“Give me a minute, big guy.” The agent complained, and when Enlil forced his legs aside, he groused even further and shook his head. “Jeesh.”
Candy removed her headphones and touched the side of Enlil’s leg before he disappeared. He flinched, ignoring her, and fled quickly down the aisle.
“Are you okay?” she called, following his lurching progress. When he didn’t respond, Candy turned worried eyes to Gramps. “Do you think he’s all right?” She couldn’t figure out what was happening.
“Looks to me like he’s about to be sick.” Gramps wrinkled his nose. “Hope it’s not catching.”
“Gods can’t catch things,” she hissed under her breath. She’d heard the goddesses mention that they wouldn’t have to worry about their babies contracting illnesses. She poked her seatmate again. “What else could it be?”
“Air sickness?” Gramps gave a guess. “But he would have known about that and packed some motion-sickness medicine, right?”
“This is his first time on a plane,” Candy informed him, looking back to where Enlil disappeared into the restroom.
Gramps snorted. “Who knew? I would have figured that as old as these guys are, they would have flown with Leonardo da Vinci…or at least the Wright brothers.” He chortled at his own wit. “Not worried.” Gramps settled back down. “Enlil’s a big boy. He’ll barf, then he’ll feel better.”
It happened to the best of them, but Candy still felt twisted up about it. She had to find out for herself what was going on.
She shouldered her small day pack and twisted past Gramps, only to be caught as she aimed for the aisle.
“Guys don’t like it when women watch them being pussies,” he told her. “Let the dude hurl in peace, Candy. He won’t thank you for catching him in a bad moment.”
“But there could be a problem, Gramps.” She worried her bottom lip. “I’m not sure Enlil knows how to puke. If gods don’t catch things or have food allergies, they’re probably never sick.” Could a god aspirate his own vomit and die? Candy didn’t know. At least her comment made Gramps let go, and he agreed that maybe she should have a peek.
Easing around her fellow agent, she quickly sprinted down the aisle, gaining the attention of the rest of her team who, she gathered, would quickly get the story from Gramps.
“Enlil.” Candy rapped her knuckles on the door. “Enlil, it’s Candy. Open the door.”
“Busy, Candy. Go away.” Enlil’s voice didn’t sound spiteful or sharp. Not normal. It worried her even more.
“Open up,” she tried again. “I want to help.”
“No help. Please.” He moaned.
“Enlil, I mean it. Let me in, or I’m going to flash my badge where everyone can see it and kick the god-damned door down.” She’d do it if she had to, and she hoped Enlil wouldn’t underestimate her determination. Thank the gods. He scrabbled with the lock and the door opened a crack.
“Fine. Come in. But I’m about to be sick.” He stood, pressed tightly against one wall, his face a shade of green Candy had never seen before. She squeezed in and closed the door behind her.
“You have to kneel down in front of the toilet,” Candy urged. “If you try to puke from a standing position, you’re just going to spew everywhere.”
Enlil groaned. “Kill me now,” he implored. “I know I’m supposed to throw up, but I can’t seem to make anything happen.” He sank to his knees with just enough room in the tiny room left over for Candy to stand behind him between his calves as he leaned over the bowl.
“Stick your fingers down your throat,” she instructed. A sympathetic twinge ripped through her as he contemplated her words with a look of horror.
“It will work. I promise.” Candy gathered his beautiful blond braids in one hand and stood quietly while he followed her instruction. Sure enough, within seconds, breakfast violently ejected from his stomach into the toilet bowl, and not too long after, Enlil sputtered his disgust.
“That was horrible.” He coughed, quickly flushing. “Is it supposed to come out my nose?”
Before Candy could answer, Enlil bent over for round two. With her free hand, she groped back and ran a wad of paper towels under cold water. She laid it on the back of Enlil’s neck and a shudder of release progressed through his whole body.
“That feels good.” He flushed again, but retched a few more times until clearly nothing remained in his stomach to give. He sat back on his heels and groaned, leaning his partial weight against Candy’s legs. “How do you humans put up with that?” he asked wretchedly. “I’d rather be torn apart by demons.”
When Enlil shakily stood, Candy closed the lid to the toilet and guided him gently back onto it to sit. She grabbed more paper towels and bathed his face. He looked a lot calmer.
“Feeling better?” she asked, handing him a bunch of tissue.
“Blow,” she said, nodding at the wad.
“Pardon?” Enlil looked cute, disheveled and clueless.
“You’ve got shit up your nose from puking.” Candy didn’t know how to put it any nicer. Hell, why would she be nice anyway? She didn’t even like the guy. Right?
“You’ll smell it all day unless you get it out.” She sighed. He’d probably never had to blow his nose before. “Keep your mouth closed, cover your nostrils with this,” she positioned his hand, holding the paper, up to his face, “then send air out through your nose. It will clear the passages.”
After a few feeble attempts, Enlil finally got the gist of it and successfully unblocked his sinuses. It must have been a vast relief. “I’d feel almost…human again,” he joked, “If I was human. And if my mouth didn’t taste like a waste pit.”
“Nice visual, dude.” Candy dug in the small pack she’d worn in and tugged out a travel toothbrush along with a mini tube of toothpaste. “I come prepared,” she announced, triumphantly. She eased Enlil up and shimmied around him, trading positions until she sat, and he leaned his big frame over the tiny sink. Time for a tease to get him out of his own head.
“If you hadn’t just blown your guts, I’d be tempted to grab your ass.” Candy chortled. “It’s about a half an inch from my face.” She slapped a hand over her mouth before the rest came out. She’d almost added, and looking fine.
Enlil snorted while he finished scrubbing around his teeth, then dropped her now contaminated toothbrush in the waste bin. Good call. She certainly wouldn’t want to use it again.
“If this room didn’t smell ripe,” he teased, attempting to pick up on her appreciation of his butt and help with distracting himself, “I’d make us both members of the mile-high club.” He actually got out an eyebrow waggle. “I am aware of the term for sex in an airplane, having read that Richard Branson, a dare-devil altruistic human―whom I hold in high regard―did the deed in a plane’s lavatory at the age of eighteen.”
While Candy spluttered at that bit of information, Enlil plucked her from the toilet seat by her shoulders. Showing surprising fortitude for someone who’d just lost their breakfast over Denver, he hauled her close and inhaled her scent. Surprisingly, she didn’t feel like fighting and let her body relax into his. In reaction to her capitulation, his whole body sagged against her in apparent relief.
“What I meant to say is, thank you,” he finished, uncharacteristically. His humbleness had her arms coming up to twine around his midsection.
Damn, Enlil was downright likeable when he showed a little humility, but Candy knew better than to get used to it. He’d be up to his old tricks soon enough, but for now, she’d take the truce that seemed to be offered.
Chapter Eight
“Don’t ever expect me to fly again.” Enlil understood why some people kissed the ground when coming off a plane. He’d never been as happy to have his feet on terra firma in his entire immortal life.
“I’d say you’re a big baby, but I got to see the contents of your stomach up close and personal, so I know you’re not faking it.” Candy sounded sympathetically amused.
And speakin
g of stomachs, Enlil’s chose that moment to give an enormously loud growl. He looked around at the astonished faces. “So now I’m hungry. Sue me.” He chuckled. “Doesn’t hunger occur when you’re forced to empty out? And what time is it, anyway?”
Candy looked at her watch. “Not lunch time yet, due to the time change, but I think we could make a stop to grab you some food.”
Enlil held his tongue. Between the attention Candy had given to him on the plane and the way she mothered him now, he felt damn sure she was well on her way to forgiving him, even if she would be the last to admit it. There’d been some discussion between the other guys about her attitude change as well. Apparently, Candy had stopped acting like the hard-ass agent they knew. She’d almost become mushy…almost. Enlil took that as a positive sign.
“Good,” Enlil grunted. “Food and then a nap to take the edge of that hellacious airplane trip.” He walked after the moving group. They were headed toward some tricked out SUVs that stood by themselves in a roped-off section of the parking garage. Nice gig. Obviously, the agents enjoyed some special treatment on their home turf. As he hefted his suitcase, a question occurred to him.
“Hey. Where am I staying, anyway?” He asked it innocently enough, but the team stopped walking as one, and turned to look at him blankly. Every eye then focused on Jake.
“I hadn’t really thought about it.” The boss gave a “what the fuck do I care” shrug. He glanced around at his crew. “He can bunk with anyone he wants. None of you guys are married, and you have apartments with room enough to accommodate a guest. So this is a problem, why?” Jake narrowed his eyes.
“No offense, Enlil.” Gramps had helped Candy distract him during the balance of the flight, and gotten to know Enlil a little better than the rest. “But I’m not keen on having an invisible guy in the house.”
“Ah, shit.” Jake let the expletive fly. “I forgot that, without Candy around, you’d be relegated to nonphysical form.”
Enlil gazed around the circle and the other guys gave quick shakes of their heads. Clearly nobody wanted their “style” cramped by a guest they couldn’t see, and Jake was probably unwilling to have his own revolving door for women―the one the guys talked about―c-blocked by a ghost-like presence. The boss agent confirmed this.
“Yeah. If I get lucky,” he smirked. “The last thing I need is someone watching my ass from behind. Agent Lane.” Jake squared his shoulders against an impending eruption of epic proportions. “You’ll be housing our new team member at your place.” He turned to walk toward the waiting vehicles but―ouch―got hit between the shoulders with a heavy duffel.
“No fucking way, Jake.”
Enlil wondered how she could not have seen this one coming.
“Get him a room at the local motel, or better yet, have him stay at Dunsky’s place.”
“Dunsky’s place is out,” Jake’s voice hardened and left no room for dispute, “and I’ll think about a hotel after we figure out the pros and cons of leaving an invisible Enlil to fend for himself.” He pointed a finger at Candy, her bag on the ground at his feet. “Pick up your shit, and take your roommate home to sleep off his flight. And that’s an order.”
Candy stuck out and bit her tongue in a gesture of defiance. Enlil, hoping to force the issue with sympathy, let himself sag to seem worse for the wear.
“Temporarily, Jake,” Candy barked, paying Enlil no mind. “You will find a way to get him off my hands.”
Enlil figured she’d have to suck it up. Although why Jake had dodged the suggestion that Enlil could bunk in Dunsky’s empty house, puzzled him. Something was up there, and he’d figure it out later.
Candy scooped up her pack and hit Jake on his ass with it on its way up to her shoulder. “Oops.” She made no pretense it had been an accident, then pretty much bared her teeth at her boss. “Sorry.”
If Enlil hadn’t been completely out of sorts, it would have been just the type of situation he’d feed into. But he didn’t have that much energy. He’d play nice for now.
Maybe he should have taken off with the invisible Ishkur and found a place to lay low together, unembodied. But right now, his corporeal self craved food and sleep and he didn’t know how that would translate if he morphed into an insubstantial state. He had a feeling it wouldn’t go well, although he’d never tried it before. Being in a strange city, it probably wasn’t an optimal time to find out.
“I’ll only bother you until I feel…right,” Enlil let Candy know, trying to assuage her pissed-off demeanor. He really did need a buddy right now. He reeled, out of kilter, and surmised his powers might be transitorily compromised. He didn’t want to take any chances.
“Fine.” Had Candy just whined? “But don’t complain because my pull-out sucks to sleep on.” She ignored him thereafter.
Hours later, Enlil agreed with Candy’s assessment of the loathsome piece of furniture. The pad―deemed a mattress―sat no more than three-inches thick, and the support bar was an unrelenting protrusion in his back. As an invisible god, he couldn’t feel it, but it had him contorted, and he’d be a pretzel once he regained his body. He’d be lucky if he’d be able to walk.
Candy had gone out―after mutely showing him around her apartment―to buy groceries. They’d stopped at a convenience store on the way to her place and picked up a couple of power bars to take the edge off his hunger, but he looked forward to a real meal. His stomach needed to be happy, even though his back might not be.
Enlil fantasized enviously about the big, inviting bed he’d glimpsed through the door to Candy’s bedroom, and after wedging and re-wedging himself in different positions for twenty minutes, he decided to give up. What the fuck? Candy could kill him later, but in the meantime, he needed sleep. He acquired the pillow she’d given him as well as the down comforter, and glided―invisible and naked―down the short hallway. Let the agent complain, he snorted. If he were lucky, he could get an hour of snooze time in before she tossed his ass.
Candy’s eyes, as she opened the door balancing two bags of groceries, targeted straight to the couch across her modest living room. It had clearly been used, but currently lay vacant. Where was her not-so-welcome guest?
She threw her keys on the counter that split the room into kitchen and living areas, placing the bags down a little more gently. She spotted the pile of discarded clothing on the floor. Great. Did Enlil wander the streets of LA invisible and naked? What could the idiot be thinking?
Wait. Her brain suddenly registered that the pillow and blanket were missing along with the god. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. Oh, no he wouldn’t.
Candy stalked down the hallway and eased open the door to her room, which remained ajar, as quietly as possible. She wanted to catch him in the act.
Her chest seized up, and she sucked in a breath.
Enlil was out cold, face up, with one arm carelessly flung to the side, and the other bent over his face. His magnificent body splayed out in all its naked glory. She popped her eyes quickly to the floor, stunned. Yup. So much for the comforter. There it sat in a discarded and neglected heap.
When she dared bring her scrutiny from the carpet back to the bed, her slow perusal started at his long toes. She’d never considered toes sexy before, but his were sturdy and nicely shaped.
Candy continued her roaming gaze up his muscled calves―sprinkled with a golden dusting of hair―past his huge thighs, to the masculine center of him. She swallowed reflexively. Even at rest, what a fucking magnificent cock.
When she’d given him that blowjob back in the Blue Hills, it had been dark, and she hadn’t seen him in full light, and certainly not witnessed the nest of brilliant curls that surrounded his dick. Gorgeous.
Then she remembered his intoxicating scent. Candy used every ounce of her willpower to hold back from the temptation of striding forward to bury her nose in the honeyed softness at his crotch. Geeze. Perv much?
Candy forced her eyes upward, away from temptation and over his flat belly and ropey
abdomen. Enlil’s body would put steroid users to shame. His gut flared up into an intensely muscled chest, covered with more of that soft flaxen down, before broadening into massive shoulders that took up an immense portion of her big bed. Enlil was powerfully shaped…and yummy. Candy couldn’t keep a sigh from escaping.
“If you’ve taken a good look,” Enlil’s voice came, deep and drowsy, “you could put the blanket back over me. It’s chilly in here.”
Enlil stretched, while sending the teasing words to Candy, and removed the arm from over his brow. She couldn’t move and remained rooted, doe-eyed in the doorway.
“Better yet,” he suggested, “there’s nothing here you haven’t touched before.” His cock weaved an intriguing dance upward. “Why don’t you come keep me warm?”
Candy jerked into awareness. “You…you. Who said you could use my bed?” she spluttered.
Enlil’s lips parted in a smile. “You didn’t think for a minute that―even invisible―I could get comfortable on that torture device you call a sleeper sofa, did you? More like a suffering sofa.” He snorted. Enlil didn’t budge to cover himself up. Huffing, Candy strode decisively into the room and threw the blanket over his man parts.
“Well, you’re not sleeping in here, buster.” Fuck. She had the absurd urge to crawl in next to him. He lay invitingly in a puddle of afternoon sun that streamed in through her windows.
“Play nice, Candy,” he said, shooting a hand out and grabbing her leg.
Shit. She’d gotten too close.
“You know, I owe you one.” His lids dipped to half-mast. “And I always pay my debts.”
“Owe me one what?” Candy hissed suspiciously, trying to extricate herself unsuccessfully from his grip. It was apparently the wrong or the very right question to ask. Enlil yanked her forward onto the bed and spun his big body over hers before she had a chance to think.
He captured both of her hands in one of his and shoved them above her head, to nuzzle the side of her neck. “I seem to recall I’m in arrears.” He drew the word out while stroking Candy’s ass. She bucked and struggled, but he had no trouble restraining her. “I’ve received an orgasm and you haven’t,” Enlil purred into her ear. He raised his naked body long enough to reach between them and fit his hand over the mound of her pussy, hot and needy inside her jeans.
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