Accidentally...Over?: Accidentally Yours 5 (19 page)

Unable to think straight, she’d thrown on her swimsuit and gone down to the beach for a swim. The ocean was always the one place that helped her put everything into perspective. But before she’d made it even twenty feet beyond the shoreline, an enormous wave crashed over her. The undertow drew her down to the rocky ocean bottom. When she opened her eyes again, that man’s face, the enormous mercenary-looking dude with the dark cropped hair, hovered over her, smiling as if he’d won some prize. She’d never felt so strange in her entire life. Her body buzzed and tingled as if she was soaking in a tub full of warm, electrified seltzer water. No, it didn’t hurt. It felt kind of nice. Even nicer when Máax’s strong arms scooped her up and held her tightly to his chest, thanking the Universe for allowing her to live.

Yes, she’d get to live another day. Maybe. But now she wanted a whole mess of days. She wanted the dream, a life with Máax. She couldn’t get enough of him or their connection.

The wailing and grumbling continued to echo through her house. She slipped on her red robe and staggered her way toward the disturbance. When she got to the doorway between the kitchen and living room, she saw that enormous man who’d saved her pinned to the floor, his arms and fists flying toward something invisible.

Máax!
“What the hell is going on?” she mumbled.

The man froze and looked up at her. He threw Máax off.

“Ashli. You are awake,” Máax said. “You should not be up. Please return to your bed, and I will bring you a meal.”

“No. I will bring it to her.” Brutus scrambled to his feet.

Máax replied, “Over my dead—”

Brutus lunged for Máax, but instead of attacking, he hugged him tightly. Ashli wanted to comment on the situation (Brutus hugging an empty space in front of him), but she was stunned into silence. After all, Máax was naked…
Awkward!

“Get the hell off me!” Máax pushed him away. “What’s gotten into you?”

Brutus looked like he’d been hit in the head with a stupid branch. “I, uuuh—I don’t know, actually. I feel sort of… strange.”

So did she, actually. Then Ashli felt the room spin and her knees giving out. She landed with a crash on her small coffee table.

“Ashli!”

The taste of blood filled her mouth.

“Ashli? Dammit, woman.” Máax’s hot hands ran over the side of her head and then popped open her mouth.

“Brutus, get me a towel from the kitchen and some ice.”

The man returned quickly. Máax placed the plastic bag of ice against her jaw and the towel in her mouth.

It stung like hell. “Owwww.”

“Let me take a look.” Máax pulled the towel away for a moment and sighed. “You cracked a tooth.”

Great. Just what she needed.

Máax carried Ashli back to her bed and lay her down. In that brief moment, holding her in his arms, he realized this wasn’t going to work. If he wanted to keep her alive, he’d have to do something drastic. He’d have to go against Cimil’s instructions.

Which means the prophecy will go unfulfilled.
But if he did nothing, she’d continue dying over and over again, in which case the prophecy was void anyway. Yes, he had to take action, which meant doing the only thing he could: make the best of it.

He beamed down at Ashli and then kissed the top of her head. “I’ll be back in one moment.” He pulled a grinning, googly-eyed Brutus into the hallway. What was with this guy? He looked like he’d been smoking something.

“She needs a dentist,” Máax whispered.

“There is one in town. I will send for him,” Brutus replied all too eager to help.

“Do you not see the complication?” Máax asked.

Brutus rubbed his jaw. “I am not a fan of visiting the dentist, but even for immortals, clean teeth and healthy gums are simply a part of life. I am sure Ashli will survive.”

“No, you asshole. They will need to anesthetize her.”

Brutus lifted a brow.

“It’s another disaster waiting to happen; I am convinced that Death is after her.”

“Death? You mean Cimil?” Brutus whispered.

“No. Death is not a deity. It is a force that maintains the fragile balance in the world. The planet can only sustain so many lives at any given time.”

Brutus’s eyes lit with panic. “Why does it want Ashli?”

“How the hell should I know? I’m a god. But clearly, she is at risk unless we remove the chess piece from the board.”

“Meaning?” Brutus asked.

“Ashli cannot stay here. I’m taking her forward.”

“Did you not just tell me that Cimil gave you specific instructions to leave Ashli in her own time? Because I think you should leave her here with me. I will brush her hair and paint her toenails. I will call her Princess Sweetie Pie.”

Huh?
“Brutus, are you on any medication? Medication you may have forgotten to take?” Of course, that couldn’t be right; Brutus was immortal, a gift granted by Máax’s brother Votan who’d handpicked Brutus to be next in line for Uchben chief. Not only was the soldier tough as nails, but also he never got sick.

Brutus’s smiled melted away, and his rigid demeanor returned. “Uhhh, I’m not sure why I said that.”

“And I’m not sure what is going on with you, but I do not have time for this awkward frolic through the land of Brutus’s disturbingly sweet alter ego. I must get Ashli out of here before something else happens.”

“Didn’t Cimil tell you,” Brutus argued, “that if you remove Ashli from her time that she wouldn’t fulfill her destiny of stopping the apocalypse?”

Yes, but he’d have to find another solution. For gods’
sake, it wasn’t as if this was their first apocalyptic face-off. Of course, they’d never cut it so close before. Or had mother earth counted down with earthquakes as if this were some New Year’s Eve shindig.

Máax straightened his spine.
Doesn’t matter.
His mind was made up.

“Brutus, I want you to make sure the Uchben look after her home, café, and any other assets. She is to be given the same treatment as one of the gods. Do you understand? I want our best asset management and investment team—”

“I can protect her. Leave her here with me.” Brutus’s eyes flickered with frustration.

What had gotten into this man? It was as if Brutus were possessed by a crazy, stupid, asshole.

“Brutus, if you have miraculously developed feelings for her over the course of a few hours, I can only offer my apologies. I am her mate. She will never want another.”

Máax returned to Ashli’s bedroom with Brutus on his heels. “Ashli, we are leaving.” He sat next to her on the bed, pained by his memories of seeing her dead. Yes, he would find a way to make this work.

Still holding the towel to her face, she asked, “Whe aw we gawing?”

“As you’re already aware, Death is after you, seeking to balance out the equation,” he guessed, but really didn’t know what Death wanted. He’d never seen it target an individual in such a way. The entire thing was very, very odd.

“Annn wha?” she asked.

“And I am going to take you forward in time. I can only hope that removing you from the current situation will prompt Death to seek balance elsewhere.”

“Woo mean dat he wiw kill someone ews?”

Yes, Death would likely find another person to take her place. But that couldn’t be helped. “That someone else will eventually die anyway. You, on the other hand, are meant to live. Forever if I can help it.”

Forever.

Yes. That was it! Why had he not thought of the solution before?
Because now your bond with the Universe is severed. You’re able to put Ashli first.

And that he would. For the first time in his existence, Máax would live up to his bad boy reputation, not because he felt compelled by the Universe to serve justice, but because he selfishly wanted something: to give Ashli immortality.

In this time, 1993, it wasn’t possible because the cenotes—portals to the realm of the gods—were blocked by the Maaskab’s evil magic. (A long, long, long story.) But that little nuisance would be resolved, and the cenotes twenty years into the future worked fine, which meant Máax could take Ashli to his world. He could give her the immortal light of the gods. No dentist, no more spontaneous bee assassinations, no drowning. Of course, that meant he’d have to break two more sacred laws, but hey…

YOLO, motherfucker. YOLO.

Ashli tensed.

“What is the matter?” he asked.

“I don wan someone ews to die fow me,” she mumbled.

Oh, infernum.
Why didn’t she understand? “Ashli, I promise that your leaving will not trigger Death to go out and murder someone; it will simply move on to its next target, to a person whose time it is anyway. You save no one by staying here. Please. Let us try my solution.”

She glanced out the window, mulling.

“I want you to live,” he added. “I want to give you a chance to know happiness.”
Even if it’s only for a few short months. Damned apocalypse.
“Please trust me; this is the only way. If you stay here, you won’t survive another day. I feel it in my immortal bones.”

She sighed and then nodded her head in agreement.

“I’m glad,” he said, “that you see the logic. Now, it is time for us to leave.”

“But wa about my toot?” she asked.

“We will fix your toot—I mean, tooth—when we arrive,” he said.

“I don know. Aw you sure it’s safe? Everyting is happening so fawst.”

“Fast? No.” He picked up her free hand and kissed the top. “I realize now that I have waited seventy thousand years for you. It is not fast enough.” Gods only knew what Death had in store for her next. A rabid turtle? An angry coconut?

“I don wanna weave hew,” Ashli said.

“I’m sorry,” Máax said, “but staying is not a choice. We are leaving. Now.”

“You heard her, Máax.” Brutus’s menacing voice sliced through the air like a hot blade. “She doesn’t want to go with you.”

“Stay out of this, Brutus,” Máax warned.

Ashli sat up, still pushing the towel to her mouth. “Why? He saved my wife. I twust him. I want to hear what he has to say.” She looked directly at Brutus.

“Tell her the truth, Máax,” Brutus pushed. “Tell her what will happen if you take her forward.”

Dammit, man.
What was his problem? Máax knew he’d figure all this out. Later, of course. And simply because Cimil said that something bad would happen
didn’t mean it was true. Cimil lied 50 percent of the time. No, generally she didn’t lie about prophecies and such, but Máax had always followed his gut. He’d always done what he felt was right and had faith that the Universe would take care of the rest. So far, so good.

Really, man? You’re invisible. Powerless. An outcast.

Okay. Fuck the Universe.
This was pure selfishness. He wanted to save Ashli because it would make him happy. Yes, let his brethren figure out how to save the world for once. He was through sacrificing everything for them and everyone else. Enough was enough.

“Tell her,” Brutus prodded, “what will happen if you take her forward with you.”

Ashli blinked expectantly, her gaze toggling between Brutus and Máax’s… well, his neck really. “What will happen?”

The truth nearly bubbled from Máax’s lips, but then something clicked. Something a tad sinister.

He’d never lied. Not once in his entire existence. Telling the truth was simply who he was. Even after being stripped of his powers, he’d never so much as tested the waters or second-guessed the value of the truth. The truth—speaking it, exposing it to light, knowing when he was in its absence—was simply who he was. But now, everything hung in the balance. If he did not lie to her, she would stay. She would die. He simply couldn’t have that.

So now the filthy, nasty question stared him down, challenging him like an outlaw from the Old West, daring him to reach for his gun. Was he brave enough to pull the trigger? Could he lie, thereby sacrificing himself, the essence of who he truly was, to save her?

Draw.

Máax cleared his throat. “I do not know what Brutus speaks of.”

Brutus made a strange sound somewhere between a growl and a gasp. “I can’t believe it. You’re lying. You just told me that Cimil gave you strict instructions to leave her here.”

“Máax? Is it twue?” she asked.

Máax swallowed. “No. Brutus is mistaken. I said no such thing.” The lie felt like a tiny burr sticking inside his brain. It had been so easy to tell. Much too easy. But he instantly knew he’d never forget it.

Brutus’s jaw dropped. “He—he’s lying. I don’t fucking believe it.”

“But isn’t Máax incapable of wying?” Ashli argued.

Brutus ran his hands though his dark, short hair. “Well—well—yes, but.…”

Ashli shook her head. “I don’t know whath’s going on between you thwo, but—”

“Ashli,” Máax said, “it is quite simple; you will die if you stay here. If you come with me, I can fix this.”

“But wha about my houws? My café?” She continued holding a corner of the towel to her mouth.

“Everything will be waiting for you”—he hoped—“only it will be twenty years into the future. Brutus will see to everything. Isn’t that right, Brutus?”

Brutus still looked like he’d been run over by a bus, a giant bus of festering lies. “Yes, but—”