Vampires Need Not…Apply? (Accidentally Yours #4)(32)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

Julie laughed. “Wisdom is gained through trial and error, and you haven’t had experience with either. Not when it comes to men, anyway.”

“I must be making up for lost time—not that I want ‘experience’ with an egotistical, whiny, icky vampire.” Lie, lie, lie. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean you. You’re not icky. Neither is Kinich. I suppose Viktor and Helena are pretty nice, too, now that I think about it. But the rest…” She made a sour face under her veil. “Icky.”

“So you find Antonio…‘icky’?” Julie asked.

Ixtab sighed. No. Not in the least. I find him intriguing and irresistible. In an icky sort of way. Of course, I don’t appreciate him treating me so rudely. That’s a little uncalled for. Maybe. “Actually, I think I like him.”

Julie smiled. “Oh, Ixtab. That’s wonderful.”

Ixtab sighed. “No. It’s not. He hates me for having him turned into a vampire. And the ironic part is that he’s the only creature on the face of the planet I can touch. He’s immune to me. Even more ironic is that he’s the spitting image of the man I once loved and killed.” How odd. Confessing this dreary little fact about Francisco wasn’t nearly as hard as the time she’d told Kinich. Of course, she’d never told him the gory details.

“Interesting,” Julie replied with a little too much levity. “Sounds like fate playing its hand.”

Ixtab hissed.

“Oh, not your sister Fate, but divine fate—it’s much more precise and intelligent. Not that I don’t like your sister.”

Ixtab shrugged. “Wouldn’t care if you didn’t. She’s no friend of mine.” Neither is Antonio—which I don’t get. Can’t he see I saved his life? Twice? “You think we’d at least get along.”

“I never had any sisters, but perhaps if you spoke to her,” Julie said.

“I meant Antonio. But Fate…? The only thing that could induce me to forgive her would be her public admission of being a complete fraud and jackass. Even then, I still might need to see her suffer in a volcano for a few thousand years.”

“Whatever she did must’ve been pretty bad,” Julie said.

“Ruthless is more like it. The one thing I’ve learned is that nothing is forever, including being the Goddess of Suicide. A rotation of powers will come, and then we’ll have to see where the chips fall. Until then, I get the chair with the pointy ni**les. I get to taste and feel humanity’s darkest moments. I get to be hated by egocentric, brainy vampires.”

Julie looked out past the horizon. “He doesn’t hate you, Ixtab. If he did, you would not be foolish enough to have feelings for him. Love doesn’t work that way.”

Whoa there! “Who said anything about love? I’m strangely attracted to him in a highly irrational, addictive, euphoric sorta way, where I might possibly cease to exist if I never see him again, which is the textbook definition of lust. Not love. Besides, he made it clear he doesn’t wish to see me again.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t mean it,” Julie argued. “He’s been through a lot, and now he’s got the weight of the world on his shoulders.”

“Actually, that’s his enormous ego,” Ixtab replied. “Have you seen the size of that sucker?” Ixtab spread her arms to demonstrate. “Needs its own blinking lights and Wide Load sign.”

Julie smiled like a first-grade teacher with an MBA in patience. “Is it really that? Or is he simply a man who’s been drawn into a difficult situation and needs your help, your compassion? Look at all he’s been through.”

Damned angels. Always so, so, so… right!

“I want to show him compassion, trust me. If you only heard the things he said, you’d understand that the situation isn’t salvageable. He truly, truly hates me. Perhaps deservingly so.”

Julie chuckled. “Then ask yourself why he rejected Fate’s help repeatedly and demanded you instead.”

Oh. “He rejected her?”

Julie nodded. “She tried all night to convince him to work with her—he is quite the catch, you know—but when he said no, she was so miffed, she stormed out and hasn’t returned.”

Maybe he rejected her because he wanted to torture me. He admitted as much.

Ah, but he did “respond”—clears throat—to you, so maybe she has a point. Ixtab’s stomach fluttered with joy, recalling his very masculine response to their bodies touching.

Piff. Probably some vampire hormonal reaction. After all, vampires were notorious for their prolific erections. He’d probably get excited if a cucumber salad looked at him the wrong way. Vegetarian vampire! Really? Who ever heard such ridiculousness!

Ixtab smiled under her veil. Actually, the thought of him sucking down carrot juice made him that much more attractive. He wasn’t a killer like she was. “All right. What do I do?”

Julie shrugged. “You’re the deity; take the high road and apologize for whatever it is you’ve done. I’m sure you’ve had plenty of practice with that over seventy thousand years.”

That would be a resounding yes. Especially if one happened to be referring to the unintentional slaying of beloved pets.

“Okay. I’ll do it. How do I look?” she asked Julie and held out the flowing hem of her very drapey dress.

“Um… um. You look very… mysterious?”

“Excellent!” Better than morbid.

“I did not mean the good kind of mysterious,” Julie said politely.

“You didn’t?”

“Have you considered a new look?” she asked.

No. Not at all. The clothes kept the world safe; they reminded Ixtab to always be careful and prevented people from getting too close. The “freaky” factor to her look was critical. “What did you have in mind?” Ixtab asked.

“How about something a little more modern? More revealing perhaps?”

“I don’t think I’m ready to give up the veil.”

“Then take one step and change something else.” Julie’s eyes swept over the dress.

Ixtab pondered the advice. “I supposed I could buy something new once the stores open—I’ve always wanted to try some of those undergarments I see humans wear.”

Julie lifted a brow. “You’ve never worn underwear? Or a bra?”

She wasn’t human, so her body didn’t really sweat or get dirty in an underwear sort of way. And her br**sts were eternally perfect. The only reason she’d have to wear undergarments would be to please a man, which had never really been a part of the equation. “No. I go commanda.”