Immortal Matchmakers, Inc.

by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

  He sighed longingly and continued watching that ass shimmy away until it was nearly out of sight.

  “Okay,” he said under his breath, “time to go retrieve the human.” If he was lucky, he’d get her back to the driveway and she’d walk away again.

  I could do this all day. Except, he needed to hunt down Tim and they needed to get on with his tutoring.

  He gave himself a little pinch to get his head out of his ass and jogged after her, catching up quickly. Even if she were running, she’d be no match for his speed. “Sadie, please be reasonable.”

  “You don’t own me.”

  But perhaps I would like to possess you. In bed.

  No, Andrus. Cease these thoughts immediately. Where had all this come from anyway?

  “Correct,” he replied. “However, you and I both know I can throw you over my shoulder and force you.” And that I would like the feel of your body riding on mine.

  “Lay one finger on me, and it will be the last time you see your digit.”

  Oh, silly mortal. She could not injure him. And didn’t she know that her prickly tongue was turning him the hell on? She needed to stop immediately or he might do something he regretted.

  “I’m giving you one final warning, Sadie. I am trying to help you.”

  She stopped and looked at him with a scowl on those sweet little plump lips that begged for a kiss.

  Yes, kiss her. Look at that mouth. It is perfect for—

  “Listen, Andrus, I am grateful that you care. But I can’t let this prick derail my plans.”

  Speaking of prick, he hoped she didn’t glance down at his fully aroused cock. “You have no choice. And might I remind you how frightened you were a mere sixty seconds ago, which was the correct response.”

  She shrugged. “I guess I got over it.”

  “I’m not letting you go.”

  “I did not ask you to be my bodyguard. I don’t even know you. So as far as I’m concerned, you may bite me.”

  Gods, he couldn’t take much more of her cheeky little growls and back talk. It just made him want to fuck her so hard.

  “Sadie, I’m sorry to inform you, but you’ve already been bitten. This is why I must find Tim.”

  She blinked at him.

  “I did not wish to frighten you further,” he explained, taking the opportunity to touch her again and placing his hands on her arms, “however, there is a bite mark on the back of your shoulder.”

  She slapped her hand over the spot. “Oh shit. Am I going to turn into a werewolf or something?”

  “Good God, I hope not. You’re bitchy enough as it is.”

  She growled at him.

  “What? I was merely jesting. You see how I said ‘bitch’? The word for a female dog—oh neverthefuckmind.”

  The tears began welling in her eyes.

  Oh no. Oh no. I hate watching females cry.

  “My life is over. I can’t believe it,” she sobbed.

  “Your life isn’t over, but I really must find your ex-boyfriend before the trail gets cold. All right?” He reached out and wiped away a tear from under her eye and then gripped her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I promise you, Sexy Sadie, I will help you.”

  She nodded solemnly. “Thank you, Andrus.”

  ~~~

  Sadie couldn’t believe her goddamned luck. It was bad enough to have been attacked and not remember details that might help Andrus catch this guy, but bitten? And now she’d lose her chance at her big audition, too?

  Why the hell me? Why?

  This situation gave a whole new meaning to the term loser magnet. She was more like the loser mecca. Oddly, though, the news revealed by Andrus about his true nature didn’t really scare her so much. Being an actress, she’d put on so many personalities and characters over the years—elf, mermaid, heiress, Valley girl, businesswoman, giant dildo (for a sex store grand opening)—that sometimes make-believe felt real (except the being a dildo part) and the real world felt like the farce.

  That being said, the news about all of these other species hadn’t quite sunk in yet. First, there was the fact that he was a demigod and her fucking agent was a goddess! Seriously? She’d always sensed there was something off about that man. Then the other creatures Andrus had mentioned—vampires and those crazy Mayan priests—sounded scary as hell. Worst of all, however, she’d been bitten and she might actually turn into…a something other than human.

  L.A. is the worst.

  The only thing holding her together right now—and this was the really crazy part—was Andrus. The moment he’d revealed what he truly was, something clicked inside her. Some sort of…she didn’t know, really. It simply felt like the blinders had been removed, and now she saw him for who he truly was. After that, she found herself wanting to touch him and be near him.

  Must be the stress of the situation. Yes. That’s it.

  But then why can’t I stop thinking about kissing him again? Those pouty bad-boy lips were so irresistible.

  She sighed longingly as Andrus rang the doorbell of his friend’s home.

  “Do not worry, meat wench; all will be well,” he said, mistaking her sigh for worry and taking her hand, sending a little wave of tingles through her core.

  She caught a discreet smile on his face. He was trying to make her feel better with a little humor. It was very sweet.

  “The sad part is,” she said, “I’d actually take meat wench over my current status.”

  The front door swung open, and there stood a beautiful as hell, elegant man with fine facial features, dressed in an expensive black suit and deep purple tie. His height was a few inches shorter than Andrus—about six two or so—and his build was considerably leaner, but he was drop-dead gorgeous. The turquoise eyes were especially stunning against his olive skin.

  Wow. If Andrus was the poster child for sexy, ripped tough guys, Tommaso was the poster boy for male models everywhere.

  “Well, well. Who do we have here?” Tommaso said, in a smooth accented voice. It wasn’t Eastern European like Andrus. Italian perhaps?

  “Cut the crap, Tommy,” Andrus said. “This is Sadie. Sadie, this is little Tommy.”

  Tommy ignored Andrus and smiled at her. “You may call me Tommaso like everyone else in the world who doesn’t have brain damage from overexposure to crazy vampire blood.” He reached for her hand and kissed the top. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  Andrus growled.

  Had he just gotten jealous? The thought sent a spike of excited flutters through her stomach.

  “Won’t you come in?” Tommaso offered.

  “Thanks.” She stepped into the foyer and Andrus followed. The interior looked like a Mediterranean paradise with raised ceilings and several huge potted palm trees that reached the enormous skylights.

  “Wow,” she said. “What a lovely home.”

  “Thank you,” Tommaso replied. “It is a recent purchase for my bride-to-be.”

  “Oh. You’re engaged?” she asked.

  “Not yet. But just as soon as I meet her.” He winked.

  Weird.

  Tommaso showed them to the kitchen—about ten times the size of her shoe-box apartment—and made her an espresso, while Andrus told him the details of what he’d seen in her apartment.

  “Well,” Tommaso said, placing a lemon peel on the edge of her little white cup with his elegant fingers, “my guess is it’s a vampire.”

  “No,” Andrus said. “The smell was…different. Familiar, yet strangely not.”

  Tommaso shrugged and placed the little cup in front of her. It smelled delicious. And the way Tommaso handled himself reminded her of James Bond—a gentleman with a few hidden sharp edges. Probably some weapons, too.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  He dipped his head. “It’s my pleasure, Sadie. May I offer you a biscotti? I baked them myself this morning.”

  “God, you’re adorable,” she said. “And you smell so nice.”

  She heard a little grunt to her sid
e from Andrus.

  Had he just gotten jealous again? No. I’m sure I’m misreading him. He doesn’t even like me. Although, he was going out of his way to make her feel protected.

  “You smell nice, too,” she said to Andrus. “And I bet you’d smell even better if you took a shower and stopped brushing with whisky.” Not that she found his smell offensive. Quite the contrary. He had a very masculine scent, like leather and a little sweat and maybe some evaporating alcohol. It wasn’t bad at all, but she could probably smell more of his addictive scent if he made an effort. “I thought you smelled damned nice the night you attacked me,” she offered.

  “He attacked you?” Tommaso asked, smirking.

  “I was trying to serve him steak at this table, Brazilian style.”

  “I love churrascaria,” Tommaso said. “It is one of my favorite styles of dining for dates.”

  “I know, right?” she agreed.

  “Well, if you two girls will excuse me, I have an evil victimizer of the weak and helpless to pursue.”

  “Who are you calling weak and helpless?” she asked. Did he really think that of her? Jesus. She was anything but. In fact, being independent and taking care of herself was something she prided herself on. It seriously irked her to know that he thought so little of her.

  “I am merely pointing out the truth: Humans are fragile,” Andrus replied. “It is why other species enjoy feeding on you; you’re simply lower in the food chain.”

  Her jaw dropped open. “So I’m a chicken or a goat?” Wow, just when she was starting to like him.

  “You’re a human,” he replied. “However, the analogy is correct, which is why you need me.”

  Like hell I do! “I think it’s time for you to go before this chick pecks out your eyes.”

  “Such big words for such a frail little creature,” Andrus said.

  “Oh, my friend. What a way you have with the ladies.” Tommaso chuckled.

  Andrus gave Tommaso the death stare and left without another word.

  “God.” She shook her head. “I don’t get that man. One minute he’s so sweet, and the next he’s such a…barbarian.”

  “It might seem that way at first glance,” Tommaso said with that smooth, charming accent. “However, deep down inside, Andrus is nothing but a big puppy from another time. Except if you’re an evil vampire or some other sort of despicable creature. Then he’s as lethal as they come. The rest of the time, though, he’s usually trying to hide his true nature: a big man with a big heart and huge soft spot for helping people. Especially loves kids. He’s also as loyal as they come,” Tommaso added.

  “So why does he act like…” she waved her hand in the direction of the front door, “like that?”

  “He’s had his heart stomped on a few times, and when that happens, most of us put up walls. His just happens to be made of antiquated chauvinism and swords. But he’s really a good guy. I promise.”

  Darnit. Now she felt terrible for snapping at him. Probably because she knew Tommaso was right. Andrus had shown up to her apartment, saw something was going on, and jumped right in to help her. He didn’t ask for anything in return. She just wished he wouldn’t treat her like she was less than him.

  Why the hell is it bothering me so much? She barely knew the guy. Yet…in the space of less than one day, she suddenly felt herself wondering where he’d been all her life. It was the strangest damned thing, but something about him felt so…good.

  “I’ll be right back,” she said, hoping to catch him before he left.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Andrus was not happy. Not even a little. He was going out of this way to help this female, yet did she show him any gratitude?

  “Oh, no. You smell great, Tommaso,” he mimicked in his best whiny female voice. “I love your suit. Oh, espresso! Yummy.” He punched a few key words into his cell, still sitting in Tommaso’s driveway.

  Vagina art. Talking vaginas. Walking vaginas.

  As his phone did its thing, searching for vagina-themed art exhibitions, he continued his little Sadie-toned rant. “You’re an asshole. Bite me. I’m a strong woman and need no one.”

  “Eh-hem,” said a female voice, through the lowered window at his side.

  Andrus jumped in his seat, finding Sadie standing there with a huge scowl on her face.

  “Do not sneak up on me, woman! Men like me decapitate first, ask questions later.”

  She folded her arms over her chest, causing her breasts to plump. Damn, they look so soft and squeezable and—

  “I came out here to say thank you for helping me and that I was sorry for what I said. But now, I just want to punch your nose.”

  “My apologies, Sadie, but you are very—”

  “Weak?” She rolled her eyes. “Andrus, you can’t go around being such a racist just because you’re built a little stronger than the rest of us.”

  Nice to know she’s come to grips with the truth so quickly.

  “The correct term would be species-ists,” he said, “as a race is defined as a group of humans who share a distinct set of similar physical traits. Species is a classification to separate a genus. However, I was about to say confusing. That said, I cannot help that you are in need of assistance to survive.”

  “Uh-huh. Welp, Mr. Perfect, may I remind you that I was hired to help you first. I believe it had something to do with your lack of social skills? And, by the way, I can see we’re going to have to start with the basics. One of which is not acting like a giant, Neanderthal jackass. What is with you anyway?”

  “Oh, so you believe I should behave like Tommaso?”

  “It wouldn’t hurt. At least he doesn’t act like he’s the gods’ gift to humanity.”

  Sadie had unknowingly pushed his biggest button. He’d been forced to sacrifice everything he was, everything he had for the benefit of humans. For three hundred years he lived in misery, killing, protecting, and doing everything in his power not to lose his sanity. And when it was all over, did he seek revenge or spend his time hating the gods who’d enslaved him and his men? No. He was too damned happy to be free again to waste his time on crying about it, but he would never tolerate anyone ever belittling him or judging him.

  It especially stung coming from this woman, although he didn’t know why.

  He hopped from the car because this message deserved a little face-to-face growling. “Please explain to me, oh mighty human, how having such chivalrous skills would have made me a more efficient hunter of the very species that sought to make you their food slaves? Explain to me how wearing a suit or using the right fork or paying a lady pleasant compliments would have assisted me in slaying over ten thousand bloodthirsty bastards or helped me to lead my men? All of whom were enslaved by the gods to do horrible, grueling work, without a say or any hope of freedom, the threat of our families’ safety or eternal damnation held over our heads? Explain why a man who has had everything he ever loved taken, killed, or destroyed would give a fucking rat’s ass about silk ties or tasty coffee—okay, the coffee, yes—I’m not a barbarian, after all—but other than that? No.”

  Sadie stared up at him with her big, honey-brown eyes, her expression unreadable. “I guess I’d say that you did a really, really good thing and probably no one ever thanked you. So, coming from one of the people who benefited from your sacrifice, thank you. I really mean that. But if, like you said, those horrible things are all gone, don’t you owe it to yourself to move on? To have a life? Re-enter civilization? I can see the bitterness in your eyes, Andrus. You’re not happy. And you deserve to be.”

  He scratched the back of his head and swallowed. “Perhaps you have a point.”

  She smiled warmly and placed her hand on his whiskered cheek. Once again the intimacy of the gesture sparked something deep inside him. It was a feeling of…of…

  Happiness?

  “Then let me help you,” she said. “It’s only right, considering what you’re doing for me.”

  He didn’t know what to say. He’
d never accepted help from anyone. He was always the one who got leaned on, did the dirty work, made the sacrifices. But receive help?

  “Please?” she said sweetly.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “Because there’s something in my gut that tells me you’re worth the effort.”

  ~~~

  Andrus’s little rant had given Sadie a glimpse of something she hadn’t expected: The truth about the person he really was.

  It all makes so much sense now.

  He wasn’t a chauvinistic a-hole—not exactly—but he was a man who’d lived in a constant state of warfare for over three hundred years. He’d been so disconnected from the world, his social views simply hadn’t evolved with the times. And now, she couldn’t really fault him for anything.

  “Why do you think you know how to help me?” he asked.

  A complicated question. But when she was about five, her parents divorced and her father got custody. It was something they said would make everyone happy, and being just a child, she didn’t understand how being separated from her mother would do anything but make her sad. That was the point in her life when she began developing her skills as an actress. Because her father was sad, too. All the time. So she did her best to hide the fact that she missed her mother, instead focusing on being there for her father. His source of cheer. Eventually, her father remarried a nice woman, Lauren, who Sadie and her sister considered to be their mother because Lauren was the one who raised them, cared for them, prepared their lunches, and made their father smile again. Her real mother, though? Who knew? She sent a postcard every few years at first. Sometimes she’d send a book or trinket, but those ended up in the trash. Thinking of her mother only made her feel sad, rejected, though she never let it show. Then after the age of ten, her mother stopped sending anything at all.

  It took her a very, very long time to understand that she had to stop feeling like she’d done something wrong or wasn’t good enough for her mother, but that was how acting had helped. She’d gotten to try on different people and situations, to safely explore her vastly conflicted emotions. It helped her let go and move on.