Accidentally in Love with…a God?(Accidentally Yours #1)(39)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

Tommaso gave Guy a discontented nod and waived over several guards to help unload the gear. Guy grunted contently. He was going to have to talk to Tommaso about minding his place, including his interactions with Emma. On second thought, he’d talk to Tommaso’s chief. Tommaso would receive a new assignment, perhaps taking glacial samples in the Sahara.

Guy quickly took stock of the compound, pleased by how it appeared untouched by the centuries. The compound was a villa built in the 1500’s—just the way Guy liked it. Light gray stone, wide-open courtyards, picturesque sitting gardens, and marble pillars; all the features human homes of this century didn’t boast unless the owners were aristocrats stuck in the past or drug dealers.

He’d selected this location specifically because of the statue in the central garden. It was of himself holding a raised sword.

A glorious work of art, he thought proudly. Rome was definitely built for the gods, and now it would be the perfect new home for his precious Payal. Here, the Uchben could protect her.

Chapter TWENTY-FOUR

I passed out cold during the drive from sheer exhaustion. Luckily, I didn’t have any haunting, violent dreams. In fact, I didn’t dream at all. There was so much testosterone in the car that no other male, human or otherwise, would dare come near. It was the deepest sleep I’d had in days.

I rolled over in the enormous bed, surveying the room. Had they hired the decorator from the Venetian in Vegas? It was way over the top. The room was the size of a small airplane hangar, complete with brilliant white marble floors, ornate crown moldings, and a domed ceiling with murals of stoic angels and fluffy white clouds. From where I sat, I could see through an arched doorway into a lavish gold-accented bathroom, which appeared to extend the length of a football field. I’d bet my hot Uchben guard that it had a shower for five, steam room for ten, and jet tub for an equal amount of people.

Off to the corner, there was a cozy sitting area near the front door, and to the side of that, a long formal dining table and an open, modern, gourmet chef’s kitchen complete with stainless steel appliances, several convection ovens, black granite countertops, and giant extractor over the gas-burner cook top.

I looked out the double glass doors to the side of the bed that led to a private walled-in garden. Guy was sitting just outside the doorway, his broad back to me, gazing up at the lavender, early-evening sky. His thick black waves of hair, veined with iridescent blue, cascaded over his shoulders. He truly looked like a mythological creature. Everything about him was larger than life: his size, his power, his arrogance and looks. Even his scent and vibe seemed other-worldly.

Without a doubt, he was a real live god and real god damned pain in the rear, but something about him felt so raw, so magnetic, so…familiar. Maybe because his voice—correction—he had played such a powerful role in my life. He was my constant obsession. My personal enigma.

So why had my feeling for him only grown into something infinitely more complex? The mystery of Guy was now solved. Sure, I still had many questions. Why was I able to hear his voice in my head when he was in the cenote, but not now? What did it really mean to be bonded? Why had he said my grandmother was special? What had happened to her?

Well, at least now I knew what he was and why we were connected. I was free from his mental chains.

Really, now. Then, why don’t you want to get away from him? Maybe because you just found out you’re not normal and never will be? True. Though, somehow I didn’t feel any different. I was still Emma Keane. And it wasn’t like I was a real god or anything. Although they were not what I’d expect gods to be like, they were clearly different from me. They were larger than life. They were powerful and fearless.

I started thinking about how I’d give anything for a day inside Guy’s head. What sorts of mysteries of the universe were in there? Where did he go when he wasn’t in the human world? Was his real living room a star in the sky? What was it like to watch people living, loving, hating, creating, growing old, and dying? Did it make him feel lonely, or was he indifferent?

“Looking for something to throw at me?” he said. He didn’t bother to turn around.

I ran my hands over my hair trying to gauge the state of frizz. “How’d you know?”

“I just do.”

“What else do you know?” I questioned.

“I know the rhythm of your pulse when you’re happy, how you breathe when you’re worried, how you’ve spent every second of your life. I know everything, except…” He paused, still not bothering to turn around.

“Except what? The color of my underwear?”

“Pink.”

He knew that too? “Lucky guess.”

“Not really. My men did your shopping. They talk.”

“Nice,” I said.

“Do you care for him?” he asked, his voice low and stark.

I shifted nervously on the bed. “Who?” I knew who he meant, but I needed a second to process. Sure, Tommaso was painfully attractive. Check that box. Strong and mysterious? Check those, too. But was there really something between us? He’d saved my life. Naturally I was extremely grateful. I even trusted him a little—something I couldn’t say for Guy.

However, while the insanely horrific events of the last week might be status quo for Guy and his “Uchi-pets,” they weren’t for me. It would take months to digest all this and peel away the layers of raw stress. So, I guess the truthful answer was I didn’t know; he simply felt like a lifeline to survival. I cared about him. In any case, I was definitely not going to mention the kiss. Guy would strangle Tommaso, or worse.

“Tommaso,” he answered. “There’s something between you two, isn’t there?”

“Let me think about that. Um—I’ve known him for all of three days. He held me prisoner—yes, on your behalf, but still—”

Guy turned in his chair to face me through the doorway. Gods, he was stunning. “He kissed you, didn’t he?” Guy asked like a possessive boyfriend. “I can still smell him on you.”

I felt a tiny rush of satisfaction from Guy’s jealousy, even though I knew it was an unreasonable response on my part. Besides, it wasn’t like Guy really wanted me. To him, I was just some object he felt belonged to him.

“It was just an impulse. And trust me, after I slapped him, I don’t think he’ll be coming back for more.”

Maybe I should want him; he might be good for me. “Besides, look at him,” I said. “He’s good looking, dedicated, well groomed—I’m sure I’m not his type.”