Accidentally...Over?: Accidentally Yours 5 (8 page)

Because you’re invisible and were lucky enough to pass out on the side of the bed she doesn’t use.

Carefully, he edged off the bed, trying not to disturb her. Ashli rolled over and flung her arm over his chest.

Deorum inferorum.
Máax sucked in a deep breath.

“You smell so good,” she mumbled.

She talks in her sleep?
For some reason he found that adorable.

“What cologne is that?” she added.

His natural scent. All gods produced a pleasing aromatic cocktail of pheromones. He supposed it was nature’s subtle way of disarming humans, making it less likely for them to freak out and realize they were in the presence of something not quite human.

Ironically, he felt like the one being lulled by Ashli’s scent. He’d never smelled a more enticing fragrance:
tropical flowers mixed with a slight hint of those roasted chili peppers from her kitchen and fresh ocean air. Gods, the scent was just as exotic as the woman. Add to that, Ashli seemed to enjoy the ocean, his passion, as much as he did. If he could live his entire existence on the beach, he would. The air, the tropical breeze, the soft sand… there was nothing better than swimming in the waves or surfing when the opportunity arose, though it had been a very long time. Isn’t such a smart idea to surf when you’re invisible. A lone surfboard, carving a wave on its own, looks a bit strange. Nor was it smart to lay next to Ashli, enjoy the warmth of her touch while sniffing her hair, or allow himself to grow extremely aroused. Which he had.

Idiot.
What was the point? So he could remind himself what he was missing out on? Once this was all over, which it would be because he never failed, they’d both move on. Him to some cold, dark tomb probably buried somewhere in a remote swamp where no one would find him for a million years. And Ashli—she would find some nice human to spend her mortal days with.

Or perhaps one of your brothers.
After all, Cimil prophesied that twenty years from now, Ashli would broker peace between his brethren. That meant she’d meet them all. And Ashli was a catch, not to mention the one person on the planet destined to save them all. How? He had no clue. Yes, clearly the woman had her attributes—sexy as hell attributes—but aside from that, she seemed quite normal. Nevertheless, being savior of the planet would grant her instant celebrity status and boatloads of attention. She’d have men lining up around the block.

He balled his fists, then let go.
All for the best.
Because he didn’t want her.
Much.
And he certainly didn’t need
the distractions; this was one mission he couldn’t afford to fail.

He sighed and Ashli flinched. Máax lifted his head, ready to make a mad dash from the room if she woke up, but found himself entranced. Her plump lips and golden skin; her dark lashes, fanning along the crease of her catlike eyes; her hair a wild mass of thick black curls. He had no idea of her heritage, but never had there been a more seductive female in existence.

His eyes swept down the length of her small athletic frame covered only in a flimsy white sundress. Next to his large body, Ashli appeared more petite than she really was.

An urge to dominate her, to take her right there, sparked.

Or perhaps you’d enjoy the opposite.
Yes, he’d enjoy the feel of her lithe, lean figure straddling him, riding his cock.

Hell, man. That’s enough, you horny bastard.

“Fuck this,” he hissed and slipped quickly from the bed before he did something he regretted. Like kiss her.

Or motorboat her.

You randy bastard.

He needed to go for a swim. Yes, the ocean water would cool him down. The ocean always made him feel better, like being home.

Ashli’s eyes flew open when a gust of wind blew through the house. She sat up quickly, her eyes scanning the room, ears listening for any sounds. In the shadows of her mind, she feared the intruder would return. Had he?

She tensed, continuing to listen.

Nothing.

Perhaps she’d dreamed it.

She ran her hands over her tangled curls. With all the commotion this morning, she’d called Fernando to open the café. Then, while Luis handled things with the police, her head had begun spinning from the adrenaline, and she needed a moment to calm down. She’d crawled into bed but clearly dozed off, which was a stupid move considering the situation. She should’ve been on her guard, sharpening her kitchen knives or rounding up her garden tools. Something.

What if he’d returned while she’d been napping?

You’re an idiot, Ash. He’s not going to show up in the middle of the day.
And it was highly unlikely he’d come right back after he’d escaped only hours ago. That wouldn’t be logical. No.

She did, however, need to think about what to do tonight. She couldn’t stay in the house alone, could she?

You’re not letting some asshole run you from your home, Ash. What if they never catch him? Are you going to stay away forever?
She’d need to pay Luis a little extra for a while and have him keep a closer eye on her house. And she’d start asking around immediately if anyone had puppies for adoption. Yes, and she’d stop by the hardware store and buy a couple more shovels.

That bastard comes anywhere near me, he’ll get another taste of Mary’s lamb!
Thank goodness she’d left her giant shovel propped against the palm tree.

She slipped from bed and made her way down the hall, through the living room into her kitchen, feeling groggy as hell. The back door leading to the beach had been left
unlocked. Hadn’t she locked it? Then she noticed that scent again. It was sweet and spicy; she couldn’t put her finger on it. Where the heck was it coming from?

She sniffed her way back into the living room. Chills spread over her body when the smell became stronger with each step closer to her bedroom.

“Santa Maria.”
She stared at the giant indentation left on her bed next to where she’d been lying. She picked up the pillow and inhaled. The potent scent permeated her brain.

Wow. That smells so amaz—

Wait.

Her heart raced and a surge of icy, cold tingles violently exploded over her body. The dream. This was his smell from the dream.

Unable to hold her own weight, she sat on the bed hugging the pillow.

“Crap.” It wasn’t a man who’d been in her house. It was… Death.

He’s finally come for you, Ash. Just like you dreamed he would.

Shockingly, a dark, dark piece of her welcomed him.

Seven

The moment Máax submersed his body into the tepid, salty waves, that tightness in his chest and that carnal longing eased just enough to allow him to think again.

He didn’t know if it was the result of meeting his mate, centuries of near isolation, or being without a visible form, but the strange sensation deep within him seemed to be growing. It was a peculiar ache, like a hunger that only felt sated in the presence of Ashli. He hoped it would abate after this mission was over and his sister washed away any and all memories of Ashli from his mind. After all, undoing the past—well, his past—wasn’t exactly feasible, or better said, wasn’t what he wanted. Plainly put, if he were given the chance to repeat history, his history, he would. Just like right now. He would still be here trying to save this Ashli woman and the planet from its impending doom simply because it was the right thing to do. And perhaps, because a tiny piece of him believed that following his conscience would lead to salvation.

Some day.

But for now, he felt content knowing that each violation of the sacred laws had been for a worthy cause. For that, he was the outcast. For that, he was the one No One Speaks Of. Even his name was a symbol of his sacrifices. Máax literally meant “Who?” in Mayan. He’d been called it for so long that he sometimes forgot he once had another name: Maat, which meant “truth” or “justice” in Egyptian. They had been the first civilization to truly embrace the concept and named it after him. Of course, Cimil changed the historical records and made Maat a woman. “Truth has to be female because men are lying, cheating pigs!” she’d said. He supposed, at the time, it had something to do with Roberto, but whatever. He was Máax now, the god of… nothing. Invisible.

He dragged himself from the water and squeezed the saltwater from his long hair. He glanced down at his body and noted a film of fine sand and salt sticking to him. “Hell.” He didn’t normally swim during the day for this very reason. He hoped no one was watching.

Instantly sensing he was wildly wrong, he scanned the surroundings. “Fuck.” There, hiding in the brush was Ashli, her wild mane of long black curls blowing in the wind. She was looking right at him.

Her catlike eyes opened up like two giant hazel-green orbs before she popped up from her hiding place and started running for her life.

Bloody
infernum,
with her luck, she’s probably going to get run over by an ice cream truck.
He had to catch her before she hurt herself.

He sprinted after her, the powdery-soft, warm sand making it difficult to close the gap quickly. As he came up
the steep bank, Ashli came back into view. She reached for her back door, and everything happened in slow motion.

Ashli fell back, her head landing with a loud crack.

“Fuck. Not again!” Máax bolted to her side and crouched down. Blood flowed quickly from a gash on her head. “Dammit, woman. Why the hell do you always run from me?”

He pressed his hand over the wound to stop the flow. He needed to get her to a hospital.
Hell!
He’d need to reconnect her car battery and drive her there himself.

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

She reached up and touched his cheek. A wave of warmth crashed into him, snatching the breath from his lungs.

He couldn’t stop himself from wanting to feel more of her. Strangely, that gnawing hunger deep inside began to simultaneously quell and consume him.

He reached out with his other hand and palmed her cheek. “I am trying to save you, Ashli. Why won’t you let me?”

She smiled briefly before her eyes rolled into the back of her head.

Oh, hell.

Owww.

Ashli cracked open her eyes and found a bright white room.
I must be dead
. Well, at least the game of cat and mouse was over. What a relief. And with any luck, she might see her parents again. If she did, she only hoped they wouldn’t be upset about her dying.

Her spotty vision began to clear, and she eyed a poster on the wall. It said something about how boiled water is the safest for drinking.

Dumbass. You’re in the hospital.
Her eyes combed the room.

Yep. This was the small clinic that usually treated tourists for minor cuts and the occasional jellyfish sting. And holy Christ did her head hurt.

She slid her hand to the back of her head and gingerly kneaded the small bandage. A long IV tube hung from her other arm.