Accidentally…Evil? (Accidentally Yours #3.5)(9)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

Twenty Minutes Later

“I told you not to run.” Chaam wrapped her twisted ankle in strips of linen he’d made from tearing apart his shirt.

Maggie huffed, crossed her arms over her chest, and lay back in the hammock strung between two large trees near the campfire. “Well, what the deviled-ham sandwich did you expect? You hold me prisoner, tell me you’re going to rob me of my innocence—”

Hunched over her ankle, Chaam bucked. “I never. Ever. Said I would force you.”

“But you—”

“Woman, I merely stated the facts, and I will gladly state them again. I plan to be inside you tonight.” He leaned over her face, his breath hot and sweet in her nostrils, filling her with every erotic thought known to womankind. “But you will beg me for it,” he whispered.

She clamped her eyes shut. “Wh-why do you say those things?”

He brushed his fingertips over her lips. “I always speak the truth without shame or remorse. And with time, you will learn to do the same. Meanwhile, do you need to be reminded of the vision?”

She shook her head no.

“I think you do. I think you need to see our naked, sweat-slicked bodies twisting together like two hungry serpents, to see my hands gripping your h*ps as you straddle my cock.”

Maggie’s eyes flew open. How could he say such vulgar things? “I assure you I did not dream that. You’re a despicable monster.”

Chaam straightened his back, made a little bow, and gestured gallantly toward the jungle. “Very well. If this is your opinion, then you may go.”

Was this a trick? “What do you mean?”

“I’ll let you go.”

“Just like that?”

He nodded. “In exchange for a kiss.”

“Huh?”

He tsked at her. “Do not play stupid. That is my price. A kiss. Prove that you did not feel what I feel, that you did not see what I saw, and I will let you go.”

Oh hell! But she had seen it. She had! Ugh. This situation was insane. Think. Think. Think. She’d already kissed him once and survived with her wit and virtue intact. Yes, she could handle another.

“Fine. I’ll kiss you, then you’ll let me go,” she replied.

He yanked her from the hammock and held her so tightly that her toes dangled in the air. The sensation of their bodies pressed together, that warm, smooth, bare chest pressed against her palms, was intolerable. Tension, tension, so much delicious tension. Oh gods, she was about to sail that ship again.

This man didn’t fight fair.

She shot him a scowl. Oh! And he knows it! Every inch of that wickedly gorgeous face had male smugness written all over it.

“W-well,” she said, “what are you waiting for? Kiss me.”

He plunged to take his prize.

Chapter 4

This was not just a kiss. No. He would open himself to her, and she would know his torment, know the slow-burn ache of his loneliness. She would know his heart, soul, and mind. And then they would make love and uncover the bittersweet truth.

What would he do if she was his mate? Did it matter? Any way he looked at it, the situation was impossible. His world did not fit neatly with a mortal’s, and he could never turn his back on what he was. Yet, he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to move forward, from wanting to discover why fate had pulled them together. His lips slammed against Maggie’s, and his tongue thrust inside her mouth. Into her, he poured every raw ounce of unsated sexual hunger he’d endured. No more games.

Several hellacious moments slid by before her walls of superficial, manmade decency and righteousness crumbled. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him back. Hard. Needy. Uninhibited.

Yes…

His entire body instantly flooded with her light, which reached every corner of his soul. Holy hell, man. She has to be your mate. He did not need to make love to her to sense the powerful bond between them. But instead of it seeming like an insufferable fate, as he’d imagined it would, the connection filled him with quiet strength and a profound peace of mind. No matter what came next, he would find a way to be with her.

“Say you want me,” he panted between kisses.

Maggie peeled herself away and looked him in the eyes. “What are you?”

“Does it really matter, Margaret? You feel we are meant to be together, and I have waited my entire existence for you. You feel the truth, so say it. Say you want me.”

What could she say? Whatever he was, he’d just blown her ship deep into the swelling waves of uncharted waters. And that kiss! It was an ancient cyclone of nomadic wind that had journeyed across thousands of centuries, witnessing his life. Every exhilarating emotion and mundane thought, every beat of his neglected heart—she watched it all. She saw the faces of everyone he’d helped, his brethren, his foes. She felt his frustration for the role thrust upon him and the compulsion that kept him going even when he believed he might go mad if he lived another day as a god.

Oh lord! Her mind sputtered. It was as though she’d been living on a Wild West movie set and had suddenly decided to peer through the saloon window, only to find the real world just on the other side.

He was telling the truth. But how could gods exist without anyone knowing? The world was not at all what she’d believed.

A lifetime of manufactured façades crumbled at her feet, and in this new reality, each sliver of bone in her trembling body sang with the truth: She was born to be with him. This was why no other man had ever touched her heart. I’m not broken…

Maggie sighed. Yes, she wanted him. She would never breathe again without him. She would shrivel up and die this very instant without the rough touch of his hands on her bare skin, without knowing his lips intimately exploring her body, and without having him deep inside her. Every cell in Maggie’s body threatened to collapse if her body didn’t get its way.

“Yes,” she finally purred.

A twinge of wicked victory shaped his full, stubble-framed lips. “Yes, what?”

“You’re really going to make me say it?”

“Naturally.”

“I want you,” she said with her mouth, but her eyes boldly told him what was now in her heart and soul: the insane, magnanimous, epic truth that words could never articulate: She was his. At least, she sure the hell wanted to be.

“That wasn’t begging.”

“Don’t push it,” she hissed.

“I didn’t say you have to beg with words.”

He gently set her on the ground, steadying her on her good ankle. “Show me how you feel with your body.” He undid the top button of her dress.