Chapter 20

Two hours later, I was yanked from sleep by a strong hand and a rich voice telling me to dress for dinner. Dinner? What time was it? I normally didn't sleep in the middle of the day, and it had messed me up. After going without sleep the night before, I could have done with a lot more of it, though.

I struggled up; staring down at my jeans-clad legs with blurred vision. Never a good idea to sleep in jeans, but it was either that or my underwear, and I wasn't about to get nearly naked in blood boy's bed of lust. The groan poured out of me as I rubbed my eyes. I could feel a bruise beneath the point of my dagger's hilt, where it had dug into my stomach while I slept.

"Come here."Huitzilopochtli held out a hand; something red hung from his other one.

I was too tired to care. I went over and just stood there. He could have struck me down, and I wouldn't have lifted a finger. He could have shaved my head or stabbed a knife into my heart, and I wouldn't have moved. Instead, he grabbed the hem of my shirt and started to lift it.

"Whoa!"I whacked his hands; outraged adrenaline surging through my sleep-heavy limbs.

"I'm going to help you dress."Huitzilopochtli reached for me again and when I kept a death grip on my shirt, his eyes narrowed, his voice turning to ice. "You'll let me dress you, and we'll play nicely, or I'll tear the clothes from your body and be everything but nice. Your choice."

I felt my fingers go slack as a sliver of fear sliced through me, and he immediately reached for me; his eyes shining in triumph. Huitzilopochtli pulled the shirt over my head. I lifted my arms like a good girl, and he sucked in his breath sharply. I wasn't looking at his face, but I felt the heat of his gaze. His hands went to my collar, and then skimmed down my front, over the black lace of my bra, stroking gently before continuing down to the waistband of my jeans. A cold, trembling horror spread in its wake; closing my throat and burning my eyes. I'd envisioned death at the hands of a god numerous times but never had I considered the possibility of life with one. Maybe because it was so much worse.

I wasn't even sure what the worst part was: the panic, the humiliation, or the fear. Maybe it was the realization that I was in over my head and had been the whole time. That no matter what, there would always be someone stronger, faster, meaner, and out to get me. It was a cold splash of reality that wasn't going to do a thing for Huitzilopochtli's seduction routine. Although, I wasn't sure if seduction was what he had in mind anymore.

Huitzilopochtli undid the button and zipper of my jeans and then pushed them over my hips slowly; kneeling to scrape the material down my legs. I stepped out of them, barely keeping my knees from buckling, and tried to back away, but he grabbed me firmly by the hips and stared up the length of me.

"You're beautiful,"he breathed, "why are you trying to hide?"

"Maybe because I don't like being forced to strip."I stared down at him with undisguised hatred. "I don't know what type of woman you normally associate with, but I generally don't get naked around a man I've only known for a few hours."

Huitzilopochtli blinked and got abruptly to his feet. "I only wanted to see you."He jerked the red silk over my head. It caressed my skin and my fear-weakened body shivered in reaction. I pulled my anger further to the surface and used it to push away any trace of weakness.

The silk ended up being a cocktail dress. Versace; I noted with dark humor. I pulled it down and reached behind me to zip up the back. It was covered in beads and shimmered as I moved. I had no idea how the little spaghetti straps held the weight of it, but I had to admit it was incredible. Even with fear filling me, I wanted to check myself out in a mirror. But I wasn't about to give Huitzilopochtli the satisfaction.

Huitzilopochtli held a pair of red satin stiletto heels out to me, and I obediently put them on. He had a hell of an eye because he got both the dress and my shoe size perfect. Like a complete gentleman, he took my arm and led me to a chair; pushing me down into it without a word. His fingers ran across my temples and then undid my hair before pulling the mass of it back. I felt him hold the gathered weight in one hand as he pulled a comb through it with the other. The snarls of my hair swiftly surrendered to his expert ministrations, and I closed my eyes to enjoy the sensations. Which only made it worse. I popped my eyes back open; determined to keep them that way through the rest of the torture, bliss, no; torture. Definitely torture.

Finally, Huitzilopochtli laid the brush down and offered me his arm. "Our guests await us in the dining room."

What else could I do? He was obviously insane; threatening me one minute and then brushing my goddamned hair the next. I took his arm and let him lead me to the dining room. My head swam from the combination of his insanity and my sleep deprivation. Maybe it was all some weird form of torture. Maybe he just wanted a living Barbie doll he could dress up and parade in front of his friends. Maybe I was still asleep; stuck in one of those nightmares where you keep thinking that you've woken up, but you haven't.

I tried to untangle the mystery on the long walk to the dining room, but it was hard enough to remain on my feet. The strange torture habits of Aztec Gods would have to wait until later to be pondered. Perhaps the Discovery channel would do a special on it. I choked back an exhausted giggle.

"Are you all right?"Huitzilopochtli stopped me before we crossed the threshold.

"I could use a little more sleep"I blinked up at him, and he brushed my hair back gently to study my face.

"Have some food and then I'll take you back to bed."He played the concerned lover so well that it made my flesh crawl.

I just nodded; not trusting myself to speak.

The room we entered had been decorated in cream and gold. The carpet was plush cream, the walls were creamy stone, and the curtains that hung from the two large windows were a color I'd once heard referred to as crème fraiche by a pompous up-and-coming artist. All the accessories were gold; the curtain rods, the fixtures, even the little chatchkies were all gold—solid gold, if I was judging crazy Aztec boy correctly. I felt as if I'd walked into a gilded marshmallow. The gods I'd met earlier were congregated at the far end of the room, around a bar made of golden walnut. There were delicate chairs in the same wood waiting behind them, but the gods remained standing.

They turned toward us as we walked in and met us at the long table in the middle of the room. The table stood proudly under white linen; covered with bone china and more gold flatware than I knew what to do with. The glasses were cut-crystal and so were the candelabras placed on each end of the table. A massive floral arrangement of ivy and white roses exploded from a vase in the precise center. Everything was immaculate and it made me immediately search for something with the greatest staining potential.

Huitzilopochtli escorted me to a seat to the left of the head of the table. I fell more than sat into it, but he didn't seem to notice as he took the head chair. Only then did everyone else sit. It made me very nervous, and I had to fight to keep from fidgeting. It was all a little too upper-class Manson for me (Charles not Marilyn), and I tried to cover up a shudder as the thought of what we might be feasting on struck me. Did they all drink blood? Was I about to be served a banquet of blood or raw meat?

When the servants walked in, I flinched. The gods I'd dispatched before had all lived alone. I didn't think they needed or even wanted servants. Yet here was a whole retinue of help for Huitzilopochtli. It was chilling to think that I could have snuck into a god's home and found not one, but several adversaries. I swallowed hard as I looked over the waiters. They all had the look of Huitzilopochtli to them—restrained ferocity under a guise of elegance—and a horrible revelation hit me when one of them filled my glass with a dark red wine.

"Are they vampires?"I leaned over and whispered the question to Huitzilopochtli.

"In a way."He shrugged. "They're my priests, the ones I spoke of earlier. They've served me well and will continue to serve me for all eternity."

I shuddered as I thought about being a servant and a bloodsucker forever. Talk about the short end of the immortality stick. One of them placed a dome-covered dish before me. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. There was a movement of air as he took the lid away, but I still didn't look.

A line from "Hotel California"came to me as I opened my eyes; the one about the feast. But there wasn't a beast on the plate before me. Instead, there was a beautiful cornish game hen surrounded by a mound of crispy roasted potatoes. I heaved a sigh of relief.