Accidentally…Cimil? (Accidentally Yours #4.5)(4)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

Chapter Two

(Yep. Still in 3000 BC.)

Well. Not what I was expecting from the king. I felt my left eye tick with anger. Had this… man, this lowly mortal commanded me to strip and get into his bed? Me?

And… is he really, really showing me his scepter? Don’t get me wrong, I was more than pleased to learn I floated the pharaoh’s feluccas, but frankly, I expected more of a challenge. This guy was ready to show me his treasure, and all I had to do was walk through the door. What happened to his vow of celibacy? Darn it. Easy men are no fun!

I suppose it will be equally fun teaching him a bit of humility. Clearly he’d never had to work for a woman’s affection. Clearly his sense of reality was grossly distorted by his gilded cage. Clearly he had no idea who he was dealing with: The most powerful deity in the universe. One who claimed souls just for kicks and spoke to the dead. I saw the future, the past, and the present through their eyes. I’d mastered the power of the River of Tlaloc! Dammit. I had a godsdamned unicorn! Yet he thought he could command me like a two-camel whore?

But did you see his beast-sized penis?

I shrugged. “Okay!” I shed my robe and hopped onto his bed.

He stared with a peculiar grin.

“What? You were expecting me to cower?” I patted the space to my side. “I’m waiting.”

“Well, I—uhhh…” He tilted his head. “You are a very peculiar goddess. From where did you come?”

Good frigging question. “Where did you come from?”

He lifted his chin and crossed his arms over his brawny chest. “You are not in a position to ask questions of me, woman.”

“I’m not?”

His eye twitched with anger. “That was another question.”

“So is this. Ready? What’s the difference between a hooker and a crack dealer?” Oh, he was so going to love this!

“My patience wears thin, woman. You will cease speaking in tongues and asking questions!”

“The hooker can wash her crack and sell it again!” I burst out laughing and rolled onto my stomach, using one of his pillows—Ooh. Soft!—to mop up the tears pouring from my face. Gods, I hadn’t had this good of a chuckle for a few decades. This feels fantastic.

The pharaoh flipped me over. “You dare mock me? I do not care what you are, I will have you whipped if you do not curb your tongue, woman.”

My chuckle died as I considered grabbing that giant penis of his and giving it a little twist and shout.

No, that would be unfair. His penis has done nothing wrong.

Yet. But one can certainly hope!

I stared into the depths of his pupils, the light of the small lamp flickering in his eyes. And that’s when I saw it.

“Holy camel shit!” I scrambled away and jumped off the bed, placing my back against the stone wall. “What the hell?” I couldn’t begin to articulate what I’d seen. Him, me, the birth of the Universe, the death of everything. Happiness. Destruction. Light. Darkness. All possibilities simultaneously existing on the tip of a needle. One point in time deciding everyone’s fate.

“Who are you?” I blinked and stared at his deeply tanned face. His high cheekbones and full lips were exquisitely masculine, and his thick black brows only accentuated the man’s natural ferocity.

He marched over, chest heaving with livid thoughts. “I am a king. Your king. Bow down before me and vow your loyalty.” His giant bicep bulged as he pointed to the floor. “Bow!” he screamed.

For the first time in my existence, I didn’t know what to do. My mind was a blank. A mortal—an arrogant, sexy mortal—had ordered me to grovel, and all I could think of was…

Nothing? No revenge. No lighting his hair on fire. No humiliating or snarky comments. Nothing. Well, except that I had the overwhelming urge to grovel. Maybe suck one of those gorgeous, golden-brown toes while down there.

Gasp! I want to please him? Make him happy? Yes. I longed for lazy-lover weekends of braiding each other’s hair and slow roasting tiny, succulent creatures over an open fire while reciting poetry about figs and jam. Okay. Who the hell was I kidding? I wanted to hump like eager bunnies until the wee hours of the morning. In fact, I’d do just about anything for it!

Double gasp!

No one controls Cimil! No one! I have to get the hell out of here! I darted for the door, slammed right into an invisible wall, and fell flat on my back.

Multicolored lights blocked my vision. “What the f**k?” I rubbed my temples.

The man stood over me—yes, yes. Still naked. Gloriously naked. And frowning. “I do not know this word f**k you use,” he said, “but I assume you are referring to the doorway.” He smiled wickedly.

Yes and no. I sat up, feeling the room spin, and in that instant, the man placed a cool, hard object, a collar of sorts, around my neck. It clicked as he clasped it.

Okay. Not the time for gifting, a-hole. “You’re delusional if you think a crappy piece of…” I looked down and saw the edge of the thick collar. It was made from several pieces of polished black stone. “A crappy piece of rock is going to appease me.” I hopped up and faced off with the large mortal. “And what the hell did you do to the exit?” For the record, there was nothing but open air in that doorway, yet when I’d tried to pass, it had felt like I’d hit a steel wall.

He grinned with deep satisfaction. “I do not answer to you. But know this, you are not leaving this chamber until you submit and vow your loyalty.”

What the…? Okay. Now I’m pissed. “Look, you snotty piece of mortal bull crap, I answer to no one. I grovel to no one. And I am not going to braid your hair. Even if you managed to get me a pet sea turtle. Which I would love. But still… it’s not happening.” I poked him in the chest, which was conveniently located at eye level since I was only about five feet tall. “I am the Goddess Cimil. Ruler of the Underworld. I have powers you’ve never dreamed of. So open that door, or I will suck the soul from that gorgeous bag of bones you call a body and personally deliver it to the fires of hell, where you will burn for eternity.”

Okay. For the record, I was pretty sure he didn’t know the word hell, but I’m sure he got the point. And there really was no official underworld, so to speak; once the dead crossed over from this world, they hung out in this other dimension until ready for their lights to be recycled back into the cosmos. Some hung out for a really long time—awesome game of poker going down, around the clock—others jumped right back into the cosmic soup for another spin in a people suit. I knew one guy who’d done five hundred laps as a goat herder, each time falling off a cliff while taking a nap. Talk about destined to repeat your mistakes! Somebody get that guy a rope!