Accidentally...Over?

Book 5: Accidentally Yours

by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

Genres: Fantasy Romance; Paranormal Romance; Erotic & Steamy Romance

Synopsis

When it comes to Máax, the God of Truth who refuses to follow the rules, there's more to him than meets the eye. Literally. Because Maáx is invisible! Which is probably why, after seventy-thousand years, he's still unable to find a mate.

Ashli Rosewood was never meant to die. In fact, her death might be the very reason the gods are now faced with stopping that pesky doomsday right around the corner. If only there was a way to undo the past.

Cue Máax. Seven feet of divine masculinity and the unruly god charged with saving Ashli. With a little help from an ancient Mayan tablet, Máax will travel back in time and set things right.

Easy, right?

Wrong.

Because Máax has one teensy challenge. He's invisible. And every time this impatient, powerful deity gets anywhere near Ashli, he spooks her right into harm's way. Meaning...she dies, and he has to start all over again.

Cliff, banana peel, runaway storage container filled with Belgian chocolates, bee sting, the list goes on and on. Does the Universe have it out for this girl? Sure seems that way. But why? And what will Máax do when he begins to suspect that not only is Ashli the key to stopping the apocalypse, but she may be "the one" he's been waiting seventy-thousand years for.

How will he save the one woman the Universe insists on killing and who wants nothing to do with him?

Approx. 85,000 words.

The Accidentally Yours Series BOOK 1: Accidentally in Love with...a God?
BOOK 2: Accidentally Married to...a Vampire?
BOOK 3: Sun God Seeks...Surrogate?
BOOK 3.5: Accidentally...Evil? (a Novella)
BOOK 4: Vampires Need Not...Apply?
BOOK 4.5: Accidentally...Cimil? (a Novella)
BOOK 5: Accidentally...Over?

Release date: August 26, 2014

Publisher: Grand Central Publishing

Print pages: 400

Sample

Death is trying to seduce me.

I always suspected he would come for me after I survived the accident, and now there’s no doubt. And death isn’t some ominous creature that carries a bloody scythe, his face obscured by a black cloak, his spindly fingers protruding from the cuff of his dripping sleeve as he enters your dinner party, points to your plates, and declares in a gravelly voice, “You’re all dead. It was the canned salmon.” Oh no. This is no snarky Brit skit, and he’s no monster.

Death is a sex god.

He’s tall, built from indestructible solid bricks of muscle. His cheekbones are chiseled works of art, and his full, sensual lips are meant for doing anything but killing. Like I said, sex god.

How do I know this? He’s been watching me, whispering in my ear while I sleep, quietly hiding in the shadows while I eat, while I work, while I shower.

So for once, I’m turning the tables.

I follow the sound of his footsteps through my beach cottage, out my back porch, and then pick up his large footprints in the sand. I crouch behind the tall, dry grass blanketing the massive sand dune. The crashing waves mask the sound of my thumping heart and heavy, frantic breaths. I’m sweating like mad as the tropical morning sun beats down on my back, and I spot my stalker splashing in the waves.

He stands, and I can barely breathe when I look at him.

Though he’s nearly transparent, the outline of his naked body glistens with drops of ocean water reflected by the sun. I’ve never seen a more beautiful man. Shoulders that span the width of two normal-sized men, powerful arms and legs that make me wonder if he’s not actually carved from rock or molded from steel, and incredibly sculpted… jeez, everything. There’s not an inch on this beast—not a neck, an ab, not a pec or a thigh—that isn’t constructed from potent, lethal-looking muscle. Well, except his hair. Though I can’t see the color, it’s beautifully thick and falls to his shoulders. I imagine it’s a warm shade of brown, streaked with reds and golds. Because he’s utterly beautiful and that’s the kind of hair a beautiful man would have. Yes, he’s a god, not the bringer of death. And I can’t help but wonder why he’s made that way. Is it so that when he comes for me, there’ll be some sort of consolation—getting to see his face? I don’t know, but I’m not ready to see it yet. I want to live. I want to grow old. I want to fall in love. Just once before my time is up.

Yet somehow, I want him, too. Why? That’s gotta mean I’m loca, right?

My eyes study every poetic detail of this “man,” hoping to find answers. But there’s nothing. Nothing that will help save me from him.

Suddenly, I see his chin lift and his head turns in my direction.

Can he see me? Oh my God. He’s coming right for me.

I bolt from my hiding place and make a run for it. I know if I make it to my house I’ll manage to lock the doors, but that won’t stop him. There is nowhere to hide from death, but I run anyway.

I make it to my back porch and reach for the door, but I slip on something. Shit. Really? A banana peel?

My body crashes to the hard cement. My head cracks on the sharp edge of the porch’s step, and I can’t move. All I feel is my beating heart and heaving lungs, burning with fear.

“Dammit, woman. Why the hell do you always run from me?” His deep, melodic voice washes over me, and I love how it soothes my soul.

I look up and try to focus my eyes, but he’s difficult to make out. His dripping hair catches only a few rays of morning sunlight.

“You’re so beautiful,” I croak. “But I changed my mind; I don’t want to die. Please don’t take me away.”

I feel his warm hand brush against my cheek. “I am trying to save you, Ashli. Why won’t you let me?”

Why does he say that? Why is he lying to me? It doesn’t matter now, because I’m already dying. The darkness begins to swallow me.

“Shit!” I roll from my bed and fall to the floor with a thump.

Sonofabitch! Why do I keep having these dreams?



Camp Uchben. Sedona, Arizona. Near the Estate of Kinich Ahau, ex–God of the Sun. February 1

Eenie, meenie, miney, mo. Catch an invisible deity by the toe. If he hollers, don’t let go. Just give him Ashli and watch him—oh, dammit, what rhymes with go? Ho? Crow? Potatoooo?

“Cimiiil? Are you listening? Cimil!” Roberto the Ancient One rapped his pale knuckles on the thick glass of the holding cell. “Have you not heard a word I said, woman?”

From her cot, Cimil looked at the very large, very angry vampire standing outside her cell and wiggled her fingers. “Howdy, Bob!”

Dark, lethal eyes gazed back with frustration. Or was it lust? Maybe both? Yes! It’s lustfration! My fave!

“I sincerely hope,” he said, “that you were not in the midst of devising yet another escape from your cell. It would foil everything.”

Escape? Not even a magical flea—Minky, her unicorn, hated those—could escape this three-story underground prison built to contain the most powerful of creatures alive: the gods themselves. Now, as for the foiling? Well…

“How did you know?” she asked.

“Because I am your mate,” he said. “And you are the Goddess of the Underworld; you cannot help your evil ways.”

“Good point.” She sat up and sighed happily, tugging at the hem of her fuzzy pink tank dress. “So wassup?”

“I am here to tell you the first task is complete. And now we will have sex. Hard. Hot. Savage immortal sex.”

“Sex? What? And why are you speaking? You vowed not to speak until this was over. It’s not over.” Cimil feigned a sudden interest in her jail cell, twisting a long lock of hair around her finger. She knew how that drove him crazy. Her long red hair was his fave. Or was it her ass? Or perhaps both?

Thank the gods I don’t have a hairy ass. Then he’d never leave me alone.

Carnal eagerness twinkled in Roberto’s ancient eyes. “I have captured the gods. Something you wagered to be impossible. In fact, I want to hear you say it. Say I am this thing you call awesomesalsa. Because that is what I am.”

“Awesomesauce,” she corrected.

“Yes. That,” he agreed.

She stared.

“Cimiiiil?” Roberto’s eyes bored into her, cautioning not to push him. “Say. It.”

“Nope.”

“Do it or no Love Boat for you tonight.”

Dammit! Why are vampires so cruel?

“Okay.” She stomped her foot. “I’ll say it: You rock. You’re the most awesome vampire ever to walk the planet.”

Roberto crossed his powerful arms over his broad chest. “Aaaand?”

Cimil huffed like a crabby four-year-old. “And if the apocalypse is halted, I vow to have your love child.” Maybe. “And I will keep my vow to marry you.” Maybe.

He displayed a set of gleaming white fangs, grinning from ear to ear. “And we will not fail, Cimil. Just as you are predisposed for destruction, I am predisposed for victory. Don’t ever doubt that.”

It was true. Although Roberto was a vampire, really the king and father of all vampires, he truly was an unrelenting force for good. Yes, yes, and victory. The damn man never failed at anything. She, on the other hand? It was a little known fact that the Universe had wired her to be the bringer of destruction—aka the apocalypse—but that didn’t mean she wasn’t good. Right? For thousands of years, she fought her nature, always doing the exact opposite of what her instincts dictated. Okay. Didn’t work out so great; they were all going to die in seven months. But still, she’d tried. And now, Roberto insisted if they worked together, they could turn everything around.

Pfff… Yeah. Right. They had a ninety-nine point nine-nine-nine-nine-nine-nine… nine percent chance of failing. In fact, she was ready to throw in the towel and party, enjoy these final months of existence. But she did love Roberto. And she did want to make him happy. Letting him have this one last battle meant a lot to her crusty, old ex-pharaoh. Okay, she had other reasons, too. But those were not for sharing aloud. Not even with herself. After all, she was evil and not to be trusted.

“Ah! And here comes my first step toward victory now.” Roberto glimpsed at the prison entrance.

One by one, Roberto’s vampire soldiers dragged the unconscious deities and several of their mates inside the surrounding glass-walled holding cells. Why? Well, she’d told Roberto about the visions she’d had: The gods finally lose their marbles—damned marbles, always getting lost like a rabid flock of zombie sheep!—and end up fighting each other. Then boom! Over! Done! Planet bye-bye.

Solution? They’d subdued the gods right in the middle of a summit meeting by filling the room with a harmless yet powerful gas made especially for the occasion. Not such a bad plan except, well, imprisoning the gods to keep them from going to battle with each other was a Band-Aid. They needed to permanently alter the trajectory of their paths. That’s where Máax, the God of Truth, would come in.

She hoped. Or maybe she didn’t. Who knew?

Damn, I love being me. Especially right now.

“Boy, are they going to be peeved when they wake up.” How fun!

Roberto flicked his wrist in a casual kingly sort of way. “I care not if your brethren feel angry. I simply want sex, as you prom—”

“Cimil! What is the meaning of this?” Máax’s deep voice boomed inside the institutional-style structure.

Ah! Right on schedule.

“Showtime,” Cimil whispered under her breath. “Hey, Máax baby! Now, before you get your mankini in a bunch—you are wearing underwear, aren’t you? It’s kinda hard to tell, with you being invisible and all.”

Poor guy. He’d had his mortal shell confiscated oodles of moons ago as part of a major deity spanking (aka punishment). He’d violated several divine laws, including repeatedly breaking the ban on time travel. All for good reasons, but still, he’d landed himself the precarious title of the El Gran Bad Boy.

“Cimil! Why have you betrayed us?” Máax’s voice radiated just to Roberto’s left, outside her cell.

Because you’re about to have your world rocked, and I’m so gonna enjoy watching?

Cimil cleared her throat. “There is a perfectly good explanation. And you will notice that I, too, am caged! So, it’s not like I’m—”

“You are exactly where you should be, Cimil,” Máax growled. “You will release the others immediately, or I will remove your mate’s pinkies. With a rusty nail. Or perhaps, a power washer—”

“Yikes! Okay. I get the point Dr. Franken-ewww. But I can’t release them.” She smiled sweetly, hoping to win points.

“I’ve already alerted the Uchben army; you will not get away with this,” Máax warned.

“Ha! You think we didn’t expect that?” Roberto had seen to it that nothing, nothing would get in the way of this plan. In fact, Cimil had to hand it to him; Roberto was more impressive than the new unicorn tat on her bum. “Why do you think we rounded up the entire vampire army for this occasion? They’re right outside.”

“You lie,” Máax said. “The vampire army is on mandatory furlough at Euro Disney. I can’t believe I just said that. Sounds so fucking ridiculous.”

But it was true. On both counts. In accordance with ancient law, all vampires had been sent away on an obligatory, one-year vacation in celebration of the recent extermination of all evil vampires. Obviously, they chose the happiest place on earth for this vacation. After thousands of years battling evil, who wouldn’t? Of course, no one knew that Roberto had made up this ridiculous “ancient” law in an effort to gather them up in one place without rousing suspicion, only to redeploy them here for today’s special event.

Cimil gloated. “What can I say? Roberto’s the man. And by man, I mean he’s really awesome. ’Cause he’s not a man, but a vampire—my vampire. Did I tell you how he rocks my world? Did I? Huh? Huh? Hu—”

Roberto hit the floor with a thud. He clawed at his neck, gasping for air.

“Máax! No! Let him go!” Cimil wailed. “Dammit, you overly spunky, nudist deity! Let me explain.”

Roberto grunted when something punched his nose. Máax’s fist? Blood trickled from Roberto’s face, and he winced in pain.

“You have exactly three seconds, Cimil, or I will remove his head,” Máax roared.

“Wait!” Cimil pleaded. “How did we go from pinkies to heads? You skipped arms and kidneys. What about earlobes?”

“Speak, you batshit crazy wench!”

Roberto’s vampire soldiers gathered around, but Cimil waved them back. They knew to obey her, no matter what, despite who wore the kingly britches.

“All right, but you’re not going to like this.” She cracked her knuckles. “Truth is, in about seven months, the gods destroy the planet. We get into some war with each other. I have done everything possible to change course, but I failed. Miserably. Locking us up is the only way to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

Máax released Roberto, and her beloved vampire sat up rubbing his neck, grumbling profanities in his native Egyptian tongue.

“This must be some sort of mistake,” Máax said.

I don’t make mistakes.

Yes, you do. Just this morning you lit your cell on fire while trying to make a grilled cheese with a flamethrower.

Fine… guilty as charged.

“Brother,” she said, “I’ve been dealing with end-of-the-world crappity doo for thousands of years, and I know when a dead end has been hit. The gods must be jailed until things are set right again.”

A long stretch of silence didn’t fill the air. Because silence can’t fill the air, now can it? That would be weird. Like saying—

Cimil! Focus. Get Máax on his way. He has work to do. “Look at me, Máax,” Cimil said. “You’re the God of Truth. You can smell a lie from a mile away.”

Another long, silent stretch.

“Truthfully,” Máax grumbled, “I find it difficult to know when you are telling the truth anymore. You’re so full of shit, even your aura is brown.”

Damn. He can see that? “That’s because I’ve been lying for so long, lies layered up layers of lies, that even when I tell the truth, I’m not really sure I am.” She shrugged. “Makes life kinda fun! Dontcha think?”

“No.”

Such a stick-in-the-godly-mud. “Okay, okay. I swear to you, on Roberto’s life—”

“Cimiiil? Do not tempt fate in such a manner,” Roberto objected.

Fate? Pfff… Tempt her all you like. Ain’t gonna make a sea turtle’s ass of a difference.

“Fine,” Cimil grumbled. “I swear on my own life that this time I’m telling the tru—”

The ground rumbled beneath their feet and the angry sound of grinding bedrock filled the cavernous room. Everyone in the prison stilled for three long seconds.

“What the fuck was that?” Máax asked as the emergency lights flickered on along with an ear-piercing siren.

“Oh, boy. That came a lot sooner than I thought,” Cimil yelled, cupping her hands over her ears.

“What came sooner?” Máax screamed.

“That’s the planet! She’s very attuned to the Universe and senses the end is near. She’s not happy!” Cimil pointed toward the ground. “According to my sources, there will be ten global earthquakes, none of them catastrophic until the final one right before the big un–Super Bowl event. After that, the shit hits the fan. Cities topple. We go to war. Our allies and humans take sides. Everything is destroyed.”

“That’s impossible,” Máax yelled over the noise.

“Oh no. Not impossible! Worst of all, pigs are finally gonna fly! It won’t be pretty. Have you ever seen one crap?” The screeching siren stopped. “Ah! That’s better. So what was I saying? Oh yeah. We’re screwed.”

“Cimil, please tell me this is a joke.”

“Okay. I made up the part about the pigs, but not the rest. So now do you see why I had to lock everyone up?”

Máax grumbled several unhappy thoughts in the key of F—effing, eff, eff, eff, and effing hell. “If the gods should be locked up to prevent this war, then why are you allowing me to remain free?” Máax asked.

Here came the hard part. She needed to convince Máax to once again break the sacred law banning time travel. It was expressly prohibited, not to mention difficult and extremely risky. However, Máax had already broken the rule a thousand times, landing him in hot water. Not that he cared. Bad boy alert! Sure, he’d had a perfectly good reason for each offense, but that didn’t mean there weren’t consequences. The last time he’d been caught, he’d been banished, stripped of his powers, and left without a human shell. Yep… powerless and invisible for ten thousand years. Again, not that he cared.

’Cause bad boys rule!

That said, he’d broken the law once again (so, so bad!) to save his sister, Ixtab (so, so thoughtful!), and if they managed to stop the apocalypse, he’d be tried again. This time, he’d be entombed for eternity. So, so sad. On the other hand, he was going down anyway, so…

Cimil cleared her throat. “I had another vision. I believe it’s the precise moment in time where everything could be put back on course.”

“Do you truly expect me to believe that?” Máax scoffed.

Yes! No. Maybe? “Okay. Technically, you’d be a baboon’s ass. A stinky one at that.”

Máax’s laugh was laced with sinister arrogance and just a smidgen of “you fucking amuse me.”

“Let us pretend for a moment that I believed you,” he said. “Then why do I have the feeling you’re going to ask me to do something unlawful?”

Cimil clapped. “Ding, ding, ding! I need you to go back a few teeny tiny decades, to 1993, find a certain chicky-boo, and make sure she doesn’t croak prematurely.”

“Why?”

Oh. There was no good way to explain it so she’d have to make something up. Hmmm… what story would make him believe? She tapped the side of her mouth.

“You are getting ready to lie. Aren’t you?” Máax asked.

Dammit! She sucked at lying. “Yes. But only so you’ll do what I want.”

“Try telling the truth, Cimil,” Máax growled.

But I suck at that, too.

Okay. Deep breath. Sell the story. Be the story.

Right.

“At some point in the future, the woman will act as a neutral party and defuse the tension between us. If she dies, no neutral party. And what’s a party without Switzerland? They make awesome cheese. Minky loves eating the holes.”

“I’m not going to risk my ass to save some woman simply because we had a little earthquake.”

“I’m telling you, Máax, it’s the apocalypse. And… make that two earthquakes,” Cimil said cheerfully just as the ground rumbled like a ravenous, subterranean beast. Once again, sirens blasted through the prison.

“I don’t give a shit!” Máax bellowed over the noise. “I refuse to do any more of your bidding. It always leads to trouble.”

True. Máax had, in fact, been doing a lot of bidding for her lately, but he had to attempt this one final task. Not only did her latest vision reveal that saving the woman was their last chance to put things back on course and avoid the apocalypse, but it was also Máax’s one shot at happiness. Why? Well, that was something he’d soon find out.

Okay, time for a new tactic. Speak to his extreme horniness. Poor guy is 70K and has never been kissed. Kind of like Drew Barrymore, but seven feet tall. And invisible. And naked. And a dude. Okay. Nothing like Drew Barrymore. Dammit, I can’t hear myself think!

“Roberto!” Cimil yelled. “Have someone turn that crap off, or I’ll start turning vampires into insects! And they won’t be cool ones, either! I’m talking pill bugs!”

Roberto signaled one of his men to the caged guard booth to address the noise, which he did by punching the communication console.

“Thank you, baby.” She blew a kiss to Roberto. “Máax, I’m telling the truth. You must go back and save this beautiful, smokin’ hot, young woman so she can fulfill her destiny. She needs you. You. You are the only one who can pull this off. So I’m asking, please save her? And hurry up with the answer because Roberto is about to bust a triple-stitch zipper if I don’t give him his Cimi-treat.”

Roberto crossed his arms and nodded with a pissed-off expression. “She hasn’t put out in months. I am so aroused that even you look enticing, Máax.”

Cimil burst with laughter. Roberto had made a joke. Not so easy for a five-thousand-year-old ex-pharaoh vampire. “Good one, honey. I’d high-five you, but that would be hard to do through the glass.”

“Perhaps we can have sex instead,” Roberto stated dryly.

“Through the glass?” she asked. That would be even more difficult, but if he was game to try, then so was she.

“I am able to open your cell, Cimil,” Roberto clarified.

“Not so kinky, but okay.” She winked. “Just as soon as Máax makes up that empty head of his.” Cimil held out both palms, mimicking a scale. “Save hot chick and humanity? Or be a sucky coward, and let us all die. Hmmm… decisions, decisions.”

“Precisely how does the pathetic mortal woman die, and how do I save her?” he asked.

Pathetic? Emotionally, he was a pre-Cretaceous amoeba compared to the woman. “Have no clue and ummm… no clue.”

“Why not? And why the fuck not?”

“They’re called visions,” she whispered, “not detailed instruction manuals to thwarting apocalyptic events.” Of course, even if she did know, she would never tell. Kinda ruins the challenge. But not like Máax could resist helping his brethren, or anyone for that matter. Helping others was his Achilles’ heel. Throw a little danger, risk, and rule breaking in there, and he was happier than an evil vampire with an ice-cream truck.

Máax chuckled like a chump. “Fuck it. I don’t have anything better to do.”

Ha! Knew it! Sucka!

“I assume you have another tablet?” he asked. “I will need two in order to travel there and back.” She knew Máax already possessed one tablet, which he’d snagged from that Spanish vampire slash incubus, Antonio, whom their sister Ixtab had hooked up with. As for the other he required, Cimil had a couple stashed away for this very occasion. The tablets were the size of small headstones, a few inches thick, and made of black jade—a rare material mined from caverns beneath the River of Tlaloc, a powerful river of energy that flowed between the human world and the deity realm. In short, a group of evil Mayan priests, known as the Maaskab, had discovered the supernatural material ages ago and learned to manipulate energy with it, mostly dark energy. It did all sorts of wonderful things such as blunt or neutralize a deity’s power or open portals to just about anywhere on Earth at any point in time.

Oh! I should go visit the dinosaurs again!

Really? Did you not learn your lesson last time? Poor, poor dinosaurs. All your fault…

Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

And clearing throat… “Of course I have a tablet! Roberto’s men will give it to you. Oh! And Máax?”

Get ready for one hell of a ride, my dear brother. The SS Ashli is about to disembark, and this voyage is going to make your bad boy, overbloated deity ego whimper like a sissy.

“Yes, Cimil?” Máax rumbled.

“Whatever you do, do not, and I repeat, do not, take the woman from her time. Do you understand? The woman must remain where she is and be allowed to age the old-fashioned way. No exceptions.”

“Do I want to ask why?” he asked.

“No, you do not, but I will tell you anyway. I’m in a gracious mood.” She took a deep, happy breath. “In order for events to play out precisely and stop us from going to war,. . .