Sun God Seeks...surrogate? (10 page)

Penelope, maybe now’s not the time to figure it out.

Kinich writhed on the ground.

“Oh hell.” I climbed from the dumpster and rushed to his side. “Are you okay? What’s wrong? How do I help you?”

His anguished expression seemed only to worsen. “Just…ahhhh”—he rolled to his side, then back again—“give me a second.”

“Oh, okay.” My hands hovered over him, eagerly awaiting any instructions.

After a minute, his face relaxed and his breathing steadied. “Help me up.”

“Um—sure.” I stood and latched onto his hand—it was boiling hot—and began pulling him up. With a few awkward grunts and heaves he was up and steadying himself on my shoulders.

“We need to get you somewhere safe,” he said, his voice low and raspy. “More might be coming.”

Demons on whole wheat toast! There are…more?

He yanked me by the hand and started for the nearby street. He muttered something unintelligible under his breath.

“Sorry?” I said.

“Get in.”

Get into what…?

A cab pulled up directly in front of us.

What the…?
“But there were no cars a minute ago. It’s the weirdest goddamned thing…”

Kinich yanked open the door and shoved me in. He quickly gave instructions to the driver and then closed his eyes.

He’s closing his eyes? Of all the possible ways to react to this situation, and this guy wants a nap?

“Would you care for a blankie and a graham cracker?”

He didn’t move an inch.

“Excuse me. But mind telling me…What! The! Hell! Is going on!”

Kinich cracked open one turquoise eye, gave me a “don’t mess with me” look, and then snapped it shut again.

“Excuse me,” I screamed, “I get that whatever happened back there was very rough on you! And that you’re probably suffering from frostbite on your toes and nipples”—
look at that chest. Holy shit, he’s so damned built
—“but I just had some Medusa-haired monster who smelled like cooked innards show up to my apartment to kill me.”

“He wasn’t there to kill you,” Kinich interrupted. “Not yet, anyway.”

“Thanks. Thanks for removing the turd from my punch bowl. But it still smells like shi—”

“Penelope!” His eyes snapped open. “Please be silent. I am trying to think.”

How. Dare. He!
I poked his bare arm—
oh…so strong
. “Don’t you ever talk to me like that again. Do you hear me?”

He sighed. “Damned humans. Never listen.” He focused in on my eyes. “Sleep, Penelope. Sleep.”

Like I’d been hypnotized into thinking that was exactly what I wanted to do, my eyes closed and my brain slipped into the abyss.

CHAPTER 11

“Not going to happen, buddy,” barked Andrus through the cracked door. “I already have two females to look after. And what the hell happened to your clothes?”

“Who needs clothes when you’re as hot as me,” Kinich replied with a grin. Holding Penelope in his arms made him feel like a dopey kid with a new shiny toy. “Now open the door.”

Andrus began shutting it instead.

Kinich shoved his bare foot in the opening and then pushed his shoulder into the door, careful not to crush Penelope.

Andrus stumbled back several feet. “Gods dammit! Goddamned gods never goddamn listen!”

Kinich marched through the living room, making a beeline to the guest quarters. “You know that makes no sense. We cannot damn ourselves. And just be grateful; not only am I in a good mood, I’ve got an important meeting tonight. Otherwise, I’d stick around merely to fuck with you,” he called out as he disappeared down the hallway.

Kinich stopped at the second set of doors and pushed. Like the rest of Niccolo and Helena’s lavish penthouse overlooking Central Park, the furniture was modern and white. The only splash of color came from the red pillows on the large king-size bed in the middle of the room.

He was about to set Penelope on top of the pristine white comforter but realized she was covered head to toe in…

He took a whiff and winced. “She smells like rotten cabbage.” He glimpsed at the doorway that led to the private bath, then cast his gaze on Penelope. He wondered, would she mind? He’d already seen her excruciatingly sumptuous, nude body.

You may have done more than that.
He would give anything to remember what had occurred that evening. Unrelenting images hounded him day and night: Penelope’s naked, sweaty body pinned beneath him as he pumped his hard cock inside her, lost in her smell, her groans, her moist heat. A heat that had matched his own in every way—something he’d never fathomed. He’d been obsessed with seeing her again for that very reason.

Kinich began to grow hard.

Gods be damned!

“Down boy.”

In any case, once he got a hold of Cimil, he would decapitate her for her little prank. Idiot. Sex with mortals and having offspring were not recreational activities—okay, perhaps the sex part was, but not the procreation. Definitely not that.

Thank heavens Penelope had not conceived. Not that he knew for certain if they’d had sex, but she’d removed the black jade necklace the morning after their night together. To be clear, he had nothing against children. In fact, the notion of being a father delighted him. It was one of the many aspects of human life for which the gods had been deprived. But his wants and desires were simply not on the table, and the matter boiled down to one truth: The universe demanded balance; it constantly strived for it. Life could not exist without it.

This was his belief, and he needed only to observe the world around him to see the evidence—the changing of the seasons, the food chain, Newton’s Laws of Motion. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.

Balance.

This meant that for each Payal created, the universe would create a counterbalance—something dark, something evil. And, as of late, evil had been busy. The Maaskab had been honing their skills, amplifying their powers. They could send the universe into a tailspin of self-destruction if they were allowed the upper hand for even one second.

Not on my fucking watch. Not even for…her.

No. He would not deny he wanted Penelope or that he eagerly wished to understand what drove his bottomless craving for the mortal’s body. But there was no endgame, and he knew it.

Mortals belonged with mortals. Gods belonged alone. That was the natural order.

But still, you can’t deny you want—you need—just one more taste…or…a first taste?

He lay Penelope on the thick, cream-colored carpet next to the bed and began untying her boots. They were thick and clunky with a fur lining. He half expected her to have on wool socks, but as he slipped them off, he saw she wore none. Her little toes were raw and frozen.

He clasped both hands around her delicate foot and directed warmth into each cell. The circulation quickly returned.

He continued rubbing her toes and noticed they were painted pink.

Hmm. What sort of underwear might she have on? Would they match?

He beheld Penelope’s serene face. She looked stunning lying there with her dark hair fanned out on the floor. And her pink, heart shaped lips…he couldn’t forget their taste or silky texture. He wondered how they might feel if she ran them over the tip of his pulsing, hard—

“Nick! What do you think you’re doing to that girl? And what the hell happened to your clothes?”

Helena stood behind him with one fist parked on her hip. Her golden spirals were piled into a ponytail atop her head, and ribbons of black swirled in her bright blue eyes.

She was pissed.

And considering she was wife to the most powerful and feared ex-vampire ever to exist—Niccolo DiConti—meant she was one tough cookie. Thank goodness Niccolo and Helena were good friends of his.

Kinich stood and beamed at his prize, Penelope. “My clothes are resting comfortably back in my hotel room. As for her, I was merely going to bathe her. Then perhaps rub her down with scented oils.”

“Oh no you won’t. I’m not letting you take advantage of some poor unconscious girl. Not in my house,” she scolded.

Kinich grumbled. “She is far from being a ‘girl,’ and I was planning to behave like a perfect gentlemen.”

Sorta.

Helena wagged her finger. “Uh-uh. Unless she’s written a note specifying you as her official spokesperson or personal bather, you’re not touching her. What the hell happened, anyway? Is she hurt? She’d better not be.”

“She was attacked, but is uninjured. I thought she could do with some rest so I voiced her. Should wear off in about an hour. Or twenty. I’m not sure; I was a bit distracted.”

“I don’t like the sound of this. Attacked by whom?”

Kinich didn’t wish to see Helena’s face when he spoke the words, so he focused on the ceiling instead. “A Maaskab.”

“Oh shit!” Helena cupped her hands over her mouth and then whispered, “ Maaskab? Here in New York?”

Kinich nodded.

“Does Niccolo know?”

“Not yet,” he replied. “I planned to call after I tend to Penelope, a task I am greatly looking forward to. So if you do not mind—”

“Oh no no, señor! I’ll take over from here. You go call the General. This minute!”

Helena grabbed Kinich’s arm and urged him toward the door. “Use the phone in the study. Dial pound three.”

“But—”

“Stop acting like someone took your favorite new car, you big baby.”

But that’s exactly how he felt. He growled, “Okay. But, no biting.”

“Out! I can handle her myself!”

About one year ago, Helena, who’d been told by Cimil she was going to die saving Niccolo, cheated death by becoming a vampire. And for an added fun twist, Niccolo had been unknowingly turned from a vampire into a demigod—compliments of Cimil. They now had a baby girl, little Matty, who was half vampire.

He shook his head.
Soon we’re going to need a species scoreboard to keep track of this mess.

Especially since Cimil seemed to delight in turning people’s lives upside down. Her guise of “Hey! Just keeping the wheels on the universe’s bus,” really meant…
I’m so bored! Let me entertain myself by watching some poor souls jump through hoop after hoop, only to find their darkest fears become reality. And if they don’t play nice, I’ll turn them into an insect with irritable bowel syndrome.

Sure, it was fun to watch when Cimil’s victim was some vile filth and phlegm of humanity—a rapist or thug—but sometimes she went too far to prove a point. It was only a matter of time before the universe invoked another law of balance: karma. Payback would be a substantial bitch for someone like Cimil.

Helena’s hissing snapped him back from his vengeful thoughts. “Just because
you
don’t know the meaning of restraint, doesn’t mean I don’t. Besides, I only like nibbling on my hubby, Niccolo.” She licked her lips. “But if you don’t do as I say, I could be persuaded to try a new flavor. You’d be surprised how hungry I get on this new blood-only diet”—she stepped forward parting her lips—“and I bet a full-fledged god tastes pretty damn good.”

Kinich backed away toward the door. “I am told my blood is very spicy. Fire hot, actually. You would not enjoy it.” He regarded Penelope once again, taking in her beauty. “I leave her in your care, but if a hair on her head is—”

“You
really
like her, don’t you?” Helena’s jaw dropped.

Frankly, he wasn’t sure what he felt. It was all very…foreign.

“I’m a god,” he replied. “We’re hardwired to care for humans.”

“Sure. Right. I saw that look.” Helena shut the bedroom door in his face.

Sulking, Kinich marched into Niccolo’s office and picked up the phone.

General Niccolo answered immediately, “Hi, my sweet. Are you missing me? Because I’m missing not only you, but those silky, soft thighs, too.”

Kinich cleared his throat. “Wow. I’m flattered, but I assure you my thighs are neither silky, nor soft. They are, however, firm, muscular, and untouched by male hands. I intend to keep them that way.”

“Who the fuck is this?” said Niccolo.

“Nick. And before you say any shit you might regret, your wife made me call you.”

“What the fuck for?” Niccolo responded.

“Maaskab attacked my woman,” Nick said, and then rebuked himself instantly. Why the hell had he called Penelope “his woman”?

“A Maaskab? You sure? Wait…You have a woman? Is the end of the world here already?” Niccolo responded.

“Fuck you, Vampire. And yes, I’m sure it was a Scab. I don’t make mistakes, unlike you,” Kinich fired back.

“I’m no longer a vampire, you fuck. And I’d be damned careful with that tone of yours,” Niccolo warned.

“I’m pissing myself, Demigod.” He chuckled. He loved taunting Niccolo and could normally go on for days, but the situation was serious. “I need to find out why they are after her.”

“Can’t help. I’m here with your Uchben, training them on the subtle yet exhilarating art of decapitating sifting Scabs and Obscuros.”

That was the reason he’d wanted to talk to Niccolo in the first place. Normally, Kinich would call on the gods’ human army (and all-around eyes and ears), the Uchben, for this sort of work. But Cimil had recently advised everyone that the kickoff for the Great War grew near. If their side did not win, it would mean the end of civilization as they knew it. The apocalypse.

“Yes. I’m aware the Uchben are occupied. That’s why I’m calling you. I need you to send someone to track down a Maaskab and bring him to me. I will torture the truth from him.”

Niccolo made a deep rumbling sound. “What happened to the one that attacked her?”

“He met with an unfortunate fate.”

“You cooked him, didn’t you? Fucking gods. Will you ever learn? A prisoner is worth more than revenge.”

“The Maaskab caught me off guard—I had no choice,” Kinich lied. He knew he’d had a choice, and he’d chosen to cook the motherfucker for attacking Penelope.

“You could have tried to knock him out,” Niccolo grumbled.

“You going to help me or not?” Kinich said.