Sun God Seeks…Surrogate? (Accidentally Yours #3)(63)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

Kinich emerged from his walk-in closet with a duffel bag in one hand and pile of clothes in the other, wearing a pair of soft, faded jeans. Although he appeared to have recovered from his penis sizzling, he was visibly not okay.

“What happened?” I asked.

He slipped on his trademark white linen shirt and quickly fastened the bottom two buttons. “I should have seen this coming,” he grumbled.

“What?”

He ignored me and slipped his clothes in the bag, mumbling about his dumb effing luck.

“Dammit, Kinich! What is going on?”

He froze and looked at me. “By some miracle—or sick twist of fate, considering it couldn’t have happened without the Maaskab’s dark powers—my soul has returned, but I am no longer as I was.”

“English for non-deities, please!”

He huffed. “My powers have remained inside you, and judging from the small burn I have on my penis—which has yet to heal—I am but a soul with a mortal shell.”

“What? You’re human?” I exclaimed. And would his penis eventually be okay? That was important.

“More or less.”

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“I believe the only way to know for certain is to die—an experiment I’m not willing to conduct at this juncture.”

“But how? How can that be possible? Fate said breaking the bond would put everything back.”

His brows furrowed. “No. She said it would send me back—to my mortal shell or to the cenote. She was correct, as was my brother Guy, who appropriately pointed out that the Maaskab’s dark powers are unpredictable—as demonstrated by my current situation.”

Oh great. Frigging fantastic, joy of all joys, lucky day, and whoop-de-do! I was still the Sun Goddess.

“This can’t be happening.”

He shoved more clothes in the bag and began collecting items from the nightstand. “It is done,” he said coldly.

“I don’t think so! I’m not getting stuck being the Sun God.”

“I can relate to your sentiment,” he replied.

I watched him cross the room, heading for the door.

I ran after him and grabbed his arm. “Where are you going?”

He stopped with his back to me. “I—I…there is something I must do.”

But of course. He’s waited his entire existence for this.

“I get it. You’re human now. You have what you want, so you’re leaving. To hell with all this! With me! That’s your answer.”

He turned and looked down at me, his eyes filled with a subtle rage. “Wrong. I planned to leave all along. As soon as I had my body back. Now I do.”

“But not until you slept with me first?”

“Of course,” he said bluntly.

I slapped him. “You pig! You never cared about me, did you?”

He didn’t flinch. “No. It is quite the opposite. I do not expect you to understand, Penelope.”

“Wow! What a way to show it. Leaving me to deal with your f**ked up life! I’m twenty-five! I can’t be the leader of the gods. I don’t have a clue about your world.”

“You underestimate yourself, Penelope. You were clearly born for this role. It is your destiny.”

Well, thank you, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Do I get a blue or green light saber?

“If you leave, Kinich. After everything that’s happened, everything I’ve been through—for you—if you leave…don’t expect to get me back.”

He stared with intense, emotionally charged eyes, but did not speak.

There was a jolting knock on the bedroom door. “Guys! We need you in the living room…Cimil is back.”

***

“I’m going to kill her,” I grumbled and quickly slipped on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt.

“No. That honor belongs to me,” Kinich countered.

I was about to remind him that he no longer had any powers, but thought better of it. He opened the bedroom door and charged off in the direction of the living room, and I followed close behind.

“I can’t believe the other gods don’t beat her up on a regular basis,” I said under my breath.

“We have become accustomed to her devious ways, but this is different—she abandoned her duties when we most needed her. We will not go light on her this time.”

We rounded the corner and found Cimil sitting in the armchair next to the flagstone coffee table. The other gods, Gabrán, Emma, and Brutus stood near her. From their body language—arms crossed, eyes narrowed—I surmised they were about to jump her and give her a good old-fashioned LA gang–style ass whopping.

As Kinich moved through the large, open room, Zac frowned at him then gave me a wink. I pretended not to see the gesture.

When I finally had a clear view of Cimil, I instantly knew something was wrong. She had dark circles under her eyes; her usually perfect bob was matted and unkempt. Her clothes—a plain, gray T-shirt and black leather pants—looked dirty. Definitely not her usual lively pink ensemble.

She stared straight ahead as if completely checked out. Well, that part was, I guess, pretty normal for her.

“Cimil has not spoken,” Bees instantly offered.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

The moment I spoke, Cimil’s eyes blinked and shifted toward me. “Oh. Penelope. It’s you,” her voice was muted and lacking its usual boisterous inflection.

“It’s me? It’s me? Is that all you have to say? For Christ’s sake, you drugged me! My mother has been taken by those Scabby things. And where the hell have you been?”

Cimil shrugged, “Where I always am: everywhere. Nowhere. Here and there.”

Kinich looked at me. “That means she’s been doing one of her garage sale marathons again.”

“Yep. That’s pretty much it,” she admitted.

I stepped around the coffee table. “You selfish, childish bitch!” Unexpectedly, a grapefruit-sized fireball burst from my palm and smacked Cimil squarely in the chest. The armchair, with Cimil in it, tipped backward. “Did I happen to mention that I’m now the Sun Goddess?”

A collective gasp swept across the room, then Belch rushed to Cimil’s side and poured red wine from his leather bota onto her smoking shirt.

Cimil’s tiny voice grumbled, “Of course, I know. That was the plan all along.”

“Bloody hell,” said Guy in his commanding baritone voice, “Kinich didn’t get his powers back?”