“Ow. What was that for?” he asked.
“You spent the night with my sister?” she growled. “Which one? Fate?”
She had a sore spot for her sister, did she? He made a mental note—could come in handy later. “Your sister Cimil, actually. We spent a very… interesting evening in Mexico together when I found the tablet.” Yes, it had been interesting. And by interesting, he meant disturbing. She continually rambled on and on about the understated joy of treasure hunting at garage sales. Then she froze in midsentence and made little circles with her hips as if spinning an invisible Hula-Hoop. He juddered.
“Oh. Cimil.” Ixtab’s killer heel grip relaxed.
Apparently she didn’t see Cimil as a threat. Another mental note.
After several minutes of marching down the narrow path lined with thick-leaved plants and small torches, they arrived at an arched entryway with a wrought iron gate. He set the goddess down and tried to ignore how she felt when she slid down his back.
He pulled out his sheet of paper and punched in the code. The gate unlatched, and he pushed. Inside was a lush garden, spacious courtyard with an illuminated fountain, small fire pit, and soft music playing—Spanish guitar—from hidden speakers. He approached the elaborate stained glass front door and entered. It reminded him of his family’s beach home back in Spain. Warm sandstone-colored tile, wide-open living room leading out to what appeared to be a long torch-lit dock, and an indoor fire pit in the middle of the room with a giant stainless steel extractor. The muggy tropical air wasn’t the least bit cold, but the fire looked warm and inviting nonetheless.
Antonio glanced over his shoulder at Ixtab. Weather, weather, weather. Think weather. Think of the woman in your dreams. Think stars and moon. Think of anything but Ixtab’s smell… “The bedrooms look to be in that direction if you’d like to freshen up.” He nodded to her right.
“Thanks.” She sauntered away but toward the door leading to the dock instead. She slipped her dress over her head, offering him another glimpse of that perfect ass and the unveiled waves of long dark hair flowing down her back.
He sucked in a breath. “Ay, mujer. Que picosa.” This time he looked without shame, drooling over her tanned, perfectly shaped ass and lavishing many impure thoughts upon it. Thoughts involving warm oils and his hands. He made a little groan as she disappeared outside, then adjusted himself. Yes, thank the gods for leather pants and triple stitching.
* * *
Why is it, that moments of profound clarity—epiphanies, if you will—come at the most inopportune times? The ride to the villa had been one of those, and now Ixtab needed to think. Really, really think.
She sprinted toward the sanctuary of the cool lake water she’d swum in since she was a mere sprig of goddess one human year old.
The coolness of the fresh water instantly refreshed her bare skin, but she wished it could do more than wash away the stale scent of the cenote on her body. So many years she’d lived. So many damned years watching people evolve. They lived, they loved, they felt pain and triumph, they failed and succeeded. Then they died. The irony was that watching the humans live their lives and the world evolve didn’t make her feel like a part of it. To the contrary, she felt left behind. An outsider. Completely alone. Ultimately, like her brethren, she simply stopped evolving and growing as a living being. What was the point? There was no one to share it with.
One might think having thirteen brothers and sisters for eternity might provide some form of comfort for this. She couldn’t quite call this a life, now could she? During the drive to the villa she realized that “siblings” or not—they weren’t truly related, after all—her seventy thousand years of existence didn’t come close to offering the same amount of joy one human being experienced in a single lifetime because she didn’t have love. Not true love. Not from a man who saw her soul, her light—ominous thunderclouds and rainbows included—and loved her for who she truly was. Thinking about Antonio offering himself to her as part of that stupid prank had made her realize that.
Her head broke through the water’s glassy surface, and she stared up at the stars and the full moon. She sighed and glanced longingly toward the dock of the villa. Creator almighty, she felt drawn to that male, but she didn’t want one night. She didn’t want just sex, even though the newborn possibility of this intrigued her. No. She wanted more. She wanted to be hit over the head in love. She wanted to evolve. She wanted to grow up and then grow old with someone. She wanted to know she was the center of someone’s universe. She wanted… a real life.
Just once. Just once. Just once.
The revelation stunned her. Perhaps because she’d spent an eternity burying these desires. Perhaps because she had spent the last two hundred years punishing herself for Francisco’s death, believing he’d been the one for her. But had he been? What she felt for Antonio was so very, very different. With Francisco, she felt drawn to him, yes. She admired how he held the dying in his arms and showed them selfless compassion. His kindness was what she loved. However, Antonio… Deep breath. Her feeling left her mind and body spinning in a state of utter chaos. She craved him completely. He made her want all of those crazy things she’d never have: love, family, a life together… All of them impossible for someone like her, a goddess who trafficked dark energy.
If only she could change.
You?
Piff! Yeah, right. That’s like asking a skunk to stop stinking. Her role was her role and that was that. It didn’t matter how sad she felt about it.
Then another epiphany hit her like six tons of immortal bricks. Perhaps that was why Antonio was really there: to offer a chance. To prove you are capable of compassion and good, to open the portal and help put the Universe back on its feet. Perhaps he is your… catalyst for change.
“Is he my… spark?” she said quietly under her breath. Why else would the Universe create a man whose destiny was to become a vampire—hearty enough to withstand my touch—who looked like the mortal she once loved. Why else would the Universe throw them into this situation?
No, the thought was silly. The Universe didn’t care about her, she was merely its slave. A slave without the right to hope for anything. Yet she did. Making her a fool. A simple, lonely fool. The resentment threatened to consume her.
She ducked under the water and swam and swam and swam until her humanlike body demanded oxygen, causing her to break the surface.
“Ixtab!” she heard Antonio call, his voice echoing from across the calm waters of the lake. Oh, how she loved the sound of him saying her name. “Ixtab!” he called out again. “Where’d you go?”
She released a long, slow breath and swam toward the dock, the darkness concealing her from his view. “I’m here, vampire. And you are to refer to me as Oh Divine One or have you forgotten?”
He dropped a towel on the dock, grunted, and stormed back inside.
I know how you feel…
* * *
Ixtab toweled off and found one of the many well-appointed bathrooms, each furnished with the opulent luxury only the infamous Niccolo DiConti would obsess over. She showered with scented soaps and fruity lavender shampoo, and then blow-dried her waist-length hair, all the while thinking about Antonio and how badly she wanted her assumptions to be true.
And the only way to find out is to speak with him, openly and honestly. Yes, she was not a child. She was a grown goddess, thousands of years old and afraid of nothing.
She entered the attached bedroom—a modern, luxurious suite with the large vampire-sized bed covered with down pillows and white silky sheets. Laid out were several shopping bags. She opened them up and found black dresses and a veil and… a pair of black lace panties?
Penelope must’ve purchased these, because no way had the vampire gone out shopping, but what had Penelope been thinking? Ixtab held up the panties and inspected the miniscule scrap of fabric with curiosity. “How can anyone claim these are underpants?” She threw them over her shoulder. “Might as well go commanda.”<
br />
She shrugged on a dress similar to the one she’d worn earlier, only this one was a bit shorter, cutting off right above the knees. Once again, the veil was a sheer, silky black and came down to her chin, not nearly long enough to cover her thick, waist-length tresses.
A heavenly, chocolaty smell saturated her nose, capturing her attention. My favorite dish! Deities didn’t need to eat, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t drop her panties—if she’d worn any—for a chocolate caramel soufflé.
Ixtab found her way to the kitchen and her eyes locked on a shirtless Antonio standing behind the chef’s island among an explosion of mixing bowls and flour. The air whooshed from her lungs as she took in all of his muscled male glory—arms, chest, and neck lightly dusted with cocoa powder.
His olive-green eyes flickered with the unmistakable look of… hunger?
He then grumbled and dropped to his knees. All but his thick head of dark, messy hair disappeared behind the chef’s island. “Ready for the ritual to commence, goddess?” he growled.
She snickered. Oh, this groveling would be the death of his poor male ego. Good. That’ll teach the beautiful man to crack my neck. He should learn to be more gentle.
Even though she’d already forgiven him. “You may rise, Antonio,” she conceded.
She blinked and he was standing again.
“Ah. I see you are beginning to master your speed,” she said.
His eyes set firmly on her. “But not my strength, so you might want to avoid standing behind me. Or anywhere near me.”
That wasn’t what she wanted. At all. In fact, far too much time had passed since she’d touched him and now the craving gnawed at her.
Barefoot, she sauntered over, cleared a small spot on the counter, jumped up, and took a seat. “You’ll have to be more careful then, won’t you?” she said, facing him directly.
He shook his head and crossed his brawny arms over his perfect chest. Ixtab ogled him shamelessly. His skin—smooth, firm, and tan—with endless cords of muscles looked so inviting. Yes, it had been far too long since she’d touched him. She ached for that euphoric pulse of energy rushing through her veins. She realized how truly addicted to him she’d become, but somehow, that only excited her all the more. She loved the feeling of their powerful connection.
“I want to touch you,” she whispered. She could’ve simply done it without saying a word, but she needed to know if he craved her touch, too.
Towering over her, his gaze turned from hungry to downright carnivorous. He stepped a little closer and dropped his arms to his sides. The invitation sent her pulse soaring.
Slowly she reached out and ran the tips of her fingers over his collarbone, luxuriating in the feel of him as he watched.
“Why does your touch do that to me?” he asked as if astonished, pleased, and suspicious all at once.
She snapped back her hand, but he caught it in his, waiting for his answer, piercing her with his deep green eyes. She couldn’t speak being this close to him, touching him. Smelling him was better than she’d remembered. Was it possible he’d become more desirable?
“Wh-what d-does it do to you?” she stuttered.
He slowly took her hand and laid it flat over his heart, his gaze never breaking from her obscured face. “It does all sorts of things.”
Ixtab’s head swirled. “L-l-like”—she swallowed—“wh-what?”
“It feels like a warm fire igniting in my veins,” he said in a low, deep voice. “It fills me and yet leaves me hungry, wanting more. And it does…” Still holding her hand to his warm chest, he stepped nearer and pressed his lower torso against her closed legs. “This.”
Ixtab made a little jerk and gasped as she felt his warm, hard cock against her knees.
Her heart began to thump wildly in her chest, and the heat rushed into her belly, continuing deeper. Oh, gods, she wanted him to part her legs and slide himself between her thighs. Her body lit up knowing that the only thing between them would be a pair of leather pants.
He brushed his warm fingertips over her collarbone, as she’d done to him. Oh, gods, she could feel his hot breath on her skin. She wanted him to touch every inch of her body.
He licked his lips and slid his hand through her curtain of hair and caressed the curve of her bare neck. “Your lips,” he whispered, and bent his head just a little farther so that his mouth was directly over her ear, “were so soft and warm when I kissed them.”
He’d kissed her? “When?” she asked, barely unable to keep from panting.
“While you were out cold, before you disappeared on me,” he said softly, seductively.
She shuddered as her body pulsed and throbbed in the most delicious places. Had he looked at her face, too? “What else did you see?”
Still cupping the side of her neck, he moved his other hand under her veil and began stroking her lips. “Just these.” He lightly nuzzled his face against hers before placing his hand over her chin. “And this.” Then down the front of her neck. Was he trying to drive her mad? “I want to see the rest.”
Take off her veil? Let him see her face?
Yes. She wanted this, too, she realized. She wanted him to see her. She needed him to gaze into her eyes and see her soul, to know if he might accept her for who she truly was.
This is it.
He gripped the edge of the fabric and began to pull.
The alarm buzzed behind him, and she suddenly jerked away from him.
His eyes instantly filled with irritation, and he stepped back, breaking their contact.
Oh no. Did he think she was rejecting him? “Antonio, I-I…”
He turned away and shut off the alarm. “I’ve set up your… your toe-worship station in the living room,” he grumbled.
Toe-worship station? Penelope and Kinich had really gone overboard with the groveling instructions.
“Antonio, I want to—”
“I’m an idiot,” he hissed under his breath.
“What? No, I—”
“I’ll be there shortly,” he said coldly.
Why wouldn’t he let her explain? Because if he did, he’d hear how his touch was the best thing she’d ever experienced. He’d hear how she wanted more, but simply needed a moment to work up the courage to take off her veil. Because it wasn’t just a veil; it was her armor, her penance, her way of thwarting the undeserved admiration of others.
“Very well, vampire.” She left the room feeling mildly deflated. Gods, she was so bad at this whole intimacy thing! She completely came apart around him like a total fool!
She wondered down the hall to the opulent living room, her mind spinning. She needed him to listen, to know her story: why she hid her face, how he looked exactly like Francisco, and how he could touch her when no one else could. She would tell him how he filled her with hope.
But how did one start such a conversation with a…
Damned stubborn, bossy vampire! She huffed. Didn’t he know how hard this was for her? She had no experience with intimacy, physical or otherwise; it was completely unknown to her.
She rounded the corner into the living room and nearly tripped. A freshly lit log crackled in the fire pit, and white candles sprinkled every corner of the room with warm, flickering light. A pile of neatly folded, white, fluffy towels had been stacked next to an overstuffed armchair placed near the fire, along with a steaming metal tub of water that beckoned to her feet.
He’d done all this for her? None of this had been on the list.
Okay. Breathe. Breathe. You’re a goddess. You can make him listen. You are strong. You are strong. You are… so lame! Stop acting like a child.
She sat in the chair and carefully dipped her toes in the water. The smell of roses instantly penetrated her nostrils, and she threw back her head. Every woman should be given the gift of immortal groveling. At least once a year. And with a man like Antonio—fiercely masculine and obscenely handsome. Who is completely peeved at you!
“Enjoying yourself?”
&n
bsp; Ixtab looked up, but didn’t see anyone.
“Down here, Oh Divine One,” Antonio said petulantly.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, call me Ixtab.”
“Yes, Ixtab,” he said with a slow, deliberate pronunciation of each letter of her name and then flashed a fiercely carnal look her way.
She swooned right then and there. How could she say anything coherent when he looked at her that way?
She swallowed. “Antonio, I know you don’t trust me, and I keep making a huge mess of everything, but I-I…” She fumbled with her words and tugged at her neckline. It was getting very hot in there.
Without breaking his raw gaze, he dipped his head, fished her feet from the tub, and pushed it aside. He wrapped the left foot in a warm, soft towel and firmly grasped the right. “Close your eyes.”
“No. Wait,” she protested. “You don’t need to do this…” Her words trailed off as she became lost again in the sensation of his touch. Her nails dug into the padded arms of the chair. His hot, rough hands gently stroked her heel, but it felt as though he stroked her entire body. Is this why so many human women get pedicures! Wow. Have I been missing out.
“Close your eyes. Relax,” he repeated briskly. This time she noticed his low, scratchy voice. Ummm. There was that itch again.
“I don’t want to close my eyes. I want to…” Oh, gods, that feels incredible. What was I saying?
“Whatever pleases you,” he said coldly, his strong fingers began gently working each toe. Oh, this was too much. Not only was he touching her, but also the sensuality of his hands was a sultry bliss. She stared down at his bare chest with its chiseled definition, the firelight behind him illuminating his muscular biceps—large biceps that flexed while his hands caressed and massaged her foot. The sight of him was more erotic than she could bear.
An unintentional groan escaped her mouth.
Antonio froze and looked up at her veiled face.
Dammit. She was making a fool of herself. He’d been tricked into this groveling scheme, forced to touch her. That’s not what she wanted. She wanted real. She wanted… him.