.
Crap.

A minute earlier, I’d just been enjoying leisurely sips of my icy rum and Coke while people-watching—my all-time favorite sport—from a small wobbly table in the airport bar with a view of the terminal. Something about drinking at five in the morning felt trashy, but the flashing neon beer signs and small army of flip-flop-clad fellow rule breakers, kicking off their vacations, somehow made it acceptable. I swiveled in my chair, searching for the discomforting vibe. My nerve endings were tingling.

There, in the corner, I noticed an enormous man with thick waves of long black hair, emerging from the shadows. Or, at least, I thought he would emerge. Instead, the shadows hugged his body like a heavy cloak as he approached. His eyes, the color of a tropical ocean, suddenly pierced the darkness. Before I could run, we were toe to toe, but he wasn’t there to dance or buy me another drink.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” he said in a smooth, deep voice.

“You have?” I said, involuntarily rising toward him. I inhaled deeply. He smelled like black licorice.

He reached out his hand and cupped my cheek. His touch was electrifying. “You know you belong to me, don’t you.”

My alarm clock shrieked, and I catapulted from bed, drenched in sweat. I ran my hands through my sopping hair. “Jesus H. Christ. What was that?”

“
Another hot dream about me, my sweet?”
Guy said in a heart-stopping lathery voice.

It was true; I dreamed about him way too much, but this was different. “My only dreams of you involve kicking your man-nuggets,” I lied. “And, by the way, you usually look like that troll from Lord of the Rings. I’m sure it’s a premonition.”

“
In about twelve hours, you are going to be very disappointed. I hear a nunnery in your future.”

“I never agreed to your wager. Remember? Besides, what’s with you and this nun thing? Do you have some weird fetish? Is that normal for decrepit cave-dwelling creatures?”

Guy laughed and it instantly ignited every cell in my body. His laugh was the kind that could melt a polar icecap. It was powerful, yet inviting. It was infectious to the nth degree. I could hear it every day for the rest of my life, and it still wouldn’t be enough.

The man from my dream suddenly flashed in my mind.

I sat down on the edge of the bed and rubbed my face.
Oh, god. Maybe it was a premonition.
I’d never had one, but that didn’t rule out the possibility. Not only had the man been powerful and irresistibly seductive, even without a face, but he was definitely dangerous.

“Guy, your eyes wouldn’t happen to be turquoise, would they?”

Several moments passed before he finally answered. “
Why do you ask?”
his tone irritated.

“Answer me.” I grabbed my floral, terrycloth robe from the hook behind the door.

“
You first.”

I suddenly felt my stomach lose altitude. Why was he pushing back? If he didn’t have turquoise eyes, then the question was innocuous. “Don’t. No games. Not now.”

“
They are not turquoise. Now tell me, why you ask?”

Was he lying? I didn’t feel the conviction in his tone like I normally did when he spoke. Would it really change anything if he was? I decided it wouldn’t. I was committed to seeing this all the way through. Even if it killed me. “No reason. The troll in my nightmare had turquoise eyes,” I lied.

He hissed with frustration. “
Go get ready. You’re wasting time.”

***

Predictably, General Temper-Tantrum wasn’t feeling quite so calm about the situation, which meant it really was going to be dangerous. It seemed the closer we got to the airport, the worse his foul language became. He was giving me a massive headache.

Once finally airborne, I slipped the hood of my pink sweatshirt over my hair and turned my head nonchalantly away from the passenger to my side toward the window to my left. “Would you please chill out?” I snapped quietly.

“
Chill out? I am perfectly calm!”

I wanted to pull out my hair. “Please?” I begged.

He sighed. “
I’m sorry. Emma? Did I thank you?”

“About ten times. But if you really want to thank me, how about some of those answers you promised.”

“
Not yet.”

“Why not? We had a deal, remember?”

He growled.
“What do you need to know, my sweet?”

“What are you?

“
Any question, but that.”

I huffed in protest. “Fine. Who are you?”

“
And that.”

Before I protested again, he threw me a bone.
“Do you recall how upset I became when your grandmother disappeared?”

How could I forget? I remembered every detail from that day. It was when my life went from frustrating and weird to downright miserable. My grandmother was the heart of our family. She was…amazing. And I don’t mean it in a “never forgets my birthday” or “or bakes the best cookies” kind of way—although those both applied—but people were drawn to her. They adored her. Maybe it was her wide green eyes or her inviting smile, but I think there was something else. She radiated life and people flocked to her like moths to a flame. And when she disappeared, it tore me apart. My entire family spent months looking for her, even hiring private detectives, but she was gone. Just…gone. The authorities—idiots—officially concluded she ran away. Her passport was missing, and she’d personally cleaned out her bank account. The video at the bank confirmed it. But I don’t think any of us, especially my mom, could accept that she’d leave us like that. I knew in my bones she was dead because only death would keep her away.

“I remember. The day is permanently seared in my brain. Why?” I asked.

“
I knew her”
He was barely audible over the roar of the engines
. “And, I’d like to think she and I were friends. So, you see, you have nothing to fear from me.”

My heart stopped. “You’re joking,” I whispered.
Hiccup!

“
No, I’d never joke about something like that.”

I jumped from my seat, hiccuping and ignoring the disgruntled passengers who had to stand to let me into the isle. I needed privacy for this conversation, so that meant the bathroom.

The line was three people long, and the wait felt like an eternity of foot-tapping, watch-watching, and hiccuping. When it was finally my turn, I slammed the door. “What the hell are you talking about?” I hissed at the wall.

“
Like I said, I knew Gabriela.”