Vampires Need Not...Apply

Chapter Veinte

“Save me, Antonio. You must hurry. Time is almost out.”

“I’m trying, but I can’t find you.” Antonio scoured the empty, dark room with his hands. “Please, tell me who you are.”

“You cannot allow distractions to come between us, Antonio, between our destiny,” the woman’s angry voice echoed in his head. “You must stay away from the goddess.”

“I don’t understand. Why?”

“I speak the truth.” Two wide eyes the color of a tropical ocean plowed through his mind. “Even the stars and the moon know I speak the truth—”

Antonio’s lids flew open, and he braced himself on the arms of the airplane seat.

Diablos! Now his dreams were mad at him, too? And the odd part was that the woman had never said anything about Ixtab before. Why would she be telling him to stay away?

Perhaps she is jealous. Perhaps she knows the goddess is nothing but trouble. Hell, a person only had to get within a mile of Ixtab to see that. One thing was certain, if he didn’t set the mystery woman free soon, he would go mad. First, whether he liked it or not, he had to deal with a very irate, deadly goddess who happened to wield the power of… natural seasoning?

He shook his head and glanced at his watch. There was still one hour until touchdown.

He pulled the folded list from his pocket and stared at it with utter disgust. This immortal groveling had to be a joke.

Then again, from what little he knew, deities were the epitome of bizarre as were the vampires they mingled with. He felt like he’d been thrust into a modern episode of the Addams Family—Ixtab being Morticia, of course.

Does that make you Gomez?

Caray. Antonio shook it off and went back to the list. Joder. This wasn’t right. I cannot do these things. I cannot.

You must, you idiot. There is no other choice. Especially given the timing of the accident. He couldn’t get that moment out of his mind, the way she’d touched his body and pressed herself to his back. Her heat, the sexual tension she created and then released with the mere stroke of her fingertips.

Antonio shifted in his seat, recalling how she’d grazed the tip of his cock with her hand.

He adjusted his throbbing erection and looked down at it. “Don’t you have something else to do?” He’d tried several times to relieve the ache himself, but that only made him think of Ixtab, which only made his cock harder.

Shit. What was happening to him? First blind, then he’d died and turned into a vampire, and now he was addicted to this goddess—who, he might add, wore a very unattractive outfit to hide herself and might actually look like a gremlin. What else could possibly get in the way of fulfilling his destiny and opening the portal?

How about killing Ixtab and immortal groveling?

“What. The. Hell!!” Ixtab exploded from the cenote, her brand-new body nude, dripping wet, and trembling with anger. She was tempted to go back to her realm just to torment the vampire—from there she could use the full array of her powers to rain a fury of hell on his immortal ass—but nothing felt more satisfying than delivering justice in person. And justice there would be. Because no one, and she meant no one, snubbed her out like that. She’d opened herself to him, showed him comfort, she’d worshipped his body! And what was his response? He killed her! A vampire actually knocked her block off.

The cloudless evening sky burst with a round of violent thunder and rattled the jungle with its tremors.

Ixtab scaled the deeply cracked wall of the slick, algae-covered cenote and balanced on the edge. She squeezed the stale water from her long dark hair while glaring at the squawking toucans above. “You think this is funny?” She looked out into the dark jungle. A hard wind whipped through the air. “This is war. And the vampire’s gonna pay.”

Ixtab marched forward and tripped over something large, landing with a face-plant in the moist, leaf-covered dirt. She flipped on her bare bottom and sat up. There, in a standard grovel position with his face pointed toward the ground and arms extended straight forward, was a large man dressed in black leather pants and white tee. A lone shopping bag from Nordstrom sat on the ground to his side.

Well, look what the undead cat dragged in. “Antoniooo,” she growled.

“Yes, goddess. I have come to throw myself—” He paused and fumbled with a sheet of paper in his hand, sliding it under his face without lifting his head. “I throw myself at your mercy and ask your forgiveness. To atone for my grave error, I have brought you this gift of fresh clothing and have prepared to make the appropriate sacrifices and offerings.” He paused again and glanced at the paper. “Oh Divine One.”

What the pita chips? Ixtab marched over and swiped the bag. “No peeking.” She slipped on the black dress—a nice little soft and stretchy cotton number that was straight all the way down and slightly formfitting—and a soft silk black veil that hit right beneath her chin. This was a definite upgrade from her usual punishing outfit reminiscent of a widowed Italian grandmother, straight from the back pew of the Godfather. But given the circumstances, she would wear the offering gladly. Better than traipsing around the jungle with her rear end hanging out. Although she did have a fabulous rear. Stonehenge, after all, had been erected in its honor.

Now, as for this unexpected display of groveling…

“What gives, vampire?”

“What do you mean, Oh Divine One?” he asked.

She narrowed her eyes. “Get up. Tell me why you’re here and why I shouldn’t smash you into a thousand bits with my pinkie.” As if she could. Compared to the other gods or a vampire like Antonio, she was as physically strong as a chicken. With the flu.

Antonio unfolded himself and rose to his feet, causing Ixtab to nearly fall off hers. In his snug black leather pants—oooh, triple stitching. Nice—and white tee stretching across his thick, muscular chest and upper arms, he looked like a god—only a very sexy version. Gods weren’t that sexy in her mind—too perfect. But Antonio’s towering height; deeply entrenched, raw masculinity; rolls of manly muscles; and hard, deep green eyes were more divine than any male walking the earth. Oh yes. If he were a deity, this man would have a pyramid built in his honor. Maybe two.

She cleared her throat. “Had a little makeover, did you?”

Antonio ran his large hand through his wild, short hair. “Penelope insisted I cut my hair on the way to the airport.” His icy gaze fixed on Ixtab’s breasts, which were prominently displayed via the low-cut neckline and snug fabric. “To please you,” he added with a deep voice that held a hint of an itch. An itch Ixtab wanted to scratch.

Bahhh… Ixtab’s insides nearly liquefied.

Wait, he killed you. And by now, all of your brethren will know about it—damn that Twitter. You will endure a good solid five hundred years of taunting after being taken down by a vampire’s elbow. Stupid, icky vampire! I will squash you for this!

She didn’t know what stung more, the humiliation or his rejection.

“You came all this way to show me your haircut and bring me a dress? ’Cause if you did, I can tell you right now, it’s not enough.” She raised her hand. What should it be? A hundred year fang-ache? Maybe burn off his arms with a concentrated dose of chili peppers? The arms would grow back. Eventually. And he didn’t really need them to complete his work on the tablet, now did he?

“Whoa!” He held out his hands. “I came to perform the ritual of immortal groveling. That’s why I’m here.”

Immortal groveling? Ugh. That was so last baktun. That stale, old ritual was Fate’s idea and entailed nothing more than sacrificing a large animal in the deity’s name, followed by a feast of the god’s favorite dishes. Ixtab didn’t even like meat. Unless you counted vampire ass as meat.

“And in exchange for your forgiveness and leniency, I will…” Again he glanced at his paper.

Ixtab swiped it from his hands and read the list.

1. You will wash the goddess’s feet, rub them with essential oils, kiss her toes, and then paint them pink.

2. At no time during the period of groveling, will you wear a shirt or call her by name. “Oh Divine One” shall be used.

3. You will prepare her favorite dish, and when you serve her, you will walk only on your knees.

4. You will write and recite a poem about the smallness and insignificance of your manhood while belly dancing with a sword balanced on your head.

5. And finally, you will offer your body to the goddess for a night of pleasure.

6. If by dawn you have not pleased her, you are to offer your pancreas.

She could scarcely contain her laughter. This sounded like the groveling ritual Cimil had proposed way back—minus the clown flogging and unicorn rodeo. It had gotten Ixtab’s vote—minus the clown flogging—but Fate had convinced everyone to take the high road. Piff! Fate… such a goody-goody.

“Who gave this sacred ritual to you?” Ixtab asked in her most serious voice.

Antonio bowed his head. “Penelope and Kinich. They said if I did not come in person and do these”—he swallowed something sticking in his throat. Perhaps his pride?—“things, that you would unleash a global plague or famine.”

Oh no. She had no intention of doing that. Not that she ever would. On purpose, anyway. Well, there’d be no accidental disasters today. Whatever public shame she would endure for being whacked by a lowly creature of the night would be well worth it; watching Antonio humiliate himself was going to be fun. Payback is such a… well, I’m not a bitch. But the argument has been made that I am cold, reckless, and deadly. Creadly? Yes, that’s it. Payback is a creadly.

“I’ll think about not smiting humanity. Now, get to the groveling!” she barked.

Antonio bowed his head and gestured with his arm. “This way, Oh Divine One. I have a Jeep waiting for you down the path.”

Ixtab smiled and sauntered past, but then her smiled turned to a frown. What would she do when he got to number five?

Oh, Ixtab. What the hell are you talking about? He’s an icky vampire. As if he could ever tempt you.

Yes. But he’s a sexy, icky vampire I can touch and who makes me… tingle. The urge to touch him was suddenly overwhelming. Maybe the joke was on her.

Panic, fear, and anger set in. Panic, because she was in new territory. What if he really offered himself to her? She’d never been with anyone, and he was quite experienced. Fear, because she realized how much the idea pleased her. Anger, because any advance on his part would not be genuine. He’d been tricked into it, believing that having sex with her would avert a global catastrophe.

Well, she wouldn’t accept his offer. She was too good to take a peace-offering sex handout from an icky vampire. She was a goddess. An ancient, immortal soul of divine origin. That’s right. She was like royalty of the Universe.

Who really, really wants to be liked for being herself.

You idiot! You sound like some mortal teenager pining for captain of the football team.

She gave herself a mental flogging. It didn’t do the trick; she still wanted him. And wanted him to want her back.

Oh, boy, I’m in trouble…

Which meant so was he. Everyone knew Ixtab was bad news. Creadly…

Antonio felt uneasy. Extremely uneasy. At first, because he wasn’t sure what the deadly goddess might do to him. But then… he’d seen the goddess naked. He didn’t mean to look, but when she fell, he’d stolen a glance of her body—sleek, muscular, tanned, and curvy—laid out on the ground. Gods save him. At least he hadn’t seen her front. That ass was enough to push him over the edge of sanity. Smooth golden skin over two perfectly shaped mounds with a crease cutting across the tops of her back thighs, separating those silky legs from that blissful ass. Oh, gods, there was no way she could be a monster.

Could she? Or had she lied about the reason she covered her face?

Santa Maria. If only he hadn’t killed her, he would have seen what hid behind the curtain.

Yes, coño, then you wouldn’t be with her now. And whether he liked to admit it or not, a tiny part of him felt insanely satisfied to be near her, the two of them alone, to see her alive and well and full of her usual piss and vinegar.

Santos, the woman is death personified. He and death had a long, long history. The take away? Not the best of amigos. Nor would they ever be. Lately it seemed that fate had it out for him. First by making him a vampire, which he was determined to not let change who he fundamentally was at his innermost core and deter him from fulfilling his destiny, and then by tempting him with the female who not only killed, but also seemed to enjoy it on some level.

Perhaps you are overthinking the situation. She does not reciprocate any sexual desires you have for her. Or, should I say, if she had any, that is now over.

In fact, what started out as a very successful groveling ritual had turned down a dark, murky path filled with cobweb-covered potholes, rotting vegetation, and venomous snakes. Ixtab’s disposition, for no apparent reason, shifted from mild irritation to outright hostility the moment they got into the Jeep.

The night now set upon them, he shifted gears into second and wound down the dirt road through thick, impenetrable jungle as the GPS instructed. He’d been told by Penelope that everything would be waiting for them upon their arrival. The Uchben had a garrison nearby and would see to it that the lakeside villa was cleaned, stocked, and ready for them.

He pulled into the gravel driveway lined with tiki torches. Unable to drive any farther, Antonio turned off the engine, but didn’t dare look at the goddess in her tight black dress. Who knew how much longer his leather pants would hold? “Guess we’re here.”

“Great. I love walking barefoot. If I’m lucky, I’ll find a nice juicy slug or scorpion to greet my toes.”

Caray. He knew he’d forgotten something: her flip-flops. He’d left them on the plane. Ironically, she liked her flip-flops loud and sparkly. Who would have guessed?

He turned off the headlights. “I planned to carry you, Oh Divine One,” he whispered. “Your feet”—which I’m about to scrub like a lowly servant—“should not touch the ground.”

Ixtab turned his way. “Piggyback? You expect me to ride piggyback on an icky vampire?” she spat.

This groveling crap was awful. An insult to every molecule of testosterone in his body. If it wasn’t for the fact that he’d hurt her while she was rubbing the tip of his—

He cleared his mind. Don’t think of it. Don’t think of it… His erection had finally abated, and gods only knew how long that would last.

“Yes, Oh Divine One,” he replied. “You will ride me.” Christ. Did I really just say that? “I meant, piggyback, of course.”

“Ugh! Fine.” She opened her door and turned away, waiting for him to pick her up from the passenger side.

He exited the vehicle with a sigh, walked to her side, and turned his back to her. “Get on.”

“Get on?”

“Oh Divine One,” he added.

First, he felt Ixtab’s hands clutch his shoulders. Next, her body slammed into his, and she wrapped her legs around his waist.

He quickly braced himself against the Jeep and held back a lusty groan. Gods be damned, the sensation of this goddess touching his body was torture. And beyond any pleasure he’d ever known. The mere feel of her breasts pressed against his back was enough to make him bust his zipper again. Thank gods he wore his new leather pants with the triple stitch.

“You okay, vampire?” Ixtab whispered in his ear with a breath that heated his lobe and shot right down to his shaft. “Or am I too much for you to handle?”

He gave his head a little shake, righted himself, and stood straight. “No. Just fine, Oh Divine One.” He sucked in a lungful of restraint and marched down the torch-lit path, trying to think of anything but Ixtab’s body—her most intimate parts included—pushed against him. No, he would not think about the fact that her dress was hiked up well past her upper thighs and she wore no panties. He would not think about how her voluptuous breasts jiggled against his shoulder blades with each step or how the silky skin of her arms and legs rubbed against his new, overly sensitive vampire skin and filled him with a euphoria that could only be described as the world’s most addictive supernatural narcotic, which took away his hunger along with his darkest thoughts and filled him with strength.

Oh, gods. He suddenly found himself fiercely desiring step number five—offering himself for a night of pleasure—which scared the hell out of him. For starters, Ixtab’s sister had said she was a monster. So what sort of face truly lay beneath that veil? If her lips were any indication, she had to be beautiful.

But the sister hadn’t said, “She’s a little homely and might someday grow out of it.” No. She’d said, “monster,” which meant heinous. Repugnant. Shockingly ugly. Did Ixtab’s face reflect images of the thousands of souls she’d taken? Or perhaps her features were marred with a horrid disfigurement. Why else would she want to hide it? Surely shame wasn’t the real answer. Second, despite what his rock solid dick said, his heart knew what it felt. He believed in fate and having a destiny; his destiny was opening that portal. His destiny was… her—the woman from his dreams. He could feel it with every fiber of his being, and with each passing minute, he knew only holding her, saving her, taking away her pain would bring peace.

To prove his point, Antonio closed his eyes for a moment and instantly heard her words filled with desperation, “The stars and the moon know I’m telling you the truth. Why won’t you listen, Antonio? Stay away from her…” Then those haunting eyes stared back at him from the walls of his eyelids.

His raging of lust instantly abated. That’s right, idiota. Now think about the weather—or… fucking stars and the moon! Whatever it takes to get on with this night, so you can continue your work.

Whatever happened, he needed to ensure the goddess would not accept any offers of pleasure for the evening. Not that it should be a problem; she already thought of him as a despicable creature. She’d said so herself numerous times. Her earlier actions prior to the accident must have simply been one of her evil tricks intended to torture him. That’s right. She admitted she enjoyed watching others suffer, watching him suffer. She’d likely intended to work him into a sexual lather and then skip away. And he would not allow himself to fall for that trick again. No matter what his body said.

“The place is an improvement over the New York winter weather, is it not, goddess?” He glanced up at the brilliant, starlit, tropical sky. Gorgeous. “Reminds me of the night with your sister.”

She dug her heels into his sides like a rider spurring a belligerent horse.

“Ow. What was that for?” he asked.

“You spent the night with my sister?” she growled. “Which one? Fate?”

She had a sore spot for her sister, did she? He made a mental note—could come in handy later. “Your sister Cimil, actually. We spent a very… interesting evening in Mexico together when I found the tablet.” Yes, it had been interesting. And by interesting, he meant disturbing. She continually rambled on and on about the understated joy of treasure hunting at garage sales. Then she froze in midsentence and made little circles with her hips as if spinning an invisible Hula-Hoop. He juddered.

“Oh. Cimil.” Ixtab’s killer heel grip relaxed.

Apparently she didn’t see Cimil as a threat. Another mental note.

After several minutes of marching down the narrow path lined with thick-leaved plants and small torches, they arrived at an arched entryway with a wrought iron gate. He set the goddess down and tried to ignore how she felt when she slid down his back.

He pulled out his sheet of paper and punched in the code. The gate unlatched, and he pushed. Inside was a lush garden, spacious courtyard with an illuminated fountain, small fire pit, and soft music playing—Spanish guitar—from hidden speakers. He approached the elaborate stained glass front door and entered. It reminded him of his family’s beach home back in Spain. Warm sandstone-colored tile, wide-open living room leading out to what appeared to be a long torch-lit dock, and an indoor fire pit in the middle of the room with a giant stainless steel extractor. The muggy tropical air wasn’t the least bit cold, but the fire looked warm and inviting nonetheless.

Antonio glanced over his shoulder at Ixtab. Weather, weather, weather. Think weather. Think of the woman in your dreams. Think stars and moon. Think of anything but Ixtab’s smell… “The bedrooms look to be in that direction if you’d like to freshen up.” He nodded to her right.

“Thanks.” She sauntered away but toward the door leading to the dock instead. She slipped her dress over her head, offering him another glimpse of that perfect ass and the unveiled waves of long dark hair flowing down her back.

He sucked in a breath. “Ay, mujer. Que picosa.” This time he looked without shame, drooling over her tanned, perfectly shaped ass and lavishing many impure thoughts upon it. Thoughts involving warm oils and his hands. He made a little groan as she disappeared outside, then adjusted himself. Yes, thank the gods for leather pants and triple stitching.

Why is it, that moments of profound clarity—epiphanies, if you will—come at the most inopportune times? The ride to the villa had been one of those, and now Ixtab needed to think. Really, really think.

She sprinted toward the sanctuary of the cool lake water she’d swum in since she was a mere sprig of goddess one human year old.

The coolness of the fresh water instantly refreshed her bare skin, but she wished it could do more than wash away the stale scent of the cenote on her body. So many years she’d lived. So many damned years watching people evolve. They lived, they loved, they felt pain and triumph, they failed and succeeded. Then they died. The irony was that watching the humans live their lives and the world evolve didn’t make her feel like a part of it. To the contrary, she felt left behind. An outsider. Completely alone. Ultimately, like her brethren, she simply stopped evolving and growing as a living being. What was the point? There was no one to share it with.

One might think having thirteen brothers and sisters for eternity might provide some form of comfort for this. She couldn’t quite call this a life, now could she? During the drive to the villa she realized that “siblings” or not—they weren’t truly related, after all—her seventy thousand years of existence didn’t come close to offering the same amount of joy one human being experienced in a single lifetime because she didn’t have love. Not true love. Not from a man who saw her soul, her light—ominous thunderclouds and rainbows included—and loved her for who she truly was. Thinking about Antonio offering himself to her as part of that stupid prank had made her realize that.

Her head broke through the water’s glassy surface, and she stared up at the stars and the full moon. She sighed and glanced longingly toward the dock of the villa. Creator almighty, she felt drawn to that male, but she didn’t want one night. She didn’t want just sex, even though the newborn possibility of this intrigued her. No. She wanted more. She wanted to be hit over the head in love. She wanted to evolve. She wanted to grow up and then grow old with someone. She wanted to know she was the center of someone’s universe. She wanted… a real life.

Just once. Just once. Just once.

The revelation stunned her. Perhaps because she’d spent an eternity burying these desires. Perhaps because she had spent the last two hundred years punishing herself for Francisco’s death, believing he’d been the one for her. But had he been? What she felt for Antonio was so very, very different. With Francisco, she felt drawn to him, yes. She admired how he held the dying in his arms and showed them selfless compassion. His kindness was what she loved. However, Antonio… Deep breath. Her feeling left her mind and body spinning in a state of utter chaos. She craved him completely. He made her want all of those crazy things she’d never have: love, family, a life together… All of them impossible for someone like her, a goddess who trafficked dark energy.

If only she could change.

You?

Piff! Yeah, right. That’s like asking a skunk to stop stinking. Her role was her role and that was that. It didn’t matter how sad she felt about it.

Then another epiphany hit her like six tons of immortal bricks. Perhaps that was why Antonio was really there: to offer a chance. To prove you are capable of compassion and good, to open the portal and help put the Universe back on its feet. Perhaps he is your… catalyst for change.

“Is he my… spark?” she said quietly under her breath. Why else would the Universe create a man whose destiny was to become a vampire—hearty enough to withstand my touch—who looked like the mortal she once loved. Why else would the Universe throw them into this situation?

No, the thought was silly. The Universe didn’t care about her, she was merely its slave. A slave without the right to hope for anything. Yet she did. Making her a fool. A simple, lonely fool. The resentment threatened to consume her.

She ducked under the water and swam and swam and swam until her humanlike body demanded oxygen, causing her to break the surface.

“Ixtab!” she heard Antonio call, his voice echoing from across the calm waters of the lake. Oh, how she loved the sound of him saying her name. “Ixtab!” he called out again. “Where’d you go?”

She released a long, slow breath and swam toward the dock, the darkness concealing her from his view. “I’m here, vampire. And you are to refer to me as Oh Divine One or have you forgotten?”

He dropped a towel on the dock, grunted, and stormed back inside.

I know how you feel…

Ixtab toweled off and found one of the many well-appointed bathrooms, each furnished with the opulent luxury only the infamous Niccolo DiConti would obsess over. She showered with scented soaps and fruity lavender shampoo, and then blow-dried her waist-length hair, all the while thinking about Antonio and how badly she wanted her assumptions to be true.

And the only way to find out is to speak with him, openly and honestly. Yes, she was not a child. She was a grown goddess, thousands of years old and afraid of nothing.

She entered the attached bedroom—a modern, luxurious suite with the large vampire-sized bed covered with down pillows and white silky sheets. Laid out were several shopping bags. She opened them up and found black dresses and a veil and… a pair of black lace panties?

Penelope must’ve purchased these, because no way had the vampire gone out shopping, but what had Penelope been thinking? Ixtab held up the panties and inspected the miniscule scrap of fabric with curiosity. “How can anyone claim these are underpants?” She threw them over her shoulder. “Might as well go commanda.”

She shrugged on a dress similar to the one she’d worn earlier, only this one was a bit shorter, cutting off right above the knees. Once again, the veil was a sheer, silky black and came down to her chin, not nearly long enough to cover her thick, waist-length tresses.

A heavenly, chocolaty smell saturated her nose, capturing her attention. My favorite dish! Deities didn’t need to eat, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t drop her panties—if she’d worn any—for a chocolate caramel soufflé.

Ixtab found her way to the kitchen and her eyes locked on a shirtless Antonio standing behind the chef’s island among an explosion of mixing bowls and flour. The air whooshed from her lungs as she took in all of his muscled male glory—arms, chest, and neck lightly dusted with cocoa powder.

His olive-green eyes flickered with the unmistakable look of… hunger?

He then grumbled and dropped to his knees. All but his thick head of dark, messy hair disappeared behind the chef’s island. “Ready for the ritual to commence, goddess?” he growled.

She snickered. Oh, this groveling would be the death of his poor male ego. Good. That’ll teach the beautiful man to crack my neck. He should learn to be more gentle.

Even though she’d already forgiven him. “You may rise, Antonio,” she conceded.

She blinked and he was standing again.

“Ah. I see you are beginning to master your speed,” she said.

His eyes set firmly on her. “But not my strength, so you might want to avoid standing behind me. Or anywhere near me.”

That wasn’t what she wanted. At all. In fact, far too much time had passed since she’d touched him and now the craving gnawed at her.

Barefoot, she sauntered over, cleared a small spot on the counter, jumped up, and took a seat. “You’ll have to be more careful then, won’t you?” she said, facing him directly.

He shook his head and crossed his brawny arms over his perfect chest. Ixtab ogled him shamelessly. His skin—smooth, firm, and tan—with endless cords of muscles looked so inviting. Yes, it had been far too long since she’d touched him. She ached for that euphoric pulse of energy rushing through her veins. She realized how truly addicted to him she’d become, but somehow, that only excited her all the more. She loved the feeling of their powerful connection.

“I want to touch you,” she whispered. She could’ve simply done it without saying a word, but she needed to know if he craved her touch, too.

Towering over her, his gaze turned from hungry to downright carnivorous. He stepped a little closer and dropped his arms to his sides. The invitation sent her pulse soaring.

Slowly she reached out and ran the tips of her fingers over his collarbone, luxuriating in the feel of him as he watched.

“Why does your touch do that to me?” he asked as if astonished, pleased, and suspicious all at once.

She snapped back her hand, but he caught it in his, waiting for his answer, piercing her with his deep green eyes. She couldn’t speak being this close to him, touching him. Smelling him was better than she’d remembered. Was it possible he’d become more desirable?

“Wh-what d-does it do to you?” she stuttered.

He slowly took her hand and laid it flat over his heart, his gaze never breaking from her obscured face. “It does all sorts of things.”

Ixtab’s head swirled. “L-l-like”—she swallowed—“wh-what?”

“It feels like a warm fire igniting in my veins,” he said in a low, deep voice. “It fills me and yet leaves me hungry, wanting more. And it does…” Still holding her hand to his warm chest, he stepped nearer and pressed his lower torso against her closed legs. “This.”

Ixtab made a little jerk and gasped as she felt his warm, hard cock against her knees.

Her heart began to thump wildly in her chest, and the heat rushed into her belly, continuing deeper. Oh, gods, she wanted him to part her legs and slide himself between her thighs. Her body lit up knowing that the only thing between them would be a pair of leather pants.

He brushed his warm fingertips over her collarbone, as she’d done to him. Oh, gods, she could feel his hot breath on her skin. She wanted him to touch every inch of her body.

He licked his lips and slid his hand through her curtain of hair and caressed the curve of her bare neck. “Your lips,” he whispered, and bent his head just a little farther so that his mouth was directly over her ear, “were so soft and warm when I kissed them.”

He’d kissed her? “When?” she asked, barely unable to keep from panting.

“While you were out cold, before you disappeared on me,” he said softly, seductively.

She shuddered as her body pulsed and throbbed in the most delicious places. Had he looked at her face, too? “What else did you see?”

Still cupping the side of her neck, he moved his other hand under her veil and began stroking her lips. “Just these.” He lightly nuzzled his face against hers before placing his hand over her chin. “And this.” Then down the front of her neck. Was he trying to drive her mad? “I want to see the rest.”

Take off her veil? Let him see her face?

Yes. She wanted this, too, she realized. She wanted him to see her. She needed him to gaze into her eyes and see her soul, to know if he might accept her for who she truly was.

This is it.

He gripped the edge of the fabric and began to pull.

The alarm buzzed behind him, and she suddenly jerked away from him.

His eyes instantly filled with irritation, and he stepped back, breaking their contact.

Oh no. Did he think she was rejecting him? “Antonio, I-I…”

He turned away and shut off the alarm. “I’ve set up your… your toe-worship station in the living room,” he grumbled.

Toe-worship station? Penelope and Kinich had really gone overboard with the groveling instructions.

“Antonio, I want to—”

“I’m an idiot,” he hissed under his breath.

“What? No, I—”

“I’ll be there shortly,” he said coldly.

Why wouldn’t he let her explain? Because if he did, he’d hear how his touch was the best thing she’d ever experienced. He’d hear how she wanted more, but simply needed a moment to work up the courage to take off her veil. Because it wasn’t just a veil; it was her armor, her penance, her way of thwarting the undeserved admiration of others.

“Very well, vampire.” She left the room feeling mildly deflated. Gods, she was so bad at this whole intimacy thing! She completely came apart around him like a total fool!

She wondered down the hall to the opulent living room, her mind spinning. She needed him to listen, to know her story: why she hid her face, how he looked exactly like Francisco, and how he could touch her when no one else could. She would tell him how he filled her with hope.

But how did one start such a conversation with a…

Damned stubborn, bossy vampire! She huffed. Didn’t he know how hard this was for her? She had no experience with intimacy, physical or otherwise; it was completely unknown to her.

She rounded the corner into the living room and nearly tripped. A freshly lit log crackled in the fire pit, and white candles sprinkled every corner of the room with warm, flickering light. A pile of neatly folded, white, fluffy towels had been stacked next to an overstuffed armchair placed near the fire, along with a steaming metal tub of water that beckoned to her feet.

He’d done all this for her? None of this had been on the list.

Okay. Breathe. Breathe. You’re a goddess. You can make him listen. You are strong. You are strong. You are… so lame! Stop acting like a child.

She sat in the chair and carefully dipped her toes in the water. The smell of roses instantly penetrated her nostrils, and she threw back her head. Every woman should be given the gift of immortal groveling. At least once a year. And with a man like Antonio—fiercely masculine and obscenely handsome. Who is completely peeved at you!

“Enjoying yourself?”

Ixtab looked up, but didn’t see anyone.

“Down here, Oh Divine One,” Antonio said petulantly.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, call me Ixtab.”

“Yes, Ixtab,” he said with a slow, deliberate pronunciation of each letter of her name and then flashed a fiercely carnal look her way.

She swooned right then and there. How could she say anything coherent when he looked at her that way?

She swallowed. “Antonio, I know you don’t trust me, and I keep making a huge mess of everything, but I-I…” She fumbled with her words and tugged at her neckline. It was getting very hot in there.

Without breaking his raw gaze, he dipped his head, fished her feet from the tub, and pushed it aside. He wrapped the left foot in a warm, soft towel and firmly grasped the right. “Close your eyes.”

“No. Wait,” she protested. “You don’t need to do this…” Her words trailed off as she became lost again in the sensation of his touch. Her nails dug into the padded arms of the chair. His hot, rough hands gently stroked her heel, but it felt as though he stroked her entire body. Is this why so many human women get pedicures! Wow. Have I been missing out.

“Close your eyes. Relax,” he repeated briskly. This time she noticed his low, scratchy voice. Ummm. There was that itch again.

“I don’t want to close my eyes. I want to…” Oh, gods, that feels incredible. What was I saying?

“Whatever pleases you,” he said coldly, his strong fingers began gently working each toe. Oh, this was too much. Not only was he touching her, but also the sensuality of his hands was a sultry bliss. She stared down at his bare chest with its chiseled definition, the firelight behind him illuminating his muscular biceps—large biceps that flexed while his hands caressed and massaged her foot. The sight of him was more erotic than she could bear.

An unintentional groan escaped her mouth.

Antonio froze and looked up at her veiled face.

Dammit. She was making a fool of herself. He’d been tricked into this groveling scheme, forced to touch her. That’s not what she wanted. She wanted real. She wanted… him.

Okay, it was time for that talk. She snapped her foot away. “That’s enough. Antonio, there’s something—”

He swiped her foot and placed it firmly between his two hands. “I’m not done yet,” he growled.

Again, she snapped her foot away. “No. I think you are.”

His eyes lit with fury. “What? Not good enough for you? Is a disgusting vampire defiling the sanctity of your toes?” Again, he grabbed her foot.

“What? No. I only want to—”

He rose up on his knees, placing himself firmly between her thighs, and pushed her back in the seat. “I flew all the way down here to grovel for your pompous, arrogant ass over something that was an accident. So, I dare you to insult me again. I dare you to move another inch, Oh Divine One, before I’ve completed this foot rub.”

Why wouldn’t he let her speak, for gods’ sake? And why was he making her own immortal groveling so damned hard?

“Or what?” she seethed.

His eyes said, I double-triple dare you to find out!

Dammit, she didn’t want to fight with him. She wanted to talk. She wanted to know if her heart, her soul, should dare to dream that Antonio might be the Universe granting her wish.

Let him finish the foot rub. Maybe he’ll calm down and then you can talk. She grumbled like a petulant child and relaxed in the chair, signaling her submission. He sank back on his heels, grabbed the bottle of oil to his side, coated his hand, and spitefully jerked her foot directly in front of him.

He slathered each toe and then her heel and ankle. When his strong hand reached the lower calf muscle, he looked straight up the line of her leg and froze. She watched as his eyes zeroed in, right on her.

Oops. She snapped her legs shut as his gaze turned from a deep olive green to charcoal black.

Uh-oh. A vampire with black eyes only meant one of three things: hungry, angry, or inconsolably horny.

In her case it had to be… Well, it had to be… He just looked at your womanly pride and joy. But he couldn’t possibly…

She tried to retrieve her foot but it was in vampire lockdown.

His head dipped and he placed his warm mouth forcefully over her pinkie toe. A tiny squeal involuntarily escaped her mouth followed by his groan.

“You liked that, did you?” he said in a gravelly voice. His mouth moved to her ankle and sucked. “You like having a disgusting vampire touch you, don’t you, Ixtab?”

Chest heaving, hands gripping the armchair for dear life, she replied, “I don’t think you’re disgusting—” She felt the faint scrape of a fang brush her lower calf as his hot tongue and mouth massaged their way up another inch. “I think you’re—Oh, gods.” Every touch, every miniscule point of contact felt like exquisite, little convulsions rocketing through her body. After thousands of years of being deprived of physical contact, every inch of her skin lit up with sensual explosions. She gripped the chair even harder.

“Say it. You think I’m what?” he asked with that heavy voice saturated with sex. One strong hand slid its way up her inner thigh while his mouth and tongue slowly worked their way up the inside of the other leg.

“Very… very…” She clamped her eyes shut and felt his sharp teeth scrape their way a little higher.

“Very what?” His hot breath bathed her inner thigh. Then one hand moved another inch and then another until she felt their roughness brush over her sensitive flesh between her legs.

She bucked lightly and her nipples hardened to sharp points. “Oh, gods.” Naughty vampire. No one had ever touched her like that. Ever. And the most arousing thing of all was how he took control. No shame or shyness. No permission asked. He simply did what pleased him. Gods be damned, but now she knew what she’d been missing out on all these thousands of years. In her wildest dreams she would never have imagined.

“Very sexy,” she finally answered with a breath.

“Good,” he replied and then ran one hot finger down the middle of her slick valley. “Now, show me how much you like me.”

Show him? Show him? If she did that, she would be grabbing that thick dark hair of his and riding his face like a drunk cowgirl who’d found the last bronking bucko on the planet.

His mouth worked an inch closer to her sensitive bud, and she knew only a moment of contact would be required. He withdrew his hand to make way for his mouth in the space she’d narrowly allowed him. Oh, gods…

She glanced down to see the most erotic sight she’d ever witnessed. His one hand had reached down to free his hard cock from the confinement of those hot leather pants. She couldn’t see his manhood, but she saw the unmistakable, rhythmic pumping of his hand.

Holy deities of sex and sin, he was pleasuring himself to the view of her.

“Tu flor de mujer es tan exquisita.” He groaned.

Had he just called her womanly bit an exquisite flower? Her mind swam in an endless, delicious mess of sexual images displayed before her.

The exact moment his mouth covered her flower, his free hand slid up her torso and clasped her breast over the fabric of her dress. With his large, firm touch he massaged her breast in time to the expert strokes of his delving tongue and pumping hand.

Holy deities of ancient Babylonia, she’d never experienced such a sensation.

“Don’t stop. Ohmygods. Don’t stop.”

His silky, hot tongue dipped and stroked and glided over the tiny bundle of sparkling nerves. They coiled with delicious tension. “Oh, gods, don’t stop.”

His hot, panting breath quickened with each tiny jab of his tongue. “Never. You taste so delicious. So fucking sweet.”

“Yes. Yes.” She was centimeters away from experiencing that wave of mind-crippling nirvana. She rocked her pelvis against his tongue. “Holy stars and moon, Francisco!”

He stopped.

She stopped.

Every creature on the planet stopped to tsk in her general direction.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Did I call him Francisco?

“Did you just say… ‘Holy stars and moon, Francisco?’ ” He scowled.

Yes… Yes, I did. Shit.

Before she could say a word, Antonio was gone.

Oh no. Oh no…

Maybe there was such a thing as second chances. But what she now needed was a third.