Accidentally…Cimil? (Accidentally Yours #4.5)(18)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

Narmer raised a brow, and I immediately sensed his jealousy.

Good. The more suffering, the better!

“Well,” he said calmly, “I suppose it would be unrealistic to expect you to remain alone all these years. Especially given how beautiful you are.”

Ugh. Did he think I’d be sitting by the phone—if we had phones—waiting for him to call? Idiot. “Let’s cut the crap, Narmer. The deal was thirty days in exchange for Minky.”

“Uh-uh-uha.” He wagged his finger. “The agreement was you must allow me the opportunity to understand the nature of my feelings for you—thirty days to learn why I am obsessed with you.”

“Which in your mind means… what?”

“We will make love. What else?”

“For thirty days?” I asked.

The man was off his immortal rocker. That said, this could be fun! “I will sleep with you one time, but only after you’ve satisfied my list of demands—”

“I said nothing about agreeing to a list.”

“Do you want to play bowling for Cimi or not?”

He stared, calmly mulling it over. “I agree to nothing, except for bowling—my invention, by the way—but let me hear your list.”

I snickered on the inside. “Nope. I will give you one task each day. If you complete the task successfully, you may return the next day for another. At the end of the thirty days, if you cross the finish line, then the big trophy is yours.”

He cocked one brow. “Mine.” It wasn’t a question.

I nodded. Ya. Like you’re ever going to succeed. “The whole enchilada, papi.”

“Your words continue to perplex me. You do mean sex. Yes?” he asked skeptically.

“Yeppers.”

“I sense your trickery, Cimil. No doubt you will not play fair and ask me to do something I find morally repugnant or that will land me in hot water with others, your brethren in particular.”

Hmmm… he’s on to me. “I promise that I will ask you to do many morally apprehensible things; however, I promise to only involve the two individuals standing right here. Three if you count Other-me.”

“Who is Other-me?” he asked.

“Don’t ask,” I replied. “The answer will only give you the uncontrollable urge to scream. Or send you into a crippling spiral of lusty fantasies involving twins. Redheaded twins. Point is, my terms are my terms. Take it or leave it.” Take it, take it, take it. I want to see you suffer…

Apprehension flickered in his dark eyes.

“What. Aren’t you a big bad Ancient One? Almost five thousand years old? What could I possibly dish that you cannot handle? Hmmm?”

He stared at me.

“Fine.” I flicked my wrist. “You may leave, then. I have a date tonight anyway. I think you might know him, your brother Philippe.” Philippe wasn’t his real name, but many vampires found it easier to go unnoticed by humans if they attempted to fit in. They often changed names, moved to another continent, and tried to keep their look fresh. In any case, Philippe was about as fresh and big and bad as they came. He was also the brother who’d tried to overthrow Narmer and who would later end up the leader of the evil vampires, better known as Obscuros. Philippe and I were close buds now. It went against my better judgment, so that had to be a good thing, I supposed.

Narmer growled. “Very well. Name the first challenge.”

I wanted to pull him in slowly. Make it easy at first. “I hate your name. It reminds me of painful memories. You will change it to… Barbara.”

He tilted his head.

“Okay. Rrrroberto.”

“Roberto?” he asked.

“No. I said, ‘Rrrroberto.’ ”

“Roberto. This is what I said.”

“No you have to rrrrroll the R,” I said.

“Ah yes.” He took a big breath. “Roooberto.” He smiled proudly. “There, you see. And now that we have that out of the way.” I blinked, and he had his thick arms wrapped around my body.

“Let me go!” I squirmed against his iron grip.

Damn, had he gotten stronger? Because I had the strength of twenty men. I knew this because I’d recently won a round of tug-of-war at the local watering hole. Got me a new horse and few pounds of gold, including one man’s tooth—he didn’t think I would win. Idiot. I always win!

I wiggled a hand free and gave Narmer—errr, Roooberto—a hard slap.

His dark eyes narrowed, and he pressed his lips to mine. They were firm and masculine and sent shock waves of need through my system.

No! No! I would not let him do this. I fell for his alpha-male bull crap once, but never again.

I lifted my knee and landed it right on the mark.

Roberto doubled over, groaning and cupping himself. “Arrrrr. What the saints did you do that for?”

He can roll his R’s!

I smiled. “That’s what happens to little boys who take without asking.”

“You kick little boys in their balls? You truly are evil,” he grunted.

“Wh-wha—no! I do not hit children! Oh, shut up.”

I grabbed him by the arm and shuffled him toward the door. “Out! Out you crusty, old pharaoh.”

I slammed the door behind him, knowing full well it would never deter him from returning, so I hoped he’d had enough for the evening. I sure as hell did.

I walked into my bedroom and pulled a mirror from the drawer to fix my makeup. I looked at my reflection and let out a slow breath. My pale face was flushed, my pupils dilated. Dammit. That man still had a grip over me.

“I don’t care what the consequences are; I must destroy him.”

Chapter Eight

The next evening, I made sure not to be at home, but in a place I knew Mr. Decapitator would easily find me. A place that would trigger a severe case of angst.

I watched Philippe, a lanky man with a straggly mop of black hair, pace across his lavishly furnished living room—velvety upholstery, gold inlay on all the wood, crystal chandelier. It was just as over the top as his clothing. He wore a burgundy tunic with blue piping on the sleeves along with white tights. Call me crazy, but I simply couldn’t get into the men-in-leggings look. Not hot.

Philippe scratched his unshaven chin. “And you are certain, Cimil, that the vampire queen will not come after us?” he asked.

I laughed and then popped up from my seat. “First”—I held out one finger—“I have found her a distraction. A male who is, shall I say, perfect for her in every way.” Yes, I believed I’d found her mate. How did I know? The dead of the future from the queen’s very own dungeon spoke of a man that would drive her mad with lust. This man went by the name Andrus Gray. It took me a while, but I tracked him down and arranged the events, sending them on a collision course. Once he was in her life, the queen would think of nothing but him. Philippe would be free to start picking apart her army, recruiting the best for his own cause.