Accidentally…Over? (Accidentally Yours #5)(10)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

Her body was suddenly on the gravel next to her car. The rocks were warm on her back and bare calves. Was she imagining all this? There was no one there. No one at all.

She watched a large rock float from the edge of her driveway and smash into her car window. The driver’s side door flew open.

She must be losing her mind, she thought as she blacked out completely.

Five

“You have got to be joking Máax!” Cimil barked. “That was, what, fifteen seconds?”

Roberto removed his hands from Cimil’s waist. “It was twelve seconds. Twelve. What exactly is your brother’s problem?”

Cimil sighed. “Please don’t tell me she died again. ’Cause this time, I might not laugh, and then where would you be? Huh? It would be just plain sad without my laughter.”

Máax pressed his palms to his temples and paced the floor in front of Cimil’s cell. “I left her alone for two minutes!” He didn’t think that a few f**king minutes would be a problem, but the moment he’d seen her strip off her clothes—those perfectly shaped golden-brown br**sts and rosy ni**les; the firm, smooth ass; and lean, long legs—well, he’d never seen a more delicious woman. He’d nearly given himself away when he turned and knocked her perfume bottle clear across the counter with his erection. Christ, he’d thought, I can’t very well spend the day like this, bumping my c**k into everything. After all, he wore no clothes. (What was the point? So humans could watch them miraculously float through the air?) So as soon as Ashli had left the bathroom, he decided he’d take care of business. Two minutes tops, he was ready to go off like a bolt of lightning. But before he knew it, he’d heard a strange sound coming from Ashli’s living room.

“What was it this time?” Roberto asked with a bored tone. “Did she fall off a cliff, trying to escape you?”

“No. A f**king bee. I gave her medicine, but it was too late. She never woke up.” If only he hadn’t had to waste time smashing the window, he probably could have saved her. Where the hell had he left her car keys?

“Dammit, Cimil,” Máax groaned. “What aren’t you telling me about this woman?” He could swear the Universe wanted to snub her out, which seriously pissed him off. Ashli belonged to him in theory, and it was his job to protect her. His.

Then there was the tiny detail of the Universe trying to take something that theoretically belonged to him. Not that he wanted Ashli. But nevertheless, where the hell did that bitch of a Universe get off trying to take something that belonged to him? Not that he would keep Ashli. Because he was a god. And didn’t need a mate. Especially when his destiny was carved in stone, because he was a man of honor and would never betray one of his brethren only to save himself. Even though they should never have put him in such a position to begin with. Not that he cared. He was tough. Tougher than all of them. Usually.

Cimil shrugged. “There’s not much to tell. Ashli dies—I can’t tell you how, because I don’t really know—and if you save her, she saves us all. Our pathway to peace. Wow!” She elbowed Roberto. “I sound like a poet.”

“Your voice”—Roberto gripped her chin and applied a long, wet kiss—“is always like poetry to me.”

The two began to maul each other again, tearing away their clothing.

Oh, sweet gods, make them stop! “Eh-hem. I hate to interrupt, but I cannot save a woman who is destined to die.”

Without detaching her lips, Cimil shooed Máax away.

“Cimil! In your own words, the clock is ticking! You must tell me what you know,” he demanded.

“She’s destined to live! Now go! You’re a deity. Figure it out!”

Máax groused profanities under his breath and returned to the conference room. What the hell was going on? Something strange, that was certain.

And how many times could he return to her and risk bumping into himself? Máax had always been cautious, never chancing overlaps, and careful not to alter the future in any detrimental way. But this was really pushing it.

He took a deep breath.

Options. Think options. Okay. She seemed to be accident-prone. So perhaps he could take her somewhere safe, somewhere with around-the-clock security. And medical supplies. And no traffic. Or bees. Hmmm… that might work.

He could have the Uchben watch over her business and home. But dammit, how would he convince her to go anywhere with him? He terrified her.

Dammit. Why was this getting so complicated?

Getting?

He gave it another moment of thought, scratching the whiskers on his chin. I will go back another week earlier—prior to her latest death. I will stay close to her, guard her at every moment, and learn more about her. Then, the night before she is to die from the bee sting, I will reveal myself and take her away.

But this time, he’d stay close, and never leave her for a moment.

January 18, 1993. Save Ashli. Take Three

Wearing her favorite yellow ducky pajamas, sipping a hot cup of coffee, Ashli stared at the calendar pinned to her kitchen wall. It had a photo of a chocolate lab puppy with a bow around its neck, sitting inside a basket. She’d always wanted a dog, but her hours at the café would leave the poor animal home alone all day.

Well, maybe after things settle into a quieter routine. Which is exactly what she hoped for.

Lately, she’d been feeling the effects of years of stressful living. Long workdays, not enough sleep, and little exercise were finally catching up, and she knew it. It was definitely time for a change, and she’d already taken the first step by hiring Fernando, but it wasn’t enough. That feeling, the sensation of dread, was growing stronger with each passing day. Has to be the stress. I need a day off.

Then there were the dreams. Vivid, disturbing, wild dreams. Some were of a faceless man and too erotic to admit she had. Then there were the ones of death hunting her, watching her. She’d been stung by a bee, hit by a bus, slipped on a banana peel—the list went on and on. Each time she’d wake up right at the point of dying, covered in sweat, the dream having felt so real that her body throbbed with pain and tingled with adrenaline.

Maybe it was time to start seeing that therapist again to address her lingering guilt; she’d never quite come to terms with being the only one who’d survived the accident. Yes, she thanked heaven or the universe or whomever had been watching over her that day for letting her live, but that didn’t mean she was without baggage. And working fourteen-hour days, seven days a week wasn’t helping.