COLEL (Immortal Matchmakers, Inc. Series Book 5)

by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

  Nevertheless, in this moment, she had no bees, yet Rys grimaced in disgust.

  “Thanks, but not interested.” He turned to go back to his coffee.

  He’s leaving? Just like that? No one dismissed her. No one! “You come back here this moment, sir, or so help me, I will feed your thumbs to a Maaskab.”

  The truth was, the Maaskab were not a threat to anyone at the moment, given that the sect of ancient Mayan priests, who excelled at the dark arts, were only a few hundred strong and the Universe had done that whole flipping thing. At the moment, the evil bastards were actually the nicest people on the planet. Temporarily, of course. In any case, Colel’s threat was an empty one, but she had to say something to this Rys man. He might not know she was a deity, but no one brushed her off like that.

  Rys’s dark brows furrowed, and his lips tightened. The entire room of first responders had also heard her threat, and from the scowls on their faces, they didn’t seem too pleased. “Look, lady, I don’t—”

  “Colel. My name is Colel.”

  “All right, Colel, I don’t know what kind of drugs you’re on or what crazy fucking cult you belong to, but let me make a few things clear: This is my town. This is my home. And your type of city scum, with your ridiculous modern art that you wear on your head, and your free-range beehive, or whatever bullshit that was I saw yesterday, aren’t welcome.”

  He thinks I’m on drugs? I can’t believe this guy. To be clear, the cult thing was fairly accurate, given the gods were, after all, the baseline for every religion known to man. So, yeah, kind of culty.

  As for his comment about her clothes, she had, in fact, purchased everything in LA, from Mr. Damien Greystone, a tailor who dressed many immortals, like his father and grandfather before him. Graystone had commissioned a local artist to create a beehive hat made of durable, lightweight material to replace the real hive she’d worn for thousands of years. That thing was heavy. Over sixty pounds. You try wearing that for seventy millennia and let me know how your neck feels, buster!

  Colel bowed her head and then raised her chin high. “Well, now you have accomplished your goal of insulting me. You are victorious.”

  “There’s the door.” He glanced at the exit, as if she were too stupid to find it on her own.

  “Oh no.” She chuckled wickedly. “I’m not leaving. Not town, anyway. You are merely victorious in wronging me, but unfortunately for you, I have business here. And as my rental contract says, I’m as welcome as anyone for the next seven days.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “You mean the eight-bedroom, two-story log cabin with the sauna and movie room?”

  “Errrr…yes?” How did he know that?

  “Yeah, well, that’s my property.”

  “Wait. But the contract says RT Real Estate.”

  He cocked one brow, as if to say, Hello, dumbass. That’s me.

  “Wow. You really do own this town.”

  “Not all of it.”

  Who cared? What mattered to her was that this little alpha-male, flower-shop owner seemed to have his fingers in a lot of pies. Florist, snowplowing, and real estate.

  Not just a hunky, bitter simpleton. Add to that the waitress’s comments? There’s definitely more to this man. Though, she sensed nothing out of the ordinary other than his suspiciously exaggerated rudeness (and sexiness, which did not matter). No immortal light, no otherworldly blood.

  He was human.

  Even his aura was your usual mix of lighter colors with a few ribbons of brown, i.e., mostly good but with a bit of baggage. In short, this brief interaction had done little to explain what made him special. Even now, with her anger firing on all cylinders, her girly parts were throbbing away beneath her white leather pants, a primal response to his pheromones. And the strong arms. And legs. And the shape of his supple lips. And maybe his potent sperm? Do I even want children when I already have Chuck and—blah! Stop it.

  “Well, I’ve already paid for the full week,” so your little defensive act isn’t running me off, “and with the storm, I’m not going anywhere. I guess you’ll have to put up with me and my offensive city fashion until I’m ready to go. But, for the record, I don’t do drugs. Merely existing is a trip—one that just keeps on giving.” She noticed Rys was no longer looking at her. His eyes were fixated on the plate-glass window to her side.

  Slowly, she turned her head to see the entire surface covered in bees. One in particular was smacking his little head against the glass, making a tiny thump! Thump! Thump! sound.

  Dammit, Chuck. Always such a drama king.

  “Are those…” the waitress’s words faded off for a moment, “bees?”

  “But it’s minus ten outside,” said the sheriff.

  “Sorry about that.” Colel slid from the booth and scrambled to her feet. “They, uh…really love snow. Yes, snow and skiing and all forms of outdoor winter activities,” she rambled frantically.

  Thump! Thump! Thump!

  “What’s their take on diner windows?” Rys asked with one dark brow arched, his expression bordering on disturbed as he raked his fingertips over his strong, sexy jaw.

  Yum. “They, uh…” Colel shook her head to regain her composure. “They love them? They—they are a special breed of Arctic diner bees. They’re obsessed with apple pie and sundaes, too. But no worries. I’ll have them back in their…uh…foodie playpen in a jiffy.”

  She rushed outside, refraining from yelling at her ninjas until the entire crew was loaded into the back of her Jeep. Everyone inside the diner had their noses pressed against the glass.

  “Great, guys. They’re all staring.” I’ll have to come up with some sort of bullshit: I carry a special spray that attracts them. Or, They’re really circus bees; I trained them to stare awkwardly through windows.

  She cranked the engine and backed out. “You couldn’t stay put for just one hour?” Now she’d never get this Rys man to lower his defenses, and something was definitely going on with him. “Seriously, guys. I’m beyond furious! Don’t I do everything for you? I feed and house you. I look over each and every one of your tiny fuzzy bodies with love and tenderness, and this is how you repay me? By scaring away people I might actually want to get to know?”

  Chuck landed on her nose and pressed down with his six tiny legs.

  A hug? Awww… Her heart melted. They had been worried that something bad had happened.

  “You guys…” She blew out a breath. “I’m sorry I left without telling you where I was going.”

  She felt more little bodies climb onto her arms, neck, and face, covering everything but her eyes. Lots of little hugs.

  “I swear, if I didn’t love you so much, I’d sell you all to Cimil.” Her sister was notorious for torturing tiny creatures for her amusement.

  Colel put the Jeep into drive, and when she glanced to her right, she noticed Rys standing a few feet away next to his truck. He’d seen everything. Including her bee suit.

  Crap. Not good. How would she ever get him to warm up to her if every interaction made her seem more and more like the crazy person he believed her to bee?

  She made an awkward wave and drove off, but when she glanced into the rearview mirror, the light from the diner caught the side of his face. Call her crazy, but he didn’t look angry or repulsed as he watched her drive away. He looked…lost. Maybe even like he didn’t truly want her to go.

  You’re imagining it, she scolded herself, and continued on her way.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  By the time Colel returned, Brutus and his men were sitting around the large oak table in the kitchen, wolfing down cereal while laughing and nodding silently, as telepathic soldiers did.

  So creepy. It was like watching a gathering of wacky mimes who rejected the whole black-and-white getup. Or maybe they were more like one of those guys who stood on the street corner, wearing a flowerpot on his head, talking to a signpost about why scrambled eggs are the best.

  Yeah. That. But a whole table of ’em. For the record, however,
not all people who stood on street corners conversing with inanimate objects were crazy. For example, her sister-in-law Emma used to hear a male voice in her head and could often be spotted having screaming matches on the streets of New York City. Turned out that the voice was Votan, the God of Death and War, who at the time had been trapped by those evil Mayan priests. The Maaskab had somehow managed to turn the gods’ cenotes—underground springs found only in the jungles of Southern Mexico—into prison cells. The gods used some of those springs to travel between the human world and their own, kind of like riding a wave. Only this wave was made of powerful energy that flowed underground in this particular part of the world. A very inconvenient form of travel if one desired to go somewhere far from Mexico, like India, for example. Thankfully, humans had advanced in the ways of transportation with marvelous inventions called airplanes. Back in the days of donkeys, canoes, and ships with sails, it was a miracle if a god made it anywhere outside the continent.

  They did travel, of course. Egypt was once their favorite place to vacation, and it was no accident that their culture focused heavily on deity worship. Nor was it a coincidence that the ancient Egyptians shared many similarities in architecture, astronomy, and hieroglyphics with the Mayans, who had the most contact with the gods since they lived in the very same Mexican jungles where these cenotes were located. Of course, as the gods began hearing of larger groups of humans establishing themselves, Colel and her brethren traveled farther and farther away to check on them. Just like I check on my bees.

  “Did your mission go well?” asked Brutus, breaking away from the silent breakfast conversation with his crew.

  “Roads are a mess but still passable. I imagine that will be changing soon since the wind is picking up.” Snowdrifts would undoubtedly make it impossible to plow.

  And therefore narrow my chances of being plowed, too. Somewhere in the nil to never range.

  Hold on. What am I saying? I do not want to be plowed by that horrible man, Rys.

  “Rise.” She pfft’d. “What kind of silly name is that for a grown man, anyway?” It’s like naming a person Stiffy or Woody or Uppity Wiener.

  Brutus lifted one dark brow. “Come again?”

  “Oh, uhhh…never mind.”

  “Are you certain I cannot help you with anything?”

  “No,” she said, wondering what he meant. “I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

  “It’s simply that you mentioned plowing, and I am always here to help with such manly tasks.” He smiled mischievously.

  Huh? “Well, if you’d like to be of use, you could pull out the maps from our last visit to the area and create a hiking plan. There are over ten miles of trail to cover, if my memory serves. And with this weather, I’d be grateful if you could shorten the journey any way possible.”

  His roguish grin melted away. “As you wish.”

  With a jerk of her head she confirmed that she did in fact wish. “And now, if you don’t mind, I shall take a long hot bubble bath.”

  “I was just about to take one myself. I quite enjoy them. I’ve also just purchased some nice bath salts infused with green tea and seaweed.” He winked.

  “Uh, good for you?”

  Once again, Brutus had the expression of a man who’d been slighted.

  “Ohmygods. What is it with you? Just tell me,” she demanded.

  “Nothing at all.”

  “All right. If you say so.” She sighed with exasperation and headed up the stairs.

  “Would you like me to watch over your hive while you bathe?”

  Already halfway up the stairs, she froze. Oh, I forgot. “Bees, go to Brutus!” she commanded. “The goddess needs her bubbles.” The one-inch-thick coating of honey bees covering her body lifted away and flew to Brutus like miniature puppies seeking treats.

  “See you later, goddess,” Brutus mumbled from beneath his living blanket.

  Colel went to her room and began peeling off her layers of clothing. To her surprise, a giant smile stretched across her face. The way Brutus—Mr. Tough Guy—bee-sat at the drop of a hat was kind of sweet, as was the way her little ones eagerly went to him.

  Too bad he’s not my mate. It would make her life much easier. But the Universe liked her games and enjoyed her mischief. She insisted upon making the gods fight for their forever-someones. Oddly, this Rys man didn’t want to fight for her. He just wanted her gone.

  Or does he? The way he’d watched her leave had her questioning the conviction of his abrasive posturing.

  It’s like…he’s angry, but he doesn’t want to be. He reminded her of the time they’d gone to war with the Maaskab a few years back. It was one of those apocalyptic situations, requiring every able body to fight. She and a group of Uchben soldiers had gone into the Mexican jungle, trying to weed out the priests who’d decided to join forces with evil vampires. There, she’d cornered one of the Maaskab in an old dilapidated Mayan temple. He’d been injured, his soot-covered body bleeding to death. She would never forget the look in his eyes as she and her hive came up to him, ready to finish him off. He wanted so badly to hate her, to fight, but he had been too weak. The weird part was, she somehow knew that what he really wanted was for the pain to end and to be set free. He needed her, and she felt it.

  Then he threw his gross thumb necklace at her, and that was that. Buh-bye.

  Gods, I hope Rys is not some evil man who’s after world domination. That would make for a horrible mate.

  Naked, she sat on the edge of the claw-foot tub and began running the hot water. This truly was a lovely home, no expense spared, no detail left undone.

  With the questions mounting in her head, she had to wonder why he’d bought it. Just a rental property or something more? Because honestly, she wouldn’t mind living in such a place like this with a hunky man like that.

  She quickly pondered all of the stories she’d heard from her brethren. When had they known? How did they know?

  Colel sighed, letting the stream of hot water run over her hand. Perhaps that’s the answer! They hadn’t. In fact, her brethren all said the same thing: Despite the obstacles, the Universe kept forcing them together with their mates. Colel wanted a sign or confirmation, when what she needed to do was fight against him.

  Deny.

  Run.

  If Rys was meant to be hers, then they would be thrown in each other’s paths. From this moment forward, I shall seek him no longer!

  A loud knock on her bedroom door startled her from her deep thoughts. She considered grabbing a towel or a robe, but the house was filled with Uchben warriors. They’d seen her in her birthday suit more times than she’d had actual birthdays.

  Not an exaggeration.

  There was a period of time when she kept traveling to Africa to get to the bottom of their killer bees situation. What angered them? Why were they trying to exterminate the peaceful hives of the world? She never found the answer, and then her attention turned to the greater issue at hand, but during that time, her mortal shell had been destroyed every week, each time sending her soul back to her realm. Once there, she had to make the journey through one of the cenotes again, where her human body would be re-formed over several days. Brutus or one of his soldiers was always there waiting for her to jump out of the water. Naked as a baby.

  She went to the bedroom door and jerked it open. But standing there wasn’t Brutus or one of his men. Sinfully seductive dark eyes and a fierce scowl greeted her.

  “Rys?”

  His gaze drifted down to her breasts and then to the golden brown hair between her legs. “You-you’re not wearing any clothes.” His eyes glossed over with animalistic lust.

  Her first reaction was to jump behind the door and shield him from the sight of her divine curves and supple breasts, but then it occurred to her. She had not invited him here. In fact, only moments before, she’d declared to the Universe that she would swear off him, fight him tooth and nail. If the Universe truly wanted them to be together, it would happen despite all resistanc
e on her part.

  So now he’s here. Is this a sign?

  Colel pushed the door open the rest of the way so Rys could see every inch: smooth goddess skin, long legs, forever perky breasts. “May I help you, sir?”

  He swallowed hard. “Uh, uh…”

  “Yes?” She folded her arms over her chest, being sure to push her tits up just a bit more.

  He blinked. “I, uh…came to…”

  She raised two brows. “I’m waiting. Or are you just going to stand there all day staring at my nipples?”

  He bobbed his head, staring at her nipples. “Is there even a choice?”

  She shrugged. “Probably not. They are quite spectacular.”

  “Yes. They are.” His gaze slowly pulled away, crawling up her neck to meet her eyes.

  Then something wonderful happened. A connection.

  Peering into his espresso-colored eyes felt like dipping her body into that hot bath awaiting her in the other room. It felt like warm sweet honey coating the troubles in her mind, producing a potent desire, demanding she immediately cease all resistance and give in to whatever he wanted.

  Hopefully he wants me to hop in that bed. Because in this moment, all she wanted was him—touching her, kissing her, inside her.

  “So?” She batted her eyelashes.

  “I’m…I need…I came to ask you,” he swallowed hard, “to leave.” His words came out as a half-baked demand, while hard lust flickered in his eyes.

  “Is that what you really want? Or is something telling you to make sure I never leave your side, which scares the hell out of you because we’ve only just met, so how is it possible that you could want someone this much?”

  His eyes flickered with need, but his mouth and posture were rigid, like a man preparing to fend off an intruder.