Accidentally...Over?: Accidentally Yours 5 (21 page)

“And live, you shall. For a very,
very
long time—forever, if I can help it.”

Her brain tripped and stumbled. “What did you mean by that?”

“Why don’t you let me finish showing you the house?” he suggested.

“Máax? What is going—”

Whoa.
She suddenly remembered Máax throwing her into that pool of dark green water in the middle of the jungle. “Wait! What happened at the cenote?”

The sound of Máax scratching his thick beard perked up her ears. Why was he thinking so hard about his answer?

“Let us go inside,” he finally said.

She swiped for his hand or arm or some piece of him but missed. “No. Tell me now.”

Máax was silent. Was he still there?

“Máax?” She waited for several moments.

“Yes,” he answered. “I am here.”

“What’s going on?” Why did she have a bad feeling?

A gust of wind blew her hair over her face. She pushed it back and caught a glimpse of the ocean. Her ocean. At least that hadn’t changed. She’d give anything for a swim right now to calm her nerves.

“It is simple,” Máax said coldly. “I took you to my realm and filled you with our light. You are immortal now. This is why your eyes are now turquoise. Like mine.”

They are?
“What? Sorry?”
Did he just say immortal?

Máax grabbed her hand and placed it over his heart. “I am truly sorry for not telling you, but—”

“Sorry? You’re… sorry? You can’t just do that kind of crap without telling a person, Máax.”

“Ahhh,” he argued, “but I can. I am a god, and by definition, that is our right. We meddle. We make decisions. We use the powers and gifts bestowed upon us by the Universe and Creator to keep humans safe.”

He couldn’t possibly be serious. Could he? “Okay. But this is my life! You had no right to—”

“Are you saying you are displeased that you will live?” he asked smugly.

She closed her mouth. That wasn’t the problem. Not even close!

“Because,” he added, “I know you merely pretended
to be comfortable with the notion of death, but I saw the truth. You came here because you wanted to survive. I merely took things a step further and granted you immortality.” He paused, giving her a moment to process.

True. She did want to live. He’d given her a glorious glimpse of what life could be like when filled with passion for a man who was so incredible, so powerful and sexy that he made her knees wobble. And he could never die. Ever. He’d never grow old or sick. He would never leave her. That was, if she decided to stay with him, which, at this very moment, was not sounding like a ticket to Happy Ever After Land. How could he make her immortal and not discuss it with her? How?

“So you see,” Máax continued, “you made the choice, I simply gave you what you wanted.” He said proudly, “And I fixed your tooth.”

Conceited, smug, sonofabi—

“I also gave myself something I wanted—well, needed, actually: you.” He added, “And your safety as well.”

Her fury wavered for a moment but rebounded quickly. It was one thing to want to save her, but treating her like she was… she was… not his equal.
Uh-uh.

“I’m going for a walk.” She turned toward the beach. “And you better not follow me.”

“You should not be alone,” he argued.

Really? Really?
“You know, for a deity, you’re not very smart.” She threw out her arms. “I’m immortal now, remember? I don’t need your protection anymore.”

She didn’t need anyone. Never had. Because she was a survivor.
Uh-huh. That’s right.

Ashli stomped down the beach, anger spouting from her ears. So much had happened so fast that she couldn’t
quite make it all feel real inside her head. Okay, the anger felt real. Sort of like a wasp break-dancing in her frontal lobe. The hollowness felt real, too. She’d left her home, her café, her life.

Well, you didn’t really have much of a life, now did you?

Maybe not, but it was
her
life. And she’d left it all because Máax had convinced her that the future would be a safe place. Then why did she feel more in jeopardy than ever?

Because Máax deceived you.
How was that possible? Wasn’t he supposed to be the God of Truth?

He made you immortal without telling you, which isn’t the same as lying.

Loophole! It’s a loophole, and no excuse for not asking you. Stupid god!

As Ashli marched down the shore, the sound of the crashing jewel-colored waves soothing her temper, something caught her eyes. Or should she say a whole lot of somethings?

“Wow.” Ashli pivoted on her heel and took in the scenery. Several new eco-resorts, tons of swimmers, enormous houses—the place looked so different. So many more people now. Where had her quaint little Mexican beach town gone?

Her heart sank as one more cherished object simply evaporated into the past, nothing but a memory.

And what the hell is that?
Ashli said to herself with disgust, her gaze zeroing in on a foul, two-story structure that looked like Chuck E. Cheese’s and Tarzan went out for a wild night of tequila shots and ended up having an illegitimate architectural love child. It was horrendous. Giant plastic palm trees with flashing lights, gaudy jungle
murals, and bright red umbrellas with a cartoon drawing of a topless male monkey bearing a six-pack and drinking a cappuccino assaulted her eyes. The cheesiness made her monkey-nauseous. And it was in the exact same spot her café used to be!

No. No. Noooo… Monkeyccino’s? Wh-wha-what?
Where had Cielito Lindo’s gone?

Despite the urge to monkey-hurl, she couldn’t prevent her feet from guiding her body straight for the doors. When she stepped inside, a burst of cool air hit her face, as did the obnoxious decorum, which was equally as “cheesified” as the outside with stuffed monkeys and fake plants hanging from the ceiling, a rope with a swinging Tarzan manikin, and an indoor waterfall. But what shocked her most, besides the place being three times as big as her café had been, were the waiters. Topless Ricky Martin look-alikes with oodles of bulging muscles and ripped abs, wearing surfer shorts, bow ties, and little monkey ears, served coffee to a mass of hungry, giggling women.
Holymotherofmalemonkeystrippers!
What had they done to her café?

The place was packed with tourists, mostly females, sitting around sipping frothy milk shakes.

Ashli glanced at the wall-sized menu above the registers.
One hundred and fifty pesos?
Christ, did the drinks come with a free lap dance and a gold bracelet? That was outrageous!

Was this Fernando’s doing? And where was he?

Calm down. Maybe the place was sold.
But wouldn’t Máax have told her?
Yeah, like he told you about your trip to deityville?

Ashli strolled past the short line and placed her hands
on the counter next to the register.
“Disculpe, señor. Se encuentra Fernando?”

The young man with short brown hair—yes, yes, topless and bulging everywhere—wearing a red Monkeyccino’s visor stared with a dopey grin, ogling her. “Hi. How are you today, miss?” he said in English. Guess it made sense that employees of a strip café called Monkeyccino’s would speak “American.”

“I’ve been better. Thanks. So is he here?”

He continued smiling. “Who?”

“Fernando.” What was this guy on?

“Which one? There are five Fernandos,” the young man said.

“Five? Five?” She thought about it for a moment. Fernando would be twenty years older now so that would make him… “Well, this Fernando is about thirty-nine. He’s worked here for twenty years, maybe?” If he still worked there, that was.

The man grimaced. “You’re serious?”

Ashli felt the blood drain from her face into her toes. “Yeah. Why?”

“Señor Fernando died ten years ago,” he said apologetically. “In a hurricane. His five sons inherited the café.”

Shit.
“What? Dead?” And he’d named his five sons after himself? Okay, that was just weird. And slightly narcissistic. But still, poor, poor Fernando. “Are you sure?”

The young man nodded.

Oh no. This was all her fault. Had she stayed around, he would have gone on to be a teacher like he’d planned.

No. Either way, you wouldn’t have been there.
Had she stayed, she would have died.

Ashli placed her hand over her heart. “Dead. He’s
dead.” She looked at the young man. “You’re sure?” she asked again.

“Yes. I’m sorry.”

Ashli bolted for the back door toward the beach. She started running, her tears streaking across her face. It was all gone. Everything and everyone.

I made a mistake coming here. A big one.

Fifteen

Máax paced across the tiled living room floor. He’d desperately wanted to follow Ashli, but he’d already pushed things too far. Not only had he lied about the prophecy—and it was only a matter of time before she found out—but he’d also withheld his true intentions: to make her immortal. It was just as good as a lie in his book. And if he followed her now, she’d think him a complete chauvinistic bastard. He couldn’t have that. Not when their days together were now numbered. Although, he supposed, they always were. He’d broken so many sacred laws, now including making Ashli immortal without the gods’ permission and traveling back to his realm from which he was banished—no regrets, of course—that he’d probably be sentenced to entombment for two eternities. Maybe three. His only means to change that fate would be for the gods to modify their laws regarding mandatory punishment. But that required something nearly impossible: a unanimous vote.

Not likely.
The gods never agreed unanimously on anything.

You could always blackmail your brethren.
He scowled at himself for merely entertaining the thought. The kind of secrets he kept were the sort that could destroy a person, or deity in this case. And he would never betray an oath or hurt his family simply to save his own skin. The mere thought was repugnant. No. He’d known the fate he’d accepted when he’d broken their most sacred laws. He wouldn’t try to wiggle out of it at someone else’s expense. That’s not the sort of man he was.

Of course, if they didn’t stop the apocalypse, none of that really mattered.

Infernum.
He sighed. There was no hope of him having a future with Ashli, was there? Well, at least Ashli was out of immediate danger.

“Máax. Where the devil’s turd are you?” a deep, familiar male voice called out from the direction of Ashli’s kitchen.

Ah, hell.
Máax prayed it wasn’t who he thought because he’d hoped to have a few days with Ashli, at least.

Máax silently tiptoed closer for a look.

Fucking fantastic.
It was Niccolo DiConti, General of the Vampire Army, and two of his biker-looking vampire soldiers.

Of course, what did he expect? The Uchben knew Máax had arrived at Ashli’s house with Ashli, which meant everyone knew everything. There were no secrets among the Uchben.

“I know he’s here,” one of them whispered. “I can smell his overbloated ego.”

“Coming from a vampire,” Máax said, “I find that remark marginally amusing.”

A devious smile flickered over Niccolo’s lips. “Ah, Máax. If it isn’t my favorite invisible deity.” Niccolo’s European accent tinged his comment with natural sarcasm. “Don’t you look well.”

“That joke is as saggy as your thousand-year-old Italian ass. By the way, Cimil’s favorite flea market just called and would like you to return their Armani knockoff.”

“This is Hugo Boss. My wife says his suits make my ass look centuries younger. Do you really think it looks old?” Niccolo turned, lifted his blazer, and showed Máax the back of his pants.

Oh, gods. He was serious. “What do you want, vampire?” Máax asked.

Niccolo’s long dark hair pulled into a ponytail contrasted with his luminescent eyes. Eyes that flickered between apple green and aquamarine like a godsdamned happy meter. Did he have to be so pleased about coming to take Máax away?

“You know very well I’m no longer a vampire; however, it’s no skin off my unfanged teeth if you prefer to call me that. I happen to like vampires very much.”

The story of how Niccolo ceased to be a vampire was a very, very long one—involved Cimil, say no more—but his wife and coruler, Helena, was a new vampire.

“I repeat, what do you want?” But Máax already suspected the miserable truth.

Niccolo straightened his black tie and then gave his two men a knowing nod that sent them outside. “You and I both know why I’m here; the gods, your brethren and my allies, are calling for your immediate incarceration. And from what I understand, you have a lot of explaining to do.”

“I’ll explain myself when I’m good and ready, Niccolo. In the meantime, tell my brothers and sisters to…”
Oh, what is that expression Cimil uses? Ah!
“… Suck it.”

Niccolo laughed. “I love these modern phrases. Suck it. Circle twerk. Ear boner.
Carpe noctem
.”

Máax cocked one brow, not that Niccolo noticed. “I see you’ve been spending excessive amounts of time on UrbanDictionary.com.” It was also one of his brethren’s favorite places to learn new human phrases.