Sun God Seeks…Surrogate? (Accidentally Yours #3)(51)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

I was about to, but then my guilty manners kicked in.

Oh no! I hadn’t got them anything. My mind scrambled. I had some Tic Tacs in my purse, but they were almost gone. Well, hopefully they were fans of the “it’s the thought that counts” rule because they would have to share.

I cleared my throat. “Um. Are these for me? You really shouldn’t have.”

The man in the middle, whom I’d not had a good look at yet, rose with his right arm crossed over his broad chest, his hand fisted over his heart. He wore a black tee and well-fitted black leather pants—seemed like the standard-issue uniform for the men in this social circle—and like the other males in the family, he had to be pushing seven feet in height. His thick, loose waves of black hair hung well past his shoulders, and his arctic-blue eyes were an icy contrast to his milk chocolate skin.

Really? Seriously? Can these deities possibly be any better looking? It seemed unfair given they also had preternatural powers and immortality.

“I am Zac Cimi, Bacab of the North. As our tradition dictates, we honor you with gifts, Sun Goddess.”

I sighed like a thirteen-year-old meeting her favorite teen idol. Regardless of where my heart was committed, my inner horn-dog was captivated.

Pen! Snap out of it. He just called you “Sun Goddess.”

Right. I’m on it!

“This is for Kinich,” I realized. “Phew! I thought you’d all gone on some grack bender and were kneeling for me.”

Zac’s eyes shifted side to side. His handsome face, with uncharacteristically exquisite cheekbones and thick, black lashes, looked troubled. “No. You now hold Kinich’s power. Therefore, you are the ruler of the House of the Gods.”

“Sorry?” My eyes bulged from my head. “House of what?” I looked at my boots. “Kinich, this has to be some mistake. Please tell me what to say.”

He grumbled, “Penelope. Just accept graciously.”

“But—”

“I have been the ruler of the House of the Gods for over half my existence. But it is only because the sun is the source of all life. You now house me; ergo, you now rule the gods until we are separated.”

“Uh-uh. No. Nein. Nix. Nyet. Not gonna happen.”

“Penelopeeee,” Kinich snarled a warning.

“But what about water and oxygen? Aren’t those equally important to life? Or…chocolate? Chocolate is powerful. Especially dark chocolate—it has antioxidants. Isn’t there a god for that?”

“No, Penelope. It doesn’t work that way.”

Oh no. I wasn’t going for this. Not at all.

I pointed to the woman in the black veil. “What does she do? Can’t she take over?”

She shot daggers with her eyes—at least I thought she did; it was hard to tell with the veil over her face.

“Okay, maybe not her.” I pointed to the lady in the short, white dress who’d presented me with antlers. “How about She-Ra, there? At least she’s got fun taste in clothes.”

The veiled woman in black sprung from her knees and stepped forward. “Oh for heaven’s sake. Not this same old crap! I am the Goddess of Suicide. What do you expect me to wear? A hula skirt and beer helmet?”

Goddess of Suicide? Yikes. And I’d thought waiting tables sucked. Her job is way worse.

A pudgy god—the one who presented the bota and wore several—six?—himself, with unkempt, plain brown hair, and wearing a green Puma running suit, chimed in, “Yaaaa. Gooood one. I like hulas and beer helmets,” he slurred.

Was he drunk?

The suicide lady rolled her eyes. “Shut it, Belch.” Her veiled eyes swept the room. “Why must we go through this every summit? Anyone else want to take a shot at the sad, sad, depressing lady?” She held out her arms and pivoted back and forth, looking at the others.

Everyone ignored her.

“Just kill me now. Please?” She whispered acerbically to no one in particular.

“I’m really sorry,” I blurted. “I didn’t mean it. Your goth look is a classic.” I did a little pump with my fist in the air. “Go Bela,” I said quietly. “I meant Lugosi. Not the Twilight Bella.”

The gods regarded me with blank expressions.

This was not going well.

“Look everyone.” Half of the gods still knelt. “Please, get up. This is so wrong.” I looked over at the door and was about to call Emma and Guy to my aid, but they were gone. “Oh. Come on! Can’t you two keep your hands off each other for two seconds?” I called out.

The gods looked at each other with confusion before casting their glances at me.

“I’m leaving now,” I said. “I can’t accept your lovely, and such…”—don’t look at the dead rat, don’t look at the dead rat—“inspirational gifts.” I began to back away. “Just…” I made little waves with my hands. “Pick a new interim leader. Okay?”

I turned to leave, but She-Ra—the one in the white dress with the bow and arrow—latched onto my hand, sending waves of painful tingles through my arm. “No, Penelope. You will lead the summit tomorrow. It must be you.”

I snapped my arm away. “Thank you. I really, appreciate the offer. But I’m not—”

I drew a blank as my eyes met with hers. Like Zac, her eyes were nearly translucent with a splash of sky blue. I was instantly mesmerized.

“Penelope? What’s going on?” asked Kinich.

“Umm…I…”

“Dammit. Your human form is still susceptible. Penelope, listen to my voice. Listen hard. Listen only to me.”

I’m listening, I’m listening, I wanted to say, but couldn’t.

He continued, “You are immune to the powers of the gods; their scents, their commands, and the influences of their energies. You will listen to only me.”

I shut my eyes and noticed my head had cleared. When I reopened them, the She-Ra woman with flowing golden hair, still stared.

She smiled. “I do not care what Kinich is telling you, I have spoken on this matter.”

“Who are you?”

She dipped her head. “I am Camaxtli, Goddess of the Hunt.”

Well that explained the antler gift and the Outback Steakhouse-meets-J.Lo outfit.

“I am also known as, Irsirra, Legba Fon, Dola, and many others. You may call me Fate.” She smiled and walked away.

Irsalegafondola-what? Her name sounded like a hippie love child gone wrong. “Kudos on the smorga-horror of names, lady, but I’m not doing it.”