Accidentally...Over?(5)

What the fuu … ? He stumbled to the side but caught himself. He'd never  experienced anything so unusual, so potent. But what was it? It didn't  hurt. No, quite the opposite. It felt like a sack of fucking wonderful  dropped on his head.

Máax looked at the woman once more, and it hit him again.

Click.

He gasped. She was doing this to him? How? There was no logical explanation, other than …

He lost his train of thought. Gods, she is magnificent.

Holy Christ! He stepped back and stared at Ashli. Is that …  Am I … ? He was drooling! Like a hungry dog!

The odd, euphoric sensation hit him again, nearly tumbling him over.  Nothing in his seventy thousand years of existence could help him  articulate the sensation. It was as if the damned woman had jumped  inside his body, soldered herself to every molecule of his light, and  then sucked away any rational thought. The hollow pit in his chest, one  he hadn't known existed, felt instantly placated. That spot now felt  warm and mushy. The center of gravity shifted from beneath his feet  toward the direction of the woman and began pulling him to her like a  shooting star.

Oh, shit. She's my mate? He took two more steps back. No. No. Hell no!  But how? And why now? He'd never asked the Universe for a mate. He  didn't want this. He didn't want to be tethered to some …  some weak  mortal woman, or any woman for that matter. Where was the godsdamned  logic in that? For fuck sake, he was a lone wolf-answered to no one and  nothing. And he was invisible, went where he liked when he liked. (For  the time being, anyway.) After he went on trial for his recent multitude  of offenses, he'd be entombed for a very, very, very …  yes, very fucking  long time! And now this, this …  woman had messed it all up! Filii canis!  Now he was truly going to suffer. He'd have something to miss!

Then another truth dawned on him. Cimil set me up! Again! He was going  to kill her. And, gods fucking dammit, did the woman-this, this,  Ashli-have to be so godsdamned hot?

Infernum. Her beauty was beyond that of any deity. Dark golden-brown  skin, hair like black-licorice ribbons wild about her face and trailing  down her back, and exotic eyes, turning up in the corners like a  feline's. And her lips …  Her lips were plump and full, just the sort a  man longs to feel sliding over every inch of his-

Get a hold of yourself, man! But holy saints she was hot. What was he going to do?

Why don't you start by saving her, asshole?

Right. First things first, though; he had to get her to stop screaming. "Ashli, I command you to stop screaming."

Her beautiful hazel eyes widened, and she bolted toward the dusty, narrow road that ran along the beachfront.

Sanguine ad infernum! She's running away? "Ashli, I command you to stop.  I won't hurt-" A large silver bus came out of nowhere. "No!"





Three





"Cimiiil," Máax roared.

"Máax, honey." Cimil pulled down the front of her dress and Roberto  dropped his hands. "I didn't expect to see you back so soon!" Cimil  snorted. "Get it? See you? Damn, I'm funny."

"Have you completed the task?" Roberto asked. "You've only been gone for one minute."                       
       
           



       

Máax tried to speak, but his red-hot anger and desire to punch something got in the way.

Cimil waved her hands in the air. "Máax? You still here?"

Máax cleared the rage-coated lump in his throat. "Yeah. I'm here."

"What's wrong?" Cimil placed her palms against the glass.

What was wrong? What was wrong? She had the impudence to ask what was  wrong? "You set me up, Cimil! That's what's fucking wrong!"

Cimil began chewing her index finger. "Why, Máax," she said in an  exaggerated southern belle accent, "I do believe you're vexed. But I  assure you, sir, I don't have the slightest clue what's gotten your  man-fritters in a pickle." She fanned her face.

"Don't start your bullshit, Cimil. You knew who she was, didn't you? And  you sent me to her! What the sanguine ad infernum were you thinking?"  he roared.

"I was thinking," Cimil replied, "that the doom clock is ticking, and  it's about time you met your media naranja, the other half of your  orange, the hop in your scotch, the ohhhhh in your oh, baby. And don't  you speak Latin to me! I hate Latin. It reminds me of the time a bunch  of witches threw me in a pot and cooked me! With carrots and onions, no  less. Can you believe that? Not everything tastes like chicken."

"I'm going to kill you, Cimil." What had she gotten him into?

A mate? A mate? He didn't want a damned mate!

"Now, now, brother-"

"You know I face entombment. For eternity! If we survive this!"

Cimil sighed. "Máax, I'm sorry-not really-but the woman must be saved  regardless, and you're truly the only god for the job. Besides, who's to  say you wouldn't have met her anyway? She is your destiny, your  fate-the good kind. And you're right, who's to say we all get out of  this apocalypse alive? Don't you want to experience true love just once  before your time is up?"

True love? Being mated wasn't true love. It was being shackled against  one's will. It was cosmic brainwashing. "So I may act like a pathetic,  lovesick idiot, unable to control his physical desires even when in  public? No, thank you."

"Don't know what you're missin'." Cimil sang her words and then did her  strange little jazz hands move. "It's magical. Besides, if you really,  really don't want her, you can always have what's-her-face erase Ashli  from your memory."

What's-her-face was their sister, the Goddess of Forgetfulness. Actually, that was a pretty good idea.

Roberto pulled Cimil close. "You are so sexy when you're thoughtful, my  love. I am going to bone you until your head spins." The two began  mauling each other with hands and tongues.

Love was so degrading. Why would he want that?

"Guys," Máax said.

They ignored him as they grunted, ground, moaned, and slurped. Máax felt his immortal skin crawl.

"Guys!" he yelled.

The two paused and sneered in his general direction.

"I need to-"

"Máax," Cimil said. "Yes. You still have to save her-"

"But-"

"Okay!" she barked. "I'm sorry for introducing you to the one woman in  the world who has any chance in hell of making you happy. And perhaps  less bitter. And prickish. But what's done is done and-"

"I killed her," he blurted out.

Fuck. How had it gone so wrong? He was there with her one moment, the next she was gone.

"You killed her?" Roberto stifled a snicker.

"I did not mean to," Máax explained. "Irrational, crazy woman. She ran  out in front of a bus. There wasn't even any fucking traffic. It was  seven in the godsdamned morning. She just"-he let out an anguished  sigh-"ran away."

Cimil burst with laughter.

"This is not funny." Perhaps this woman was not really his mate, he  thought. Perhaps the Universe and Cimil simply wanted to have a little  fun with him. Because he'd never heard of one's mate fleeing in terror.                       
       
           



       

But why did it chafe him?

Cimil continued to giggle. "Like hell it's not funny. I sent you back to  save someone, and you get her killed in what-sixty seconds? Nice job,  Buck Rogers. Biddy, biddy!" Cimil elbowed Roberto. "Get it? Get it?  Biddy, biddy. Like the little robot who always caused problems." Her  laughter died with a sad, little sputter when she noticed Roberto's cold  stare. "Oh, never mind. Listen, Máax, glad you came back to report on  the fine work you just did. But-and I mean this with all of the hate in  my cold, twisted heart-what the hell are you doing here? We've already  had two earthquakes. Two! Get your ass back to 1993 and fix it. You  still have to save her."

Hmmm. Good point. What was he doing there? He guessed he had been so  shocked by what happened to Ashli that he hadn't quite known what to do.  Thankfully, the bus had been going so fast that she'd not suffered, but  that did not make the event any less traumatic. She died. She'd run  away from him and died.

"I'm leaving," he grumbled.

"Thatta boy! And next time, could you come back ten minutes later? Roberto and I need a chance to play hokey-pokey." She winked.

"Two minutes. Make it two mind-blowing minutes." Roberto began unzipping his leather pants.

Máax grimaced. Had they no shame? Were they really going to have sex in a  cell with a glass wall, with Roberto's men milling about, and the other  gods and their mates drugged, moments from waking up?