Vampires Need Not…Apply? (Accidentally Yours #4)(33)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

“Okay, then. Panties would be a great place to start.”

Chapter Dieciocho

The next morning, Ixtab entered Antonio’s quiet apartment and anxiously pressed her ear against the laboratory door. Despite what she’d said to Julie, apologizing wasn’t easy; although given her flair for mistakes, she considered herself an expert. Just as she might consider herself an expert at being cruel when she felt the recipient deserving. Yes, there had been a truth to what Antonio said. She had enjoyed his suffering on the day they’d met so perhaps she deserved his distrust and anger. She’d seen him as nothing more than a man floozy who looked like someone she’d once loved, and she had wanted to punish him for it. That was a mistake for which she now felt sorry.

Here goes nothing. She opened the door to his lab and found him sitting in his usual spot. “You don’t need to kill to drink blood, yanno. The bagged blood is donated by perfectly healthy living people who stay that way after leaving their deposit.” She held up a bag of blood. “Yummy. Yummy. O negative in my tummy.”

Antonio paused in his writing for a moment, but did not look up or acknowledge her presence.

“Boy, tough crowd tonight,” she said.

“It’s morning,” he grumbled.

“True. Did I ever tell you the one about the Spanish vampire physicist and the Goddess of Suicide who were tasked with unlocking a portal to another dimension in order to stop the destruction of the planet?”

He didn’t even crack a hint of a smile, but dammit if he didn’t look gorgeous. And not because he’d gone and showered or shaved or anything like that. Oh no. The man had a good centimeter of black stubble covering his angular jaw, his usual stylishly mussed hair was completely disheveled, and he’d removed his T-shirt and replaced it with a black apron that exposed his corded biceps and barely covered his well-formed pectorals.

Ixtab’s mind sputtered; he was simply too divine to be true. Gods, she couldn’t think or breathe or remember her damned name. How the hell would she be any use to him in this state?

“I’m waiting,” he said flatly, scribbling away.

“They were totally f**ked.”

His head snapped up, and he glared at her. “That wasn’t funny. Not even a little.”

“I’m the Goddess of Suicide. What do you expect?”

He chuckled and returned to his formula.

He laughed? It was a proud moment.

“So. Can I interest you in a bite?” she asked.

His eyes darted up, not completely reaching her face, then back to his writing again. “No thank you.”

Had he looked at her br**sts? She had worn her low-cut black dress that hugged her upper torso and then flared slightly at the hips. She’d also made sure to put on her shorter veil, the one that landed just below her shoulders, specifically to show off her newly elevated bustline. Not that the girls had sagged before, but this contraption she’d purchased scooped them up and pushed them together. “Men of this era really like intermammary sulcus?” she’d asked the fitting room clerk, thinking this fad had gone out in the 1700s.

The woman had simply stared.

“Yes, of course. That’s a silly question.” Ixtab rotated in the mirror viewing her curvy, five-foot-eight frame. “You don’t think it makes my br**sts look like a tiny butt?” Ixtab had asked.

The woman shook her head and assured Ixtab the garment would be worth every dime. She’d even convinced her to purchase matching pink, lacy “boy shorts,” insisting it was “all the rage with the men.” Ixtab still wasn’t sure why boys would want to wear pink lace or why men would wear the undergarments of boys when there was no room for their “man junk,” as she’d heard the youth called it nowadays.

Antonio’s eyes returned to Ixtab’s chest for a brief moment, as if he were struggling not to look, but couldn’t resist.

Oh. He did it again! Yippee!

Her joy then stumbled and tripped. Oh, pita chips. The clerk hadn’t told Ixtab what to do after the bra had done its job of attracting attention.

Maybe I am supposed to show him my br**sts? She suddenly wished she’d paid closer attention to the mating rituals of humans. Yes, yes, she understood the nitty-gritty basics; however, the finer details? It had seemed like a waste of time given the unlikeliness of ever having any nitty-gritty.

Hmmm… She’d seen a few movies where mortals pretended to talk about one thing, but were really talking about sex. Perhaps she should give that a go.

Clear throat, shoulders back, and… “You’re sure you’re not hungry?” She placed the bags on the table in front of him.

“I wouldn’t say that,” he said plainly.

“Perhaps a little taste might make you feel better.”

“No amount of blood will make me feel better,” he stated bleakly.

Okay. That didn’t work. Perhaps he missed the cues.

Or perhaps you should just show him your boys’ underwear?

Yes! She reached for her hem, then caught a glimpse of sadness flickering in his eyes. Oh, hell. Good job, goddess.

Abort seduction ploy. She mentally sighed. “What will?”

“Are you offering your help?” he said as if he secretly desired it.

His undertone of desperation clawed at her insides. Gods, it was the damnedest thing, but his despair suddenly felt like her own. And not only did she feel uncontrollably compelled to help him, she also felt something pulling them together. Could it be fate?

Yes. Perhaps this was fate—the good, universal, intelligent fate, of course. Not that horrible snooty, “too good for you” sister of hers. Could this crazy, strong, sophisticated man, tinged with a feral darkness and armed with razor-sharp intelligence, be the answer to her prayers? There was only one way to find out.

Show him your panties?

No, you idiot! Your heart. Show him your heart.

A rush of courage washed over her, compelling her to open up. “I’ve never told anyone this,” she blurted, “but I wear my veil as a punishment for the innocent lives I’ve taken.” There. I said it. “To be clear, I do everything in my power to save people, but I can’t stop killing a few by accident. Including someone I once cared very deeply for. I’ve never forgiven myself.”

He crossed his arms and studied her with his dark green eyes. “Why are you here, Ixtab?”

“Why do you want me here?” she asked.

“Who says I do?” He got up, stepped around the table, and took several steps toward her.