Accidentally...Over?(13)

This conversation was simply too surreal for words. "I can't do this anymore."

"Do what?" His voice filled the room every time he spoke. Why did it  have that strange effect, like his voice flowed right through her and  she heard him with her entire body instead of with just her ears?

"This!" she hissed. "I can't keep talking to thin air."

"Of course you can. You are doing it quite well."

It was funny-this man, or whatever he was, spoke with the naivety of  child and the authority of a king. He was kind of sweet but a total  a-hole at the same time. It was a strange combination. If she was, in  fact, losing her mind, she had to give herself a few brownie points for  originality.                       
       
           



       

She sighed.

"Perhaps," he said, "if I were to introduce myself, you might feel more at ease."

Oh, nice. Let's make friends. "Why not?"

"Excellent." She felt the bed sink on one side. The indentation of where he sat was in the shape of an …  ass?

"Are you really naked?" she asked.

"Yes. Did I not say that already? Are your ears not functioning properly?"

A-hole.

"But I suppose it deserves an explanation," he added.

Sweet.

"I will start by explaining that I am a god. An ancient god. And you will do well to heed my every word."

Huh?

"Because I have come here with the sole purpose of saving your life."

Scary.

"What? Why?" she asked.

She heard the faint sound of whiskers being scratched. Of course, how  can he shave if he's invisible? she thought to herself sarcastically.

"I cannot provide many details," he said, "because I do not have them.  However, twenty years from now, you will do something very important for  humanity. You will stop the end of the world if you survive, which you  will. Because I am here to save you."

Annnnd add crazy. Sweet, crazy, scary a-hole.

She closed her eyes. This was simply all too much.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Trying to fall asleep so I can wake back up," she explained.

"Ashli. This is most serious. I assure you. Otherwise, why would I waste my time with you?"

Pompous. Add pompous.

"Oh, trust me. I'm taking this seriously," she said.

She felt his hot breath wash over her face. The bed sank to either side of her head. Was he leaning over her?

"I do not joke, Ashli," he censured her. His hot, sensual scent filled  her nostrils. "You will cease your foolish behavior and listen carefully  because there is nothing more important than saving you."

Simultaneous explosions of heated thunderbolts and ice-cold shivers  exploded over her body. She didn't know why, but she found herself  needing to touch him, to make sure he was real. It was …  as if …  she  needed it more than the blood in her veins. She felt her heart might  actually collapse if she couldn't have proof. Proof he was really,  really there.

Cautiously, she reached for him, her breath sticking in her throat. Her  palms collided with hot flesh. A man's flesh. She gasped as a jolt of  unchaste neediness surged through her. She couldn't pull back. Her hands  molded to his face and began to explore. A sculpted jaw covered in a  thick, short beard; sharp cheekbones; soft, thick brows. She heard his  breathing stop. Was he holding it? Did he feel the same wanton elation?  Ohmygod. It was amazing, like nothing she'd ever experienced in her  entire life.

Her hands slid just above his ears and found soft hair. She gingerly  glided her fingertips down, down, down, following the silky strands  until she reached their tips, lingering just above his shoulder. Skin.  Oh, God. She wanted to touch every taut inch.

"What are you?" she whispered.

He pulled away, leaving her grasping nothing but air.

She blinked and snapped out of her trance. Had it been an illusion? No.  Please, no. She just might die if she discovered that pool of lifesaving  water was a mirage.

"Don't go," she begged. She never begged anyone for anything.

"I am here." His voice sounded irritated, shaken.

"Please, tell me. What are you?"



Máax stood with his back pressed to the wall and stared down at Ashli,  her hands extended in midair as if beckoning him to return.

What happened? He didn't know, but now he was in a state of what he  believed humans referred to as WTFH. Because he knew damned well that  LOVE was just an acronym for "loss of valuable energy," and love was  exactly what he'd felt. Or was it merely his mate's bond drawing him in,  the Universe's masterful way of conspiring?

The moment Ashli touched him, his light erupted with rapturous energy  that spiraled and twisted, coalescing into a single strand of light. He  wanted to envelop himself in it and drink from it. Then the strand  sieved through his skin, into his veins, and tangled itself around his  heart like a boa constrictor capturing its prey. The cord began to  elongate, stretching through time, through this world into the next,  until it reached the land of dead souls. Ashli. Ashli was there! He  witnessed the strand of brilliant light tether itself to Ashli's wrist.  He began pulling, exerting every fiber of his being to extract her like a  desperate man attempting to salvage his own heart from a pit of hungry  vipers. Máax watched in terror as his grip faltered, and the cord slid  from his blistering hands. He screamed Ashli's name, mirroring her cries  of agony as she dissolved inside a pool of vicious, hungry souls,  feeding from her light.                       
       
           



       

WTFAIGTDN? What the fuck am I going to do now?

And why do I keep speaking to myself in acronyms? They are quite annoying.

Máax's heart raced at a sickening pace, and his chest expanded with one  careful breath, the kind of breath a man takes when he's about to pray  for a miracle. What had the vision meant? Yes, he understood his role  was to save her, but there was something else. The Universe was trying  to tell him something.

"What. Are. You?" she repeated.

He felt an unfamiliar lump of doubt in his throat. "I am your mate."

"Sorry?" she said.

He cleared his throat. "You are my …  match. My soul mate, which I already  knew. But what I do not comprehend is why the Universe wants to  exterminate you. And she will not quit until she has you."



Some things in life have no explanation. This was one of them. Because  when the strange male voice spoke those words, Ashli knew he'd spoken  the truth. It was like drinking a glass of cold water from a mountain  stream; you recognize the taste of purity, even if you're unable to  describe or articulate it. That's how his words felt. There was simply  an absence of lies or deceit. Just …  truth.

"Oh, God." She sat up slowly, rubbing her forehead. "I always knew I was different, but this is too much."

A warm hand embraced her own and that strange current of electricity  once again flowed through her body. Her eyes couldn't help but seek him  out.

"Why can't I see you?" she said. She recalled the image of the man  coming from the ocean, the outline of his flawless male body glistening  in the sun. He was definitely worth seeing.

Ohmygod. The dreams! She'd had them ever since the accident. This man in  her dreams had been faceless, he'd done things to her body that left  her feeling almost embarrassed but also deliciously weak and sated, and  he'd pleasured her in every possible way known to man-errr, woman.

That's him! He's the man from my dreams!

"It is my punishment for breaking a few rules," he explained without  emotion. "My mortal shell was taken from me. But I do not want to  discuss that now. I must go to see my brethren."

What? He was leaving? "You can't go."

That warm hand, gentle but rough, trailed across her cheek. "I will return as quickly as I can."

"Why do you have to leave?"

"Because the Universe is waiting for any opportunity to take you. I must find out why."

She watched the door open.

"Wait!" But he was already gone. She felt his absence in the air.

She shook her head-ow, ow, ow-unable to process the barrage of emotions  barreling over her. He was real. He wasn't Death, but an invisible god.  He was her soul mate. The Universe wanted to kill her.

This can't be happening. I need meds. "Dr. Ruiz?"





Eight





Like a drippy old faucet, an anxious voice inside Máax's head commenced  nagging the moment he walked out of that hospital. "Go back. Go back to  her," it said. And while the sensible part of his mind understood this  to be the effect of their bond-a bond he was still determined to forget  once this mission concluded-his body did not seem to give a rat's ass  and protested violently. Leaving her felt like having his atoms busted  apart with a crowbar. Not only that, but traveling to a time where Ashli  no longer existed felt like traveling to hell. In the future, she was  still dead. He had not saved her yet.