Accidentally...Evil? (Accidentally Yours) (3 page)

The speed of her nod was impeded by her shock. “Did you really just call me ‘love guppy’?”

He cringed. He’d try to sell her on ‘bobcat’ again later.

“Who are you?” She glowered.

“Not who. What.” Chaam released her. “I am a god. In fact, I believe I am
your
god.”

Maggie had no clue what was happening, but when the strange man kissed her lips it felt like her body had been tossed into a volcano of sin. Sin laced with chaos and the absolute certainty she’d never woken up from that horrific bump on her head.

The kiss made her see things, impossible things—him fighting alongside a swarm of savage men donning breastplates and swords, and later, sailing on a vessel from the days of Hernan Cortez. Whoever this man was, she hadn’t a clue, but the bizarre shower of images was incredibly detailed.

She shook her head, trying to reorganize the jumbled mess inside. “You really think you’re…
God
?”

His eyes flickered from turquoise to grey. Or had she imagined it?

“God? Good heavens, woman, no. I said ‘a god’—as in one of fourteen. I am the God of Male Virility.”

Great. Mr. Hallucinationinducing Perfectbottom thinks he’s the god of sexual prowess. That’s far less zany than believing he’s God.

“And you’re telling me there are more of you?” she asked.

“Yes. This is what I said,” he replied as if no one had ever questioned him. “Of course, every culture gives us different names—for example, the Egyptians called me Mir; the Greek, Eros; the Aztecs, Huehuecototl-Coyotlinahual.”

“Hewy, hewy what?”

He pushed his wide shoulders back and puffed out his broad chest. “Huehue is Nahuatl for ‘very old.’ I am a Bacab—one of the first gods to be created, which means I am also one of the most powerful.”

Suuure, Joe.
She began pinching her arm.
Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.

He placed his hand over hers. “Please do not do that. It is very disturbing.”

“Disturbing. I’m disturbing
you
?”

He raised one dark brow. “Yes. That is what I said.”

“But-gaaah-uhhhh.”

“Now, tell me what you are,” he said.

Her thoughts continued to stall and sputter like last year’s Model B Ford. “I—I told you, I’m Margret O’Hare. I’m here assisting my father who’s doing field research on the Mayans.”

Mr. Chaam dipped his head and stared deeply into her eyes, like a wolf sizing up its prey. “You are lying. I can see it. Why do you not trust me when you’ve seen the vision?”

The only thing Maggie trusted was that her marbles had gone on marble holiday to the marble Hamptons where they were sipping teeny tiny marble martinis.

“What vision? I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she lied once again.

“Fine.” He turned to leave. “If this is how you wish to proceed.”

“Where are you going?”
And why do I care?
She trotted behind him. Though he wore no shoes—
look at those feet. Are those little muscles on those toes?
—he moved swiftly over the pebble-covered shoreline. “Hey. I asked you a question.”

He abruptly stopped and turned. His intimidating height staggered her back. “I answer to no one,” he said. “And let us always be clear on this point: My kind gives the orders, and right now, I am ordering you to stay here and await my return.”

Yes. It was official. She’d hit her head and landed on Planet Pighead. And, “My kind”? Did he seriously believe he was a god? Then again that vision was…

She shook her head. “What is happening?”

Chaam took two wide steps forward and lifted her chin. “You are very cunning, Margaret O’Hare, but make no mistake, I am not the sort of god who enjoys playing games. When I return, you will tell me everything—who and what you are—then we shall spend the evening making love.”

Maggie’s knees knocked, nearly causing her to fall over. “We will do no such thing!”

He leaned down. “Fine,” his hot breath tickled her ear as he whispered, “then it will be hard, hot fucking. Your choice.”

Margaret gasped and stepped away. “What kind of woman do you think I am?”

A crooked smile leapt across his full lips. “The kind,” he said all too slowly with that rich, syrupy voice infused with sex, “who will enjoy all that I have to offer. In fact, I’ll wager that you’ll be begging me for it.” He glanced at his groin, which displayed the unmistakable outline of a rather large, slightly firmed penis.

Okay, maybe
—
What? Maggie!
“You’re disgusting. Never,” she replied to him. Or possibly to herself. Who knew what was what at this point?

Chaam laughed with a deep, soul-felt chuckle. “Such strong words from a woman who orgasmed from my touch. Maybe you require another taste?” He grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her hard. Just like before, her body coiled with tension, but he briskly released her before the wave of combustion took hold.

Regardless, she melted on the inside, becoming a lusty heap of loosely joined skin and bones.

He flashed a smug smile and continued down the shoreline with a victorious swagger. “Like you,” he called out, “I have no idea what the hell is going on, but unlike you, I’m wise enough not to question.” He stopped and looked at her with those piercing turquoise eyes. “I have suffered thousands of years watching others enjoy the exquisite delights of the flesh, and it is finally my turn. I will be inside you tonight, Margaret O’Hare. Fate has demanded it be so. You cannot fight fate.” He shrugged happily and continued walking away.

The moments ticked by before she scrounged up a coherent thought. “You’re a madman,” she screamed, “if you think Maggie O’Hare is going to stand here waiting for you to return!”

“I would never be so foolish,” he called out, not bothering to turn around or stop, “to underestimate a determined, headstrong woman such as yourself.” He snapped his fingers.

The black jaguar appeared from the brush at Maggie’s side. “Raaar?”

Oh, hell!

“Women.” Chuckling, Chaam shook his head and kicked a few pebbles into the water. Didn’t matter which species, they were all the same. Stubborn, petty, and stubborn.

And mine.
He stopped in his tracks.
Holy saints. Mine.
He still couldn’t believe it, but the vision clearly showed they were destined to make love tonight.
Thank the gods, but what does it all mean?

Perhaps, he supposed, she was the Creators’ reward for many millennia of hard work. Yes. Gods save him, but his existence was a tedious one. One that required he ensure everyone—excluding himself or the other gods—had sex. He was even obliged to help the animals. After all, if they did not propagate, humans certainly wouldn’t survive. But to make matters worse, his brethren held no respect for him. They called him His Holy Horndog and Deity of the Dick. Didn’t they know sex was the necessary ingredient to cement the bond between two souls?

The epiphany hit him hard.

Yes, that was it! The answer. He would make love to her tonight. If she was his mate, their souls would unite. He would feel the powerful connection.

So simple.

He smiled brightly until another thought, this one dismal, smacked him upside the head like a cold brick. Whether or not she was his mate, he realized he could not keep her. He simply had no way to do so. His bond with the universe compelled him to serve humanity. That meant he traveled years at a time to the most remote corners of the world, sometimes by foot or by horse. When he did not travel, he aided humans with less severe issues from the comfort of his realm.

Christ, the universe is so damned cruel.

Suddenly, he hoped she was not his mate; it was one thing to suffer an eternity hoping for her, but it would be an unfathomable torment to have found her and always be separated. He could not stomach the thought.

His heart sank into a deep, dark hole.

Yes, as painfully disappointing as it might be, he hoped she was simply a human immune to his touch. Or, perhaps, not human at all. In either case, he prayed she was a woman he could walk away from.

He rubbed his face with both hands.
Christ, you’re in deep shit.
He already knew that walking away from Maggie—mate or no mate—wasn’t likely to happen. He wanted to keep her.

All right, man. You’re a fucking deity. You’ve faced far worse, and you’ll figure this out.

Unfortunately, he had a few errands to complete—a confused bull who enjoyed making it with a bush, a cricket who favored ladybugs—so, so disturbing—and a twenty-year-old human male who had met his soul mate, but hyperventilated and passed out every time she came near. Yes, he would quickly do his magic and then gather supplies for his own magical evening with…

My woman.
Gods, he loved the sound of that.

For the first time in Chaam’s entire existence, he smiled a smile that touched his soul.

Maggie stood on the dock, swapping out two equally weighty emotions: fury and her old friend fear. Fury over being trapped by this madman and fear because her father was still missing.

Son of a biscuit!
This couldn’t be happening. At her mother’s funeral, she’d silently promised to whoever was up there listening that she’d take care of him. It was the one damned thing she’d sworn to do, a commitment she would finally keep. Yes, her past was littered with broken promises. Promises to the men she’d dated—to seriously consider their offers; promises she’d made to herself—to stop being afraid of commitment; but mostly, promises to her mother—to try harder and make something of her life. It wasn’t that she hadn’t cared or respected herself, but Maggie simply never understood the point to any of it. “Life is precious and fleeting, Margaret,” her mother would say. “Find your passion and the one thing you were born to do. Out of that, you’ll find happiness and bring joy to others.” Maggie simply didn’t believe she had anything special to give, so she absorbed herself in passing the time. But when she’d sat at the funeral, looking out across a sea of faces who’d adored her mother, Maggie finally got why trying mattered. But that didn’t make opening her heart to others, as her mother had done so freely, any easier. In fact, it was just the opposite. Now Maggie cared too much. And
that
was the reason she clung to her father. That was also the reason she couldn’t stomach letting anyone else in. It hurt too much to lose.

Yes, and because of this, you will never fall in love. You will never commit to a man. Face it: you were born broken.

Then why are you feeling so strongly for—

“Well, hellooo there, cutie pie!”

Gah!
Maggie jumped like a Mexican bean on the creaky dock. The tiny redhead had popped out of nowhere.

“You scared the lunch noodle out of me, lady.” Maggie clutched a fist over her heart. “Where did you come from?”

It registered that the woman was wet and nude.
Could this day become any stranger? Or more naked?

The crazed nudist wiggled her shoulders, “Obviously, I came out of the lake, sugar. Where else? Hey! Why are you on the dock, facing off with The Jungle Book? You must be a fan of anthropomorphic tales! Get it! Tales! Anthropomorphic!” The woman chortled and pointed at the gaggle of assorted animals now perched on the mouth of the dock—that enormous jaguar, a tiny furry pig of some sort, a black and white striped monkey, a bright green parrot, and, yes, to make the ensemble complete, a three-foot-long iguana.

Each time Maggie attempted to move in their direction, toward land or into the lake, the animals barked, hissed, and growled. Or snorted. Lots of snorting from the little pig thing.

Like she’d thought, could the day possibly get any stranger? And yes, anthropomorphic?

“To answer your second ridiculous question,” said the redhead, “of course I know I’m naked. Really now, who wears clothes when they’re in a lake? That would be just weird. Fish don’t wear clothes, do they? On second thought!” She cackled and then doubled over. “That would be so cute! I love the idea. I’ll have Sven, my tailor, make a bunch of miniature tuxedos. Boom! Fish-edos!”

The woman is out of her ever-loving, nudist screwball mind.

Well, crazy or not, Maggie needed help. She had to get off that dock before the man with those excessively large muscles and hot, mind-altering kisses returned. Maggie’s drawers could only take so much before they’d disintegrate, her virtue and sanity right along with them.

The odd woman’s laughter took a sudden nosedive and crashed. “Hey,” she whispered, looking over both shoulders, “did you happen to see my brother? He’s about yea so tall.” She reached for the sky on her tippy toes.

That’s when Maggie also noticed the woman’s glowing turquoise eyes.

Heavens to Betsy, she’s his sister?
It made sense. So much goddamned sense.

Maggie pointed south down the shoreline. “He went thataway.”

“Fabulous!” The screwball sauntered past Maggie toward the critters, who shrank back.

This was Maggie’s chance. She took two steps forward, but the woman turned.

“Uh-uh-uhhhh,” she sang out, wagging her pale index finger at Maggie. “You’re staying put.”

“But, you can’t leave me here.”

The woman hee-hawed like a broken donkey. “Oh yes I can, sugar. Because this is your stage and you’re the star of the show. The catalyst. The spark. The
fizzzz
in the Gin Fizzy. Ain’t no party without you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t have time to explain, doll, but trust me, you and I are going to have loads of time to catch up later.”

“Huh?” said Maggie.

“You’ll see. And don’t forget, when the time comes, be sure to follow Chaam. He’s your secret sauce.”

“Sauce?”

“You know. The bom in your bomb-bomp-bom-bomp, the ram in your rama-lama-ding-dong.”

The word
screwball
wouldn’t do. No. Not at all.

“Ta ta!” The woman waved her hand and skipped down the shore. “And don’t forget,” she called out, “humankind will thank you later!”

Bat-shit crazy. Yes, that’s it.

Three hours later