Accidentally…Cimil? (Accidentally Yours #4.5)(21)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

“So what if I did?” I walked over to the couch and sat with my back to him.

Just like all those millennia ago, he didn’t trust me. But if he’d bother to see me for who I was, he would know that I was loyal and good-hearted. There was a method to my evil, mad ways. Those ways forced me to do things I felt were wrong. It was slowly driving me insane, tearing me up, piece by piece, leaving me with only my faith to lean on. Even that was on its very last legs.

“I know you are evil, Cimil. Why do you think I waited so long to see you? I did not want to face the possibility that my heart might belong to someone so horrible and cruel. Someone who only seeks to counter all that I fight for. However, my cold heart wants what it wants. I had no choice but to accept my feelings and try to understand them. But believe me, I do not want to love you. Not when I know what you are or that my love cannot change a being like you.”

My head nearly swiveled off my neck. “This coming from the king of vampires? You think you’re better than me? You’ve killed thousands of people, innocent people.”

“In my early years, yes. I was reckless. But I have long since learned the errors of my way. I created the Pact to protect the innocent mortals from my kind. I created an army to fight my brother Philippe and the Obscuros. So you should not judge me, Cimil.”

Well, la-di-da! Look, I’m a supercool Ancient One who can do nice things and isn’t cursed with being the bringer of the apocalypse! “Well. Maybe you should not judge me.”

“How can I not?”

“If you bothered to look at what’s inside you—a piece of my actual soul—you might find your answer.”

Roberto left and a ton of emotional bricks came crashing down. Why did he have such a grip on me?

For the second time in my existence, I cried. And for the second time, Roberto was gone. I hoped for good.

Chapter Nine

The next day I packed my things from the town house. I would leave before sundown and try to finally move on with my life. Which, I realized, was something I hadn’t done.

I know I mentioned this before, but time isn’t the same for a deity as it is for a human. For us, a year feels like a second. A decade feels like a day—unless you’re trapped by a tribe of randy midgets in the Amazon, hell-bent on keeping you as a love slave because they believe you’re the Goddess of Eternal Pleasure. But I digress. Point is, although thousands of years had passed, my heart—the metaphorical one—hadn’t healed.

But now it would. It had to. After all, I had love matches to make and a world to save. Neither of which were going so well. Other-me remained, which meant I was still dead in the future, which meant I hadn’t accomplished squat. Probably because I wasn’t making any progress with my brethren. Not one of them had fallen in love.

Take my brother K’ak, for example. Although he was the quiet sort, he radiated with an internal strength the ladies adored. They couldn’t keep their hands off his long, flowing silver-streaked hair or that giant jade headdress he wore. So naturally, when I began my search for a mate, I looked for a woman who shared his love of jewels, knew how to wield a brush, and took comfort in silence. I visited every major city, every wealthy and powerful family, every brothel. I finally found the perfect woman for him, a gypsy with a full set of gold teeth. But sadly, she was human, so I planned to have her turned into a vampire once I confirmed K’ak’s interest. After all, humans and deities weren’t compatible physically. All went according to plan—K’ak was smitten; she was gaga over him—but the moment I had her vampirized, it fell apart. She became bitchy and demanding. K’ak dumped her after a week.

I tried the same experiment with Ah-Celiz, the God of Eclipses, and with Akna, the Goddess of Fertility; however, the results were the same. Once a human lost their humanity, my brethren lost interest. I seemed to be the only deity with a vampire fetish.

Well, as they say in Mexico, “Menos burros, más elotes.” Less donkeys means more corn. Yes, yes. In this analogy, I’m the ass, and the vampires are the corn.

Anyhoo, I needed to find another solution.

With my footmen on my heels and bags loaded onto the carriage, I stepped out my front door onto the bustling street filled with afternoon shoppers, merchants, and the usual hodgepodge of soldiers and beggars. But the moment the foul stench of humanity filled my nostrils, something triggered me to stop. There was a subtle sweetness lingering in the air. The smell of…

“Minky?” I whipped my head from side to side. A gentle neigh to my right caught my attention. “Minky! It’s you!” There, tied to a tree—of course, no one could see her but me—was my precious Minky. She was so beautiful. Gleaming white. Giant silver uni-horn. I darted over, but before I reached her, a man strolled by within an inch of the tree. She reached out with her soft little lips and chomped down on the base of his neck. Now, the moment she touched him, no one could see—thank the gods for that—but they sure as hell heard. The man screamed like a banshee.

“Minky! What are you doing?”

Unsure of what was happening or who was screaming, the people in the street scattered like chickens fleeing a fox. Except my footmen. They just stood there waiting. (I’d compelled them not to notice the bizarre and unusual, which surprisingly left them standing around quite often.) I tried to dislodge the man from Minky’s death grip, but there was a loud crunch as she bit down hard and then it was too late. Minky let the man drop to the ground and licked her bloody lips.

“Minky! What have you done?”

She looked at me with her giant lavender eyes and made a little shrug.

I am going to kill that vampire!

I turned toward my footmen. “Take my things. We’re not going anywhere.”

* * *

It took a week, but Narmer did return. Of course, I knew he would. There’s a little thing called stubbornness, and Narmer—errr—Roberto was the king.

Bastard pharaoh is going to pay for everything he’s done.

I know you’re thinking I still had the big picture to think about, but ironically, I’d landed exactly where I wanted to be. You see, killing him was what I wanted to do. But while that would have made me feel warm and fuzzy all over, it really wasn’t a just punishment. Long story short, given the “do the opposite” thing mandated by my deceased self from the future, I would have to let him live. When I thought about it, there was no sweeter justice than letting him continue, trapped in his dreary, little life, wondering why after thousands of years he could not forget me. Idiot. He had my light. He’d never be able to forget me. In fact, I planned to give his obsession a little boost. I would show him a slice of heaven and then snatch it away.