Immortal Matchmakers, Inc.

  “Dammit, Tula. Can’t you wear something slutty to work for once? Something that might shame your family or get you mistakenly arrested for prostitution? I can’t get any damned work done around here!”

  She tilted up her watering can and slowly turned. “You feelin’ okay, Mr. Zac?”

  “No,” he grumbled and shifted his eyes back down to his laptop screen.

  “It’s the decorations, isn’t it? They’re irritating you,” she said, sounding disappointed.

  Hell no. She’d done a great job. She’d brought in another desk and a black leather chair—a badass chair—just for him and made a little waiting area near the elevator, complete with a huge flat screen, two colorful red sofas, and some end tables. She’d even had the landlord bring in these very ingenious moveable walls to make a kitchen area with a coffee machine, fridge, and table for sitting and eating lunch. Which she did every day, innocently nibbling on whatever wholesome food she prepared while she perused wedding magazines.

  The place still had a ton of empty space, but at least it felt homier, and he could catch his favorite show, American Ninja.

  I love watching humans try to be like us gods. Very amusing. What wasn’t amusing was her nunlike disposition and infallible moral fiber. Gods, I just want to tie her up and lick her from head to toe until she gives in to me.

  “The furnishings are fine, Tula. I simply find it difficult to concentrate when you behave so anti-seductively or wear such unsexy clothing.”

  “You’re weird, Mr. Zac.” She turned and went back to watering the plants near the window in her most non-sexy way.

  He groaned, adjusted his cock, and went back to his task of screening invitees for the mixer. So far, he’d approved everyone with the exception of a fucking Maaskab—holy fucking gods, was that some sort of joke? He’d have to ask Cimil later—and his brother Acan, the God of Wine and Intoxication, better known as Belch. It was a waste to have Belch attend as a guest because A) who in their right mind would want to date that drunk slob? And B) he was the best bartender on the planet. He could look right at a person and know exactly what drink to serve, even when they didn’t know themselves. He also accidentally lit a lot of shit on fire, which always made for a more interesting party. Belch is definitely tending bar.

  Zac scribbled on his notepad: Have Tula order extra fire extinguishers for mixer.

  The elevator door chimed and out stepped a gorgeous woman with soft waves of auburn hair and golden-brown eyes, wearing sweet little tiny shorts and a tight tank top showing off her plump breasts and curvy hips.

  “Well, well, how may I help you today, Miss?” he said in his best and most tempting voice.

  She looked around at the empty office. “Where the hell is Bob?”

  “Bob? I’m not sure you—”

  Cimil’s office door swung open. “Sippy, baby. Nice to see you!”

  What the fuck?

  Cimil wore a short brown wig, mustache, and gray plaid suit.

  “Uh, Cimil,” Zac said, “why are you dressed as—”

  “Shut it, Zac, or I will instruct Tula to sing church hymns every day, all day, for the next year.”

  Zac snapped his mouth shut. He also wondered just exactly when Cimil had shown up. He hadn’t seen her go into the office. So fucking weird.

  “Sadie,” Cimil said in a deep, worst man-voice ever, “won’t you come into my office?”

  Sadie or Sippy—whatever—marched right in and slammed the door shut. But with his super-deific hearing, he could make out almost every word:

  Andrus.

  Asshole.

  Want him dead now.

  How could you do this to me?

  Bastard.

  Showed his cock.

  Faked drowning.

  Kissed me.

  Propositioned me.

  Twice.

  Threatened me with large knife.

  Got me fired.

  Hate you, Bob.

  Wow. Zac laughed. I need to hang out with Andrus more often.

  Then Cimil, in her man-voice, tried to assure the mortal that everything would be handled.

  “You’d better, Bob,” the woman screeched. “Because if I don’t get paid, then neither do you.”

  The door flew open and the woman stormed out toward the stairs, not bothering to wait for the elevator.

  “Zac!” Cimil barked. “Get in here.”

  Oh, with pleasure. And a side of rubbing it in coming right up, too! Zac entered the office and Cimil looked genuinely bothered. That did not sit well with him. Why? Because nothing ever bothered Cimil.

  “Shut the door,” she said, sitting on her desk, ripping off her fake mustache. “This isn’t working.”

  “What’s not working?”

  “This!” She threw up her pale boney hands. “I can’t do it. I can’t shoot straight.”

  “Mind elaborating, oh crazy one?”

  “Everything is going wrong. And do you know why?”

  “Because you’re predisposed to destroying all life on the planet while simultaneously saving everyone?” he guessed.

  “No!” Her finger shot up. “For the first time in my existence, I am being honest.”

  Yeah, right. Don’t believe that for a minute, but I’ll play along. “And?”

  “It’s ruining everything! Andrus is supposed to fall in love with Charlotte, his second-chance mate, in five days. That woman Sadie—” she pointed to the door “—is supposed to show him how to be a better wooer. But now he refuses to be instructed by her because he thinks I’m deceiving him, up to my old tricks when clearly I’m not.”

  “Oh. Now I see.”

  “You have to talk to him, Zac. Asshole to asshole. Immortal male pig to immortal male pig. Convince him that he must listen to the actress. Convince him this is his only chance.”

  “I’m not sure I’m convinced you’re telling the truth either, Cimil.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Have I been nothing but honest since we came here?”

  He shrugged and glanced toward the door, but his eyes were envisioning Tula’s sweet little ankles.

  “Zac, she is not for you. She is the Fort Knox of vaginas. You can’t break her. You can’t seduce her. She loves another and always will.”

  “Soooo, you’re trying to tell me that she’s not some attempt to make me suffer needlessly and then, after months, perhaps years of suffering, she’ll leave her fiancé and realize she wants to bed me?”

  Cimil shook her head. “Nope. Never gonna happen.”

  He tilted his head.

  “I’m serious!” Cimil screamed, throwing her arms down at her sides. “And if you don’t believe me, go out there right now and lay it on her. Give it all you got.”

  “Seriously?” Zac asked.

  “Yeah.” Cimil gestured toward the door. “Be my guest.”

  If Cimil was telling the truth about Tula, there was one sure way to find out.

  He marched out of Cimil’s office. “Tula!”

  Tula looked up from her desk nervously. “What’s the matter?”

  “Come here.” He plucked her from her chair, grabbed her by the waist, pulled her in tight, and kissed her with every trick in the temptation toolbox: soft sensual lips, sinful movements of his tongue, and the warm vibrations of his body. He kissed her until he felt his energy spiking to maximum levels. Mortals and deities created a reaction, the result generally being the mortal dropping dead if exposed for too long, unless the human wore black jade—a material used to blunt a deity’s energy.

  Before he fried her, he let go and dropped his hands. He stared down at the small, wholesome woman, waiting for her response.

  She blinked her big blues at him and then smiled shyly. “Mr. Zac, while that was a lovely kiss, I’m afraid I’m set to marry Gilbert. And since he and I don’t swing, it’s just never gonna happen between you and me.” She shrugged. “But a big delicious god like you will find your special someone. I’m sure of it.” She poked his chest.

  D
amned woman! She hadn’t even broken a sweat or moaned or…anything. Even her objection was sweet and wholesome.

  He turned back toward Cimil’s office and slammed the door. “Fine. I believe you. Tula is immune to my charms.”

  Of course, now he wanted her more than ever. Ah! Gods fucking bloody hell! Now what am I going to do? She was like the last piece of chocolate on earth. So tempting.

  “Good,” Cimil said. “Now go knock some sense into Andrus so we can move on to the next client. We have to hurry before we run out of time.”

  “What do you mean, ‘run out’?”

  “You know,” she replied, “before you go all crazy and start killing everyone.”

  What the devil? “What are you talking about, Cimil?”

  “Don’t you remember? I foresee you losing your marbles and then you go on a rampage, murdering everyone. I think it’s because you’re here too long, but I’m not sure.”

  “I think,” he growled, “you forgot to mention this.”

  She shrugged. “That’s weird. I coulda sworn I told you.”

  “When does this happen?”

  “I dunno. I keep hearing the dead scream your name, but without my powers, I can’t get a good read on what happens.”

  He dropped his head. “Bloody fuck. Just great. We need to call for a meeting of the gods before that happens.”

  “Sorry.” Cimil shook her head. “I already tried. They think it’s just another one of my secret evil plots.”

  Perhaps it was. No one ever knew for certain. On the other hand, if she was telling the truth, which happened about fifty percent of the time, then they really needed to fucking hurry the hell up. I refuse to become the God of Mass Murder. That did not have a cool ring to it at all.

  “I’ll call Andrus and get him on board,” he grumbled miserably.

  “Great! If he refuses to listen, call Helena. If anyone can get him to see reason, it’s her.”

  “Fine. Got it,” he replied. “And Cimil? When this is all over, I’m going to make you pay.”

  “Oh, goody!” She clapped. “Do you take fives and singles? I’ve foreseen I will take up stripping.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  After the beach incident with Sadie, Andrus decided the best course of action was to leave town. For some reason, her final comments had gotten under his skin, even though he knew she had been referring to him pissing away a chance at some nonexistent acting job.

  Still, her comments hit a nerve, and he wasn’t sure why. Perhaps because he wanted the opportunity she hadn’t spoken of—a true chance of finding someone to share eternity with. But in his heart, he simply couldn’t believe it would be given to him. After enduring centuries of heartache with his last mate and then losing Matty and Helena from his life, he didn’t have the courage to venture down yet another path that would lead to disappointment. It simply felt easier to be alone.

  Hope is for suckers.

  So he’d packed up his shit, checked out of the hotel, and got into his rental Hummer. Sadie’s car was gone from the parking lot, so he knew she’d already come to retrieve it.

  That woman was quite the little actress, pretending innocently to be helping him while they both knew she worked for Cimil.

  Oddly, it kind of bothered him, which irritated him more because he didn’t know the woman.

  However, now more than ever, he felt convinced this was all some plan to simply amuse the Goddess of the Underworld. He now saw how Cimil had used his emotions against him, leveraging little Matty to get him to do whatever she wanted. But logic said there were no second mates. There was one and only one. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t someday meet a woman whose company he enjoyed; it simply meant that the fire might not be everlasting and that their connection would be less consuming. Hell, what was wrong with that?

  He’d been mated before, and it fucking sucked. The woman had complete control over him, could get him to do anything just to be near her.

  He much preferred a normal relationship. Possibly none at all. Yes, one-nighters are perfect. And a man like him could have an endless supply.

  Miami, here I come, he thought, pulling onto the freeway and immediately hitting the brakes. Fucking L.A. How did people actually travel anywhere when rush hour started at 6:00 a.m. and ended at 10:00 p.m. seven days a week?

  His cell phone rang, and he hit the Bluetooth on the steering wheel. “Yeah?”

  “Hello, Andrus, it’s I, Zac, God of Temptation.”

  Oh, marvelous. Cimil’s sidekick. “Aren’t you the ex-God of Temptation since you’re now powerless?”

  “I’ll get my powers back. Someday. It might happen a little fucking faster if you’d play ball.”

  “Forget it. I’m not getting sucked into whatever scheme Cimil’s got going.”

  “Andrus, I’m going to lay it on you, one badass immortal to another: Cimil isn’t fucking around. At least, I don’t think she is.”

  This coming from a god who believed Cimil when she told him he could steal away his brother’s mate by using his powers. Two huge no-nos according to their sacred laws. “Sorry. I’m heading to the airport.”

  “Fine,” Zac sighed on the phone, “I didn’t want to do this, but you give me no choice.”

  Oh, this ought to be good. Andrus chuckled and looked at himself in the rearview mirror, inspecting his pearly whites. Traffic hadn’t moved one inch, so he could do with a little amusement.

  “Andrus?” said a soft female voice. “It’s Helena.”

  Andrus felt his blood chill. Hearing the sound of her voice felt like a stab to the heart.

  He swallowed back his emotions. “Helena, so they’ve dragged you into this, have they? What did Cimil promise you? A ride on her unicorn?”

  “Andrus,” Helena said, “I know that you’re probably furious with me given the way I kicked you out. And I know you don’t owe me any favors, but I’m begging. Please do what Cimil is asking.”

  Andrus laughed. “This? Coming from you?” Cimil had put Niccolo, her mate, to sleep for three hundred years to await Helena’s birth. Then she told him he couldn’t touch her—a complete lie—for three months. It nearly drove them both mad. There was a lot more to the story, but the moral was, never trust Cimil. Not ever.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Helena said, “but despite her unethical, sadistic, and crazy ways, everything always works out in the end. She just enjoys making it painful.”

  “No. Sometimes things don’t work out. Need I remind you of the clowns?” he asked.

  “Okay. Except for the clowns. Although, no one knows what Cimil did with them, so there’s still a chance it could work out.”

  Not likely. Cimil had it in for the clowns and had rounded up hundreds, perhaps thousands, of them. No one had seen or heard from them since.

  She continued, “The point is, most of the time, Cimil isn’t lying. If she says you’re supposed to meet this woman and be the father of Matty’s mate, then why risk it? The party is only a few days away.”

  “Five days. And no. I’m not going. I care deeply for Matty, but I do not wish to meet this woman, even if she is my mate.”

  “But, Andrus—”

  “I have no interest, Helena, in being tethered to another woman. May I remind you how well that worked out for me the last time?”

  Helena knew every detail. She’d been there during those final moments when his mate tried to kill him. Ironically, Niccolo showed up and stabbed her.

  Helena started to cry. “But what will Matty do for the rest of her life, Andrus? Be alone and bitter like…” her voice trailed off.

  “Like me. You were about to say ‘like me,’ weren’t you?”

  “She deserves a chance at happiness.”

  “But I don’t. I don’t deserve that, now do I?” Helena knew he loved her. It was the reason he’d stayed to protect her even after she’d married Niccolo.

  “I’m sorry, Andrus. I’m sorry you’re not the one. But you are family and I do love you, just not
the way you need me to.”

  “Like a brother,” he said bitterly.

  “No. Like my daughter’s father-in-law.”

  Ouch. That was far worse. “So that is all I am to you? Merely the sperm donor to create your daughter’s future husband?”

  “Yes. Okay, you’re my friend, too, but mostly I just love you for your sperm.”

  Andrus heard Niccolo belting out Italian cuss words in the background.

  “Oh, be quiet!” she yelled back. “Can’t I talk about another man’s sperm without you getting your leather pants in a tizzy? You’re such an ogre!” She returned to the conversation. “Please, Andrus. Five more days. Meet the woman. Give her your sperm. And then you can go wherever you like. Except New York City. Don’t come here. I think Niccolo might castrate you, and I’m sure you love your testicles.”

  Andrus heard more yelling in the background.

  “No!” she yelled. “I did not say I love his testicles—would you stop listening in? Go do some laundry or warm up some blood for my lunch.” She returned to the conversation. “Sorry. I swear, that man is over a thousand years old, but still acts like he’s five.”

  If only I had a mate, that could be my life. I dare to dream.

  “I have to go, Andrus, but Matty and I will come see you soon. She misses you.”

  “I must go now.”

  “Please promise you’ll at least think about it?” she asked.

  “I will reconsider.”

  “Good. Because the Andrus I know never ran away from anything. Not even Cimil.”

  Grrrrr. She knew that would push his damned buttons.

  “Hey, man.” Zac’s voice came through the speaker. He’d been on the line listening in the entire time. “I’ll text you Sadie’s address. Cimil recommends you keep it in your pants from now on.”

  “I didn’t agree to—”

  “Hey, you’re preaching to the choir, Andrus. I think staying single for eternity is the way to go. I mean, there are only so many immortals out there and millions of humans to play with. I bet that little Matty won’t mind spreading the love around once she’s all grown up and mateless.”

  Andrus instantly felt enraged. The thought of men, lots of them, laying their hands on her made him furious. “You’re an asshole, Zac.”