Accidentally...Cimil?

by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

  “You know exactly what it’s saying.”

  “Then you must do the opposite,” she counseled. “You must help him.”

  “No!”

  “Just try it,” she argued. “See what happens. Maybe I’ll disappear!”

  I clamped my eyes shut. Shit, shit, shit. So unfair! I clenched my fists and pasted on an expression that wasn’t quite a smile, but was, at the very least, nontoxic.

  “I hate you,” I told her.

  Narmer crossed his arms over his chest, glaring. “So, this is your answer. This is how you choose to treat me?”

  Wh-wh-what? Oh my gods! How dare he—

  “I figured you might play your hand in such a way,” he said and then bowed his head. “Very well. I came prepared.”

  I growled. He was making this “sucking it up for the sake of humanity” thing almost impossible.

  “You will help me or—”

  “Or what?” I hissed. I simply couldn’t hold my tongue. “Or you’ll screw some poor woman in front of me while draining the life from her, murder my beloved pet, and then remove my head? Again!” I pushed him, but he didn’t budge. “Well, screw you and the leather pants you rode in on, because there is no one, and I mean no in this world that I’d rather—”

  I was about to say “kill,” but Other-me interrupted. “Watch yourself, Cimil. Remember our mission. Humanity depends on you.”

  Dammit! Dammit! Dammit! I stomped my foot. This situation sucked camel humps.

  I took a deep breath.

  “In exchange for your consideration,” he said. “I will return your beast. I merely ask thirty days to prove to myself you are not the love of my existence.”

  I covered my mouth with my hand. “Minky is alive?”

  He nodded. “Do we have a deal?”

  “You lied to me?” I growled.

  “Yes or no?” he said sharply. “Decide.”

  All this time, I’d been without her, thinking my beloved pet was dead? And he said nothing? He let me suffer? I am going to kill him.

  I pasted on a smile. “Yes. Yes, we do.”

  Narmer bowed his head. “I will return tomorrow evening at sundown.”

  He swooped from the room in a blur.

  I grumbled several ugly words in the direction he’d left.

  “You know, Cimi,” said Other-me, “simply because you’re supposed to help the man doesn’t mean you can’t play with him a little. I mean, I can’t see how a little payback is going to throw us off track.”

  I planned to do a lot more than deliver a little payback.

  * * *

  In preparation for Narmer’s arrival, I bathed in rose-scented soap, put on the lowest cut dress I could find—the red silk number with white lace trim—and wore my flaming-red hair in loose, wild ribbons down my back. My look screamed “sex kitten,” though that term didn’t exist yet, so I supposed the appropriate term should’ve been “whore.”

  I had to admit I felt excited dressing for him, knowing that I would see him and finally have the chance to give him a little taste of revenge. Because while the last four thousand–something years had zoomed by, there wasn’t a day that went by since we met where I didn’t think of him. And trust me, I tried not to. I did everything within my power to drown the memories—knitting, gardening, poetry, hosting orgies—but nothing worked. Seeing Narmer again made me realize that it was because he and I had unfinished business. Mainly, I had a score to settle.

  “Good evening, my goddess.” Narmer appeared before me, grasping a handful of wildflowers. My first reaction was to rip them from his hand and beat him with them, but instead, I gracefully stood from my love seat, accepted them from his hand, and allowed him to bask in my hotness.

  His dark eyes flickered with lust as he drank me in. “You look”—he reached for my free hand and kissed the top—“delectable.”

  I snapped my appendage away. “Thanks, but you can turn off the charm. I’ve been with enough of your kind to know how this vampire seduction works.”

  Narmer frowned. “What do you mean by ‘been with’?”

  I licked my lips. “Been. As in, bedded. Played in the sack. Rode until cross-eyed. You do know that vampires and deities are sexually compatible, yes? Sadly, the rest of my kind feels they are too good to do the hokey-pokey with a vampire. I, however, have taken a liking to it. In fact, it’s like a competitive sport. I like to see which ones last the longest.”

  It was true. The touch of a deity wasn’t fatal for a vampire, which made it ironic that my brethren saw nothing of value in their race, with the exception of Kinich, of course, who still held a certain morbid fascination with their kind. After the Narmer incident, I had a very long discussion with my brethren, keeping their origin secret to myself obviously. They saw the vampires as just another one of the Creator’s creatures, brought into the world for the sole purpose of teaching us humility. A reminder of sorts to keep our egos in check. They were kinda, sorta right, but not quite.

  In any case, while my brethren had a healthy fear of vampires, they mostly loathed them. I, on the other hand, viewed them as an invaluable asset to my all-out attempt to destroy humanity—er, save humanity. You get the picture.

  Narmer raised a brow, and I immediately sensed his jealousy.

  Good. The more suffering, the better!

  “Well,” he said calmly, “I suppose it would be unrealistic to expect you to remain alone all these years. Especially given how beautiful you are.”

  Ugh. Did he think I’d be sitting by the phone—if we had phones—waiting for him to call? Idiot. “Let’s cut the crap, Narmer. The deal was thirty days in exchange for Minky.”

  “Uh-uh-uha.” He wagged his finger. “The agreement was you must allow me the opportunity to understand the nature of my feelings for you—thirty days to learn why I am obsessed with you.”

  “Which in your mind means… what?”

  “We will make love. What else?”

  “For thirty days?” I asked.

  The man was off his immortal rocker. That said, this could be fun! “I will sleep with you one time, but only after you’ve satisfied my list of demands—”

  “I said nothing about agreeing to a list.”

  “Do you want to play bowling for Cimi or not?”

  He stared, calmly mulling it over. “I agree to nothing, except for bowling—my invention, by the way—but let me hear your list.”

  I snickered on the inside. “Nope. I will give you one task each day. If you complete the task successfully, you may return the next day for another. At the end of the thirty days, if you cross the finish line, then the big trophy is yours.”

  He cocked one brow. “Mine.” It wasn’t a question.

  I nodded. Ya. Like you’re ever going to succeed. “The whole enchilada, papi.”

  “Your words continue to perplex me. You do mean sex. Yes?” he asked skeptically.

  “Yeppers.”

  “I sense your trickery, Cimil. No doubt you will not play fair and ask me to do something I find morally repugnant or that will land me in hot water with others, your brethren in particular.”

  Hmmm… he’s on to me. “I promise that I will ask you to do many morally apprehensible things; however, I promise to only involve the two individuals standing right here. Three if you count Other-me.”

  “Who is Other-me?” he asked.

  “Don’t ask,” I replied. “The answer will only give you the uncontrollable urge to scream. Or send you into a crippling spiral of lusty fantasies involving twins. Redheaded twins. Point is, my terms are my terms. Take it or leave it.” Take it, take it, take it. I want to see you suffer…

  Apprehension flickered in his dark eyes.

  “What. Aren’t you a big bad Ancient One? Almost five thousand years old? What could I possibly dish that you cannot handle? Hmmm?”

  He stared at me.

  “Fine.” I flicked my wrist. “You may leave, then. I have a date tonight anyway. I think you might know him, your br
other Philippe.” Philippe wasn’t his real name, but many vampires found it easier to go unnoticed by humans if they attempted to fit in. They often changed names, moved to another continent, and tried to keep their look fresh. In any case, Philippe was about as fresh and big and bad as they came. He was also the brother who’d tried to overthrow Narmer and who would later end up the leader of the evil vampires, better known as Obscuros. Philippe and I were close buds now. It went against my better judgment, so that had to be a good thing, I supposed.

  Narmer growled. “Very well. Name the first challenge.”

  I wanted to pull him in slowly. Make it easy at first. “I hate your name. It reminds me of painful memories. You will change it to… Barbara.”

  He tilted his head.

  “Okay. Rrrroberto.”

  “Roberto?” he asked.

  “No. I said, ‘Rrrroberto.’ ”

  “Roberto. This is what I said.”

  “No you have to rrrrroll the R,” I said.

  “Ah yes.” He took a big breath. “Roooberto.” He smiled proudly. “There, you see. And now that we have that out of the way.” I blinked, and he had his thick arms wrapped around my body.

  “Let me go!” I squirmed against his iron grip.

  Damn, had he gotten stronger? Because I had the strength of twenty men. I knew this because I’d recently won a round of tug-of-war at the local watering hole. Got me a new horse and few pounds of gold, including one man’s tooth—he didn’t think I would win. Idiot. I always win!

  I wiggled a hand free and gave Narmer—errr, Roooberto—a hard slap.

  His dark eyes narrowed, and he pressed his lips to mine. They were firm and masculine and sent shock waves of need through my system.

  No! No! I would not let him do this. I fell for his alpha-male bull crap once, but never again.

  I lifted my knee and landed it right on the mark.

  Roberto doubled over, groaning and cupping himself. “Arrrrr. What the saints did you do that for?”

  He can roll his R’s!

  I smiled. “That’s what happens to little boys who take without asking.”

  “You kick little boys in their balls? You truly are evil,” he grunted.

  “Wh-wha—no! I do not hit children! Oh, shut up.”

  I grabbed him by the arm and shuffled him toward the door. “Out! Out you crusty, old pharaoh.”

  I slammed the door behind him, knowing full well it would never deter him from returning, so I hoped he’d had enough for the evening. I sure as hell did.

  I walked into my bedroom and pulled a mirror from the drawer to fix my makeup. I looked at my reflection and let out a slow breath. My pale face was flushed, my pupils dilated. Dammit. That man still had a grip over me.

  “I don’t care what the consequences are; I must destroy him.”

  Chapter Eight

  The next evening, I made sure not to be at home, but in a place I knew Mr. Decapitator would easily find me. A place that would trigger a severe case of angst.

  I watched Philippe, a lanky man with a straggly mop of black hair, pace across his lavishly furnished living room—velvety upholstery, gold inlay on all the wood, crystal chandelier. It was just as over the top as his clothing. He wore a burgundy tunic with blue piping on the sleeves along with white tights. Call me crazy, but I simply couldn’t get into the men-in-leggings look. Not hot.

  Philippe scratched his unshaven chin. “And you are certain, Cimil, that the vampire queen will not come after us?” he asked.

  I laughed and then popped up from my seat. “First”—I held out one finger—“I have found her a distraction. A male who is, shall I say, perfect for her in every way.” Yes, I believed I’d found her mate. How did I know? The dead of the future from the queen’s very own dungeon spoke of a man that would drive her mad with lust. This man went by the name Andrus Gray. It took me a while, but I tracked him down and arranged the events, sending them on a collision course. Once he was in her life, the queen would think of nothing but him. Philippe would be free to start picking apart her army, recruiting the best for his own cause.

  Why would I do such a horrible thing? Simple. It was a well-known fact that the queen was Narmer’s right hand and the first human he’d ever made into a vampire. When he became tired of ruling, he made her the figurehead of his “good” vampire kingdom. Yes, I’d been keeping tabs on Narmer. Point was, however, I hated her. Loathed her. Which meant I had to help her find true love. As for Philippe—well, he was pure evil. A sick bastard with zero respect for human life who never got over the fact that his brother Narmer outranked him in this life or the past. That meant I had to help him.

  See how horribly confusing everything was for me? Like equaled hate. Hate equaled BFF. Gray equaled pink. Good, bad. Bad, good.

  One word: crazy.

  “What about that fucking general, Niccolo DiConti? He will never step aside quietly and allow us to ruin the army he has amassed.”

  I sighed. Why did everyone doubt me? “Now, now, Philippe. You just leave him to me.” I patted him on the arm. “Mr. DiConti will be quite busy for the next three hundred years locked in my piggy bank.” I flicked my wrist. “Now. Off you go! World destruction.” I actually felt a little excited by how well my counterintuitive, evil plotting was heading for once that I couldn’t help but do a little “Ode to Wonderful Me” clap. Next, I planned to hook the Obscuros up with Team Scab (aka the Maaskab, aka Mitnal’s legacy of skanky priests). The challenge was getting two extremely untrustworthy factions to trust each other enough to work together. After all, that had been Mitnal’s original plan. He’d simply failed to anticipate that Narmer would kill him instead of fight for him. Idiot.

  Philippe dipped his head. “As usual, your abilities astound me. I am in your debt, Cimil,” he said and then disappeared, sifting to his next appointment.

  “Stop staring; you’re ruining the moment.” I turned around and saw Roberto standing in a dark corner of the room with a look of disgust.

  “You’re sleeping with my brother?” he barked.

  “Well, yeah. How else would I get him to do my evil bidding?” I lied. “Or get him to tell me where you’re staying so I could arrange to have your house filled with chickens while you slept?”

  Roberto marched forward, seething. “You truly have no moral standards, do you?”

  “Nope. By the way… what is that smell? Is that chicken poop?”

  He smelled fine, but the look on his face was priceless. If only I could’ve been there to see his expression when he woke up to four hundred chickens using his house as their personal toilet.

  He growled. “Very amusing, Cimil. But your childish pranks will not deter me.”

  Just wait until he finds out that I had his cistern filled with holy water.

  “If I win this little challenge of yours,” he continued, “you will never spread your legs for another man again.”

  How crude! And dammit! I really like it when he speaks dirty.

  “Not sure I could give up Philippe,” I said to fan the flames my little lie had created. “He’s full of so many dirty tricks.”

  “Then I will have to kill him,” Roberto said coldly.

  Good idea. He’s awful.

  Wait. Where did he get off?

  “Whoa there, RoboPharaoh. What’s with plotting the death of my lovers? I agreed to sleep with you. Once! That was it. And you said you only want me so that you can learn how to break the ‘curse.’ ”

  “That is correct,” he grumbled.

  “So why are you acting like the jealous boyfriend?”

  “I do not know! But you will not! Touch! Another!” he roared.

  “Who do you think you are? You can’t order me around!”

  He pushed his tall body against mine. “I can do anything I like. I am the most powerful vampire in the world.”

  I stood on my tiptoes and met his glare. “The stupidest vampire in the world maybe!”

  “Stupid?” His eyes turned into orbs o
f black, and when that happened to a vampire, it meant one of three things: they were angry, horny, or hungry.

  Well, bring it on! ’Cause when I’m done with him, he’s going to want his mummy!

  “I’ve met dirt smarter than you,” I seethed.

  “Bitch.”

  “Asshole,” I replied.

  “God, you’re sexy when you’re angry.”

  “You read my mind,” I growled.

  Roberto slammed me into the wall with his body. Plaster rained down on us, and the room shook as his mouth connected with my lips, his tongue lashing and thrusting against mine, his hips eager and demanding as the rest of him.

  “Dammit, woman, you make me so fucking crazy,” he said in a deep, gravelly tone.

  I tore at his shirt and dug my claws into his shoulders before raking them down his back. I wanted to scratch him and bite him and fuck him like a piece of meat.

  “Aaah!” he bellowed as my nails left a trail of raw flesh.

  “You like that, don’t you.” It wasn’t a question.

  He grabbed my hair in the back and pulled hard, forcing me to stare up at him. “Yes!” His delicious, angry lips slammed into mine.

  My lips stung from the impact, and my body felt like it would burst into wild, magnificent, scorching flames of anger and lust. “I hate you.”

  “I hate you more.” He released his grip and lifted me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist, allowing him to angle his hard shaft at the throbbing bundle between my legs.

  He pressed himself into me, his pace aggressive and savage, while we mauled each other with our mouths. I’d never felt anything so insanely carnal. I couldn’t stop my body from what it was doing—grabbing and touching and scratching him closer.

  His hips moved in a frantic rhythm, my hips following in perfect synchronization, our bodies knowing exactly what to do, what the other wanted, and how to please the other down to the precise amount of pressure to apply. Yes, our minds were out of control, swimming in a sexual frenzy, feeding off each other’s anger, but our bodies worked as one, sprinting toward that sweet, sweet finish line.