Accidentally in Love with…a God?(Accidentally Yours #1)(45)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

“And your plans for her?”

Keep her. Maybe forever. And find a way to bed her. Yes, I’d definitely like that. “She will go home. We may, perhaps, even erase her memory, though I’m not sure it is possible. She’s got a lifetime of them with me.”

“Erase her memory?” He scratched his gray beard. “Oh. How unfortunate. I’d so hoped to study her.”

“Well, we’ll make the final call when we return from Mexico.”

“Yes. Yes, of course,” Xavier responded. “Well, in that case, could I have some time with her while she’s still here? Perhaps interview her?”

Guy nodded. “As long as she has no objections.”

“Good, it’s settled then. I’ll see you tomorrow. Will you be bringing the girl to the dinner?”

“I plan to, yes. She deserves a little fun,” Guy said.

“Good. I’ll introduce myself then.”

Guy nodded and reached for the door, pausing. “Xavier, one last thing,” he said, facing the door. “I’d like to learn how she was made.”

“Excuse me? Made?”

Guy took a deep breath. “Yes. How my brother, whichever one it was, managed to make a child. Specifically, sleep with a human.”

Xavier’s face blushed as he cleared his throat. “Um—I will let you know what we come across.”

“Naturally, this is not to be discussed with anyone, and all information should be brought to me first.”

“As is our protocol.” Xavier nodded and closed the door.

Chapter TWENTY- SEVEN

The next morning, I sprang out of Guy’s king sized bed, feeling like the previous day—all five of them, in fact—had been nothing but a nasty dream. Sadly, they weren’t. But at least now I had “options” with the new bond-breaking chant Tommaso gave me. Not that I would release Guy, because my life was on such shaky ground. But just knowing I could helped me see the light at the end of my surreal little tunnel. Thank you, “options.”

Wanting to see how they felt, I began trying on the possibilities as I meticulously brushed my teeth in the ostentatious bathroom. I could go with a pack of armed Uchben to retrieve my parents, take them somewhere safe—like Rome—tell them what happened, and live happily ever after. Maybe even go on a date with Tommaso to see how I really felt.

I rinsed and spit into the sink. Or, I can become an Uchben and fight Scabs—Emma the Exterminator. “Yeah, right. Emma the Delusional.”

I quickly showered, threw on my last clean outfit, jeans and yet another t-shirt and flip flops, wrangled my wet curls into a knot at the nape of my neck, then headed out the door. I expected to see a particular guard waiting for me, perhaps reading a book about the history of the Ninja or Armani. But instead of Tommaso, there were two blond men dressed in plain khaki cargoes, tee-shirts, and dark blue fleece vests. Old Navy warriors? I guess it worked. “Where’s Tommaso?”

The taller of the blond men shrugged. “I think he had some stuff he needed to do.”

Stuff?

“His chief asked us to fill in and take you shopping.”

“Shopping?” Usually, nothing brightened my day like shopping, but given the situation, that sounded mildly absurd; clothes just didn’t feel important anymore—except for the obvious reasons like modesty, warmth, and hiding the fact I’d gone two days without shaving. “I’m really not in the mood. Besides, I don’t have any money.”

As if I’d said something foolish and naïve, they both gave each other a look. “Not an issue,” said the taller blond. “Mr. Santiago will take care of everything and said to let you spend as much as you want.”

“Is this some strange consolation prize?”

“Sorry?” the taller man asked.

“Never mind. Let’s go.”

I caught a glimpse of a gun holstered underneath one of the men’s vests. “Won’t people be concerned if they see you wearing a gun?” I asked.

“That’s the point,” responded the taller man.

So true.

As we walked to the car, I got my very first glimpse of where we were. The compound was more like the Oxford campus, not that I’d been there, but there was a huge central courtyard, fountains, walkways filled with people going in every which direction, and dozens of gorgeous gray stone buildings that looked like pieces of old Italian castles. It was more like a small city.

“How many people live here?” I asked.

“Maybe a few hundred. Then there are the dorms for those staying for meetings and training. During the day we have another thousand or so who work here.”

“What do they all do?”

Again, both men looked at each other. Had I spoken Martian or duck? “What?” I said defensively.

“We’re surprised no one’s told you all this.”

Apparently, I hadn’t received my Uchben welcome package. “Sorry, I’ve been a little preoccupied since my arrival from the massacre at Guy’s villa.”

Both men suddenly looked solemn. Had any of the dead been their friends?

“Not to worry,” said the shorter man. “We’ve got all day. We’ll fill you in.”

They took me to a quaint little plaza tucked away from the center of the city in a quiet neighborhood. I begged them to drive by The Coliseum, but they insisted on keeping their heads attached to their bodies. Guy made it clear that would be the penalty for putting me in any danger.

In between buying shoes, clothes, make-up, and a really gorgeous, little black dress they said I needed for some dinner that night, the two men—Robert and Michael—explained all about the Uchben. Surprisingly, they held nothing back. I guessed because of my half-breed status.

The most shocking thing I learned was that the Uchben had existed for a thousand years or so, concealing their existence from the world, while most lived and worked in normal jobs. They were like some elite Rotary Club, except they had their own 401K, owned their own country—two actually, but they wouldn’t tell me which ones—and had their own army.

By the time we returned, two thousand dollars later, I’d learned all I ever wanted to know about the Uchben. But the answers I needed most were still missing. Did the Maaskab kill my grandmother like Guy said? And why did they want me? If I broke my bond with Guy, would I really be safe? Would my heart ever heal?

I opened the door to the suite, finding it empty, but I saw an envelope on the table by the door.

Dear Emma,

Do not be angry, my sweet. I care for you more than you could possibly imagine. Give me a chance to explain and make it up to you.