Sun God Seeks…Surrogate? (Accidentally Yours #3)(40)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

“Tell me what happened,” he ordered me.

The young woman elbowed him. “Let’s help her off the floor and explain who we are before barking commands, honey.”

He grunted and shot a look at Gabrán, who then help me onto the couch in the corner of the room.

“I am Guy Santiago, Kinich’s brother. This is my fiancée, Emma.”

I nodded, knowing exactly who they were. This was the god who was going to marry the Payal.

I made a sad, little, wave-like gesture. “Penelope.”

Gabrán spoke up immediately and began retelling the story of the Maaskab and Kinich, leaving the part about my spontaneous combustion until the end.

Emma turned to me. “What were you thinking about the moment it happened?”

I blinked.

Okay, maybe this was like being at the doctor. As embarrassing as it might feel, I had to answer the question openly and hope the experts would know what to do with the information. “If you must know, I’d been thinking about how badly I wanted to sleep with Kinich.”

There was a low, stifled chuckle from Guy and Gabrán.

“He’s a total hotty, that’s for sure.” Emma cracked a smile.

“What?” Guy said. “You have desires for my brother?”

Emma patted him on the cheek. “Baby, that was a little joke. Get it, ‘hotty.’ He’s the Sun God?” Guy kept glaring. “Oh, you’re so cute when you’re jealous,” she said. “Or, is it scary? I’m not sure. But in any case, you know that no one stacks up to you.”

Her exaggerated reassurance seemed to placate the beast of a man.

“Sorry, Penelope,” Emma said, “I meant, what were you thinking about the moment you felt your body heat up?”

Oh. That. “About the monsters who took my mother and attacked Kinich—can we talk about that later?” I was not ready to face the truth about what was going on with me personally. There were much, much bigger issues at play.

And yes. Denying reality was a gift. So sue me.

I glanced at Kinich’s immobile body. “Do you know what’s wrong with him? How to help him?”

Guy ignored my questions. “Bastards. I’ll kill every last one of them.”

“Stop,” Emma warned. “Let’s leave the revenge until later.”

“I can’t help myself.” Guy began pacing. “The Maaskab have obviously been honing their weapons against us. Look at him. Kinich is completely useless to us like this.”

Then they both stared at me as if they expected me to say or do something.

“What? Aren’t you going to help him?” I asked.

“The thing is,” Emma explained, “we don’t know what to do. The Uchben have already searched their databases, and we’ve checked with the other gods—”

“Except Cimil,” Guy interrupted.

“Yes. Except Cimil, who’s MIA,” Emma added.

“Has something happened to her?” I asked. Half of me hoped the answer was yes. I knew revenge was a four-letter word, and I should rise above the desire to see her suffer, but…Come! On! The woman so deserved a little pain. Like being thrown in a pit of angry vipers. Or perhaps shoved in a rocket filled with vile, tiny, green men who had horrible flatulence, then shot off into space where she would be forced to watch them pick their noses and scratch themselves all day long.

On second thought, Cimil might enjoy that.

“Cimil has a nasty habit of disappearing when she’s needed most,” Guy stated coldly.

Emma nodded. “I’m sure she’s fine. But Kinich”—she regarded him with sadness—“The only idea we’ve come up with is to…um…”

The three exchanged glances. “What?” I asked.

Guy spoke up, “Kill him. So his light is returned to the cenote.”

“Are you people—deities—or…partial deities—whatever—crazy? You can’t do that,” I argued.

“Exactly,” Guy said. “We are immortal. He cannot be killed.”

I moved between Guy and Kinich. “You said you have no idea what’s the matter with him. What if you’re wrong?”

Gabrán chimed in, “The girl has a point.”

Without warning, Emma—who stood near the foot of the bed—whipped out a large Buck knife from the waistband of her pink yoga pants—Christ!—and made a small cut across the top of Kinich’s exposed foot.

I shrieked at the sight of blood pooling in the gash. “Why did you do that?”

She ignored my question and stared at Kinich’s wound. After a moment, the blood dribbled to the tile floor. She shook her head.

“Tis nae healing,” Gabrán declared. “The girl is right. Whatever the Maaskab have done to the man, may have changed the rules.”

“You keep assuming I’m part of your club and get what the hell you’re talking about.” I felt seriously panicked and was not giving a crappity-crap if I offended anyone at this point.

“A god would heal in seconds from a cut that size,” Gabrán explained. “’Tis possible he’s been changed somehow.”

“Which means?” I asked.

Guy answered, “We will have to keep searching for a way to undo this dark magic.”

“How long will that take?”

“Anywhere from a few weeks to a few decades, if we are lucky.”

***

After everyone left Kinich’s room in a heated debate, I slumped down on the bed next to him.

“Dammit, Kinich.” I brushed his caramel locks back from his forehead. “What’s happened to you? What’s happened to me?” He was freezing, and I was boiling like a lobster.

I plopped my head down on his chest. “Where are you?”

“Right here. Why are you crying?” Kinich suddenly sat up as if he’d had the most refreshing nap ever.

His surreal, turquoise eyes stared back at me with a twinkle, and his lips were pursed with a sneaky little grin.

“Kinich!” I yelped and threw myself on him. “You’re awake! Oh my God!” I couldn’t help but cry again—this time with the utmost relief.

I buried my face in his chest. It was warm again. Oh so warm.

His hand stroked the back of my head, following the length of my hair. “Sssh. Sssh. Do not cry, Penelope. Everything is fine.”

He peeled me off his chest. “No more crying. Please.” He wiped the tears from beneath my eyes.