Accidentally…Cimil? (Accidentally Yours #4.5)(10)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

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The next week was unlike anything I’d ever experienced in my sixty-five thousand years. The pharaoh would come each evening after his bath, face meticulously shaved—an Egyptian obsession—his tanned skin and perfectly chiseled muscles gleaming with fragrant oils, his long black hair washed and braided. I began to wonder about the females who attended to him. Were they young and beautiful? Did they offer up their nubile bodies and provide him the pleasures of the flesh I could not? (Nipple tweaking, back waxing, deep pore cleansing.) My fists curled each time I visualized those little Tut-sluts massaging his enormous sarcophagus or playing with his treasure chest. My only consolation was that they were not getting what I had, his adoration.

We spent each night discussing the confines of our lives, the boundaries and expectations that created an invisible prison we could not escape. He would lie next to me and tell stories of his deceased mother and father, of his twenty-five siblings (all but five of them half-siblings) and how their one mission in life, when growing up, was to escape the watchful eye of their guards for a few precious moments of mischief and recreation. He spoke of how empty his life became the moment he realized his brothers and sisters would turn on him if given the chance to rule in his place.

I talked about my world, the souls I escorted, and of my brethren. I recounted my first memories of consciousness, vaguely realizing what I was, but not understanding the full weight of the eternal shackles binding me to the Universe.

We kissed and touched many times each night, only stopping when my energy became too intense for him or when I felt the need to recite a haiku. About a sea turtle. (Don’t ask.)

Each time he broke free, I saw the torment in his eyes. Not only was he denied his pleasure, but also his male ego did not enjoy leaving me wanting—it reminded me of the Home Shopping Network. Then he would fall asleep next to me, and I would drift off to the netherworld, hearing the voices of the dead laughing and howling as they played poker. I’d never felt closer or such an intimate connection with anyone in my entire life.

Heaven. He was my little slice of man-succulent heaven.

When Narmer entered on the seventh night, however, I knew something was wrong. He hadn’t had his usual bath, and his skin was covered with desert dirt and sweat. He paced across the room at the foot of the bed.

“What?” I asked.

“I cannot bear this any longer,” he growled.

“Bear what?”

His head snapped in my direction. “This!”

I rolled to my side and propped my head up on my arm. “Care to elaborate? Because if you’re tired of being in this room, then all you need to do is lift the spell. While you’re at it, you can remove my collar, too.” I shrugged. “Who knows, maybe I’ll find a way to show my gratitude.” I popped my index finger in my mouth and sucked in a suggestive manner.

Okay, so I couldn’t do that without setting the royal totem pole on fire, but the thought alone made me start to sweat. I wanted this man. I wanted him so badly that my toenails throbbed. But more importantly, I wanted to enjoy him every second I could get. He would die soon.

Don’t get me wrong, I’d thought about ways to help him, but the only means of saving a mortal was to take them to my world and saturate them with the light of the gods. I’d have to convince my brethren to allow this, and they hadn’t granted this gift in twenty thousand years. They were like stubborn children who didn’t want to share their candy. If I went against them, they would banish me forever. Or, at the very least, for a really, really, really, really, reallllllly long time. That said, I was almost ready to roll the dice and do it anyway. I simply wanted a sign. A teeny tiny sign that this was what I was supposed to do.

Narmer’s body visibly pulsed with tension. “I want you, Cimil. I want you very much. When I asked the gods for a queen, a true goddess, I hoped for a female I could respect. One who might be intelligent and powerful to help me rule, but you…” He marched over to the bed, his eyes sweeping over my stretched-out body. “You are all that and more. I would give anything to lie with you as a man lies with a woman.”

“Ah, sexual frustration. My constant companion.” I nodded my head knowing exactly how he felt. “But didn’t you say you had your secret friend working on a solution? By the way, you never told me his name, but I’d like to meet him; he’s got some pretty rockin’ juju. However, he is in need of a very long spanking for assisting you in your plot to capture me.”

I looked up at Narmer’s body. Every muscle quaked and trembled with agitation.

“Oh, my little love turnip is upset. Shall I meow for you?” I clawed the air.

“This is no joke, Cimil. I lost my temper today with one of my brothers. He and his followers have been positioning themselves for years, trying to raise an army to overthrow me. They say my dream of unifying our people is impossible, that I am mad!”

I shrugged. “Tell them to pound sand. There’s plenty of that around here—should keep ’em busy for a while.”

“I do not know this expression, but I assume you mean I should send them elsewhere.” Narmer dropped his head. “I should have done that, but I did not.”

Uh-oh. “What did you do?”

“I beat my brother in front of my entire council.”

That’s when I noticed his bloody knuckles. Ouch. “Is he alive?” ’Cause Narmer was huge. I mean, huuuuuge. I couldn’t imagine that many would survive a thumping from the king himself.

“Yes. But he has sworn his revenge. This is exactly the spark they hoped for. War is imminent.”

I felt the internal conflict bubbling in my chest. I wanted to tell Narmer to let his brother have the kingdom, to run away with me and enjoy what little time he had left. But I knew in my heart that my telling him the truth would create the opposite effect. Humans tended to spiral into a state of depression when they knew death neared. Narmer would spend his final days feeling defeated and miserable.

The only option was to kidnap him and petition the gods to make him immortal. “I will help you, Narmer, but you must free me,” I said.

He stared at me. “You will make the vow?”

What the hell? “We’re back to this again? Seriously, Narmer?” I popped up from the bed and got in his face—errr, well—chin. I got in his chin. He was really tall. “You stupid, arrogant, insane—”

He reached down and cupped the back of my head and pulled me into him for a deep, needy kiss. My body melted against his delicious male heat.