[Anh Ngữ] Fashionably Dead (Hot Damned #1) - Robyn Peterman (English)

[kenny0112]

Fashionably Dead (Hot Damned #1)
by Robyn Peterman
Genre: Funny
​

Spoiler: Chapter 9

After a lot of consideration, several more human artery lessons, and some life-threatening encouragement from Pam, I finally drank mortal blood.

From Gemma.

To make Pam happy.

And to continue to live another day.

If you asked The Kev, he’d tell you that Gem wasn’t totally mortal. He wasn’t sure what she was, but he was convinced she had “the Magic.” I was convinced he had it bad. I caught The Kev practicing a Michael Jackson medley, crotch grab and all. Ahhh, the lengths a Fairy would go to impress a woman.

If The Kev was correct about Gemma, I still hadn’t had mortal blood. God only knows what secret superpower Gemma’s blood would give me. Magic or mortal, Gemma tasted yummy, just like a best friend should.

“What does it feel like?” I asked, licking the punctures to stop the bleeding and handing her wrist back to her.

“It kind of tickles, in a fuzzy way.”

“Does it feel sexual?”

“No. Does it to you?” Gemma asked, wiping a blood smear from my mouth.

“Not at all.” I lamented the fact that my blood drinking may never be a sexual experience for me, or for anyone else.

Gemma tucked her hair behind her ears and hummed a few bars of ‘Rock with You’. “Dude, maybe you just need to suck the right guy to make it all hot and steamy.”

“Possibly,” I agreed, envisioning a beautiful blonde Vampyre with gold eyes and a huge . . . don’t go there. I’d been daydreaming about him constantly, about how his lips would feel pressed against mine. I wondered if he really looked that good naked, and I couldn’t get his scent out of my nose. Forget my nose. I couldn’t get him out of my head. He was my every other stinkin’ thought. I was obsessed with Ethan, the Evil Rogue Killer Vampyre. With great effort, I pushed him over to the far left side of my mind. It was useless to lust after someone I’d never see again anyway. I hadn’t told Gemma about him. I knew if I did, she’d latch on like a pit bull and not let go. I hadn’t dated anyone in a while. A long while. According to Gemma, who never lacked for dates, that was a bad thing. Secretly I agreed with her, but outwardly I simply pretended not to care.

I didn’t date much. Apparently all men were losers and only good for one thing. My mother had beaten this nifty little fact into my brain since birth, ensuring I would be wary of the opposite ***. It had worked.

My mother couldn’t bother to remember my father’s name.

My mother’s father had died in Vietnam. By the time she was an adult, she couldn’t be bothered to remember his name either. I knew that hurt my Nana, but my mother was an odd duck, and a cold, unhappy, and very angry woman.

She had a mother who loved her, despite her shortcomings, and a daughter who adored her. A daughter who in adulthood had racked up several thousand hours of therapy, trying to figure out why her mother didn’t love her, along with why she couldn’t maintain a relationship with a man for more than two weeks.

You’d think after that upbringing I’d harbor some extremely nasty feelings for her. I didn’t. I didn’t exactly worship her anymore, but I didn’t hate her. Sadly, I couldn’t ratchet up enough emotion to feel much of anything for her. On the other hand, if I were really honest with myself, unfortunately there was still part of me that thought I could make her love me. Ahhh, those wonderful childhood fantasies.

Gemma held up her other wrist, snapping me out of my walk down dysfunction lane, “Do you want any more?”

“Sure,” I said, hunkering down. Gemma turned the volume back up on my brand new flat screen plasma TV, compliments of the Vampyres at the Aurora and Lucern Houses. In a matter of three hours they had completely repaired my house and brought me all new furniture. I was tempted to invite Muffy and Paris over and let them have at it in my kitchen. I could use some new appliances.

***


Holy hell. I jerked awake trying to figure out where I was. This Vampyre crap was messing with my sleep. What time was it? What in the hell was I doing here? Wait . . . I was home . . . in my bed. I was okay. I had just taken a nap.

I was home in my own bedroom and I’d had the dream.

Again.

Damn that Lady in the Tomb. She usually only popped into my dreams once a month or once every few months. Now she was popping in every other night. I was getting closer to getting her out of that tomb. I supposed if the dream kept rearing its bizarre head, I’d have her out of there by the end of the week.

I considered going back to sleep, but the movement on my ceiling caught my attention. Rachel, Ross, Honest Abe, and Beyonce were tap dancing. I’d named my monsters. I figured since I’d arrived in Crazytown, I may as well take off my coat and stay a while. It was odd. Out of all the little monsters living on my ceiling, the four of them really stood out. It started slowly with a shy nod and a wave, and then progressed to a full on dance party by day five.

I decided after a week and a half of bonding, and dancing, that they deserved better than just being called ‘monster’. Hence their names, given because of their uncanny resemblance to their historical counterparts. I loved them and they loved me. No one could take them away, not even my mother.

My little ugly babies didn’t eat, poop or bite. They lived on the ceiling and disappeared when anyone else was near. They were my three inch tall bundles of love. They were perfect and they were tremendous dancers. Their tango demonstration last night nearly brought me to tears of laughter. I hadn’t told anyone about them yet. I was afraid they would go away if I revealed their existence. I’d already given up so much. I wouldn’t take the chance of losing my monsters.

They often foreshadowed my evenings ahead. Tonight they were agitated. Very agitated.

They were slapping themselves and making high-pitched clicking sounds, which was like a cross between a cricket on speed and those wind-up teeth that chatter. The sounds were new. The more we interacted the more we could communicate. They loved when I flicked my fingers and shot breezes of Glitter Magic at them. They ate it up. Literally. They ate it, and then they ran around screaming and laughing like little drunks.

Their agitation tonight was unsettling. “I wish you guys could talk,” I muttered, getting dressed. I pulled on a super cool hot pink Juicy sweat suit that hugged my bottom just right and my brand new gold sequined UGG boots. My monsters approved. Their clapping and whistling made me giggle. I bowed. “Thank you, thank . . . ”

“Who in the hell are you talking to?”

“Shit,” I yelled, jerking around and slamming my head on the bed frame so hard I saw stars. “How many times have I told you to knock?” I hissed at Pam, who looked like hell warmed over. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Your mother is here.”

My little monsters screamed bloody murder and disappeared back into the ceiling. I quickly glanced at Pam to see if she’d heard them, but she gave no indication that anything was out of the ordinary.

“Are you sure?” I panicked. I paced my room frantically. I felt my fangs descend and my eyes go green. This was not good.

“Yes,” she replied, equally as panicked.

“Wait.” I stopped. “How do you know it’s my mother?”

“What do I look like to you?” Pam demanded.

“Oprah Winfrey?” I replied, confused by the question.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, I’m an Angel. I know these things,” she yelled.

“Hold. On.” I said with excitement, “Can you see the future?”

“Not down here I can’t,” she muttered, running her hand through her already frightening hair. “My boss . . . that would be GOD to you . . . much to my great disgust gave you imbeciles free will. So even if I could see the future, it can change on a dime because you idiots are as flighty as gnats.”

“But you can see it up there?” I insisted, pointing to Heaven.

“Sometimes,” she carefully replied.

“Did you see any of this before you came down?” I waited.

“Only up until three days ago.” Pam sounded so tired. “Now I occasionally have visions, and I know your mother being here is not a good thing.”

“Can she see you?”

“No. Not if I don’t want her to,” Pam said.

I was shocked, “You mean you can control that?”

“Of course I can, Asswad. I am more powerful than you will ever know. Now suck your fangs up, turn your eyes back to gold, and get your sorry ass down to your kitchen and . . . ”

“Hello, Astrid,” my mother said from my doorway. “Who are you talking to?”

“Shit,” I screamed, slapping my hand over my mouth and lowering my eyelids ‘til they were mere slits. Please God, please God, please God—don’t let her have seen my fangs. I could explain my eyes away as contacts, but there was no way to explain two inch razor sharp fangs.

“That’s a lovely way to greet your mother,” she said as her eyes narrowed. How did she do that? I felt like I was thirteen and got caught looking at naked guys on the Internet.

She tucked her perfectly coiffed hair behind her diamond studded ear and crossed her arms across her perfectly appointed chest. There she stood in her chic summer Chanel suit, pearls and low heeled pumps. Subtle makeup, light perfume and a slight tan. As Pam would say, absofuckinlutely perfect.

Pam watched my mother’s every move with a look of utter disgust and revulsion. I supposed Nana had filled Pam in on my mother while they were hanging out in Heaven.

My mother was a beautiful untouchable ice queen. She was blonde, fair skinned and had huge violet-blue eyes framed by unnaturally long lashes, high cheekbones and a Cupid ’s bow mouth. She looked crazy young for her age, which I happened to know was forty-six. More often than not, people thought she was my sister. She had me when she was sixteen.

As a child, I often wished she had given me up for adoption, but then I wouldn’t have had my Nana. I’d have gone to hell and back for my Nana. How my Nana spawned such a frozen piece of work is beyond me . . . but she did. My mother’s name was Petra, which was perfect. It meant stone.

“You’re looking quite good for someone who was so sick,” she said, taking in my messy room with displeasure.

“Thank you, Petra,” I said with my hand still covering my fangs. Go up, go up, go up . . . they did. Thank you, Jesus.

“Oh darling, you don’t have to call me Petra,” she laughed. Her laugh reminded me of ice breaking from limbs after a huge winter storm. The kind that looks beautiful, but kills.

Darling? What the fu . . . ?

I looked around the room, convinced there had to be someone here she was trying to fool with her loving mother routine. Nope, just me, her, and an invisible Angel.

“I . . . I thought that’s what you wanted me to call you, so . . . um, no one knew you were my mother.” The small, childlike voice that came out of my mouth disgusted me. Oh shit, I was going to cry. God, I hated myself. I was a grown woman. Why did I let her do this to me?

“Oh, don’t be silly,” she trilled. “I’m your mother . . . your mommy,” she smiled.

Did Pam just growl?

Who in the hell was standing in my bedroom? It looked like my mother, but it definitely was not my mother. My mother had never been loving in any way. Ever. All sorts of impossible things had happened lately, though. For God’s sake, I was a Vampyre with a Guardian Angel and my own personal Fairy. I suppose Martians could have come down and inhabited her body . . . or maybe she’d changed.

She put her arms out and approached me. I cautiously took a step closer. I awkwardly moved into her arms. It felt uncomfortable and wrong.

“Sweetheart, you feel so cold,” said my concerned mother with a bizarre satisfaction in her voice.

“I’m fine.” I tried to return her smile, but old habits were hard to break.

Her smile was still plastered on, but being so close to her I could see it didn’t reach her eyes. Alrighty then, she was still my mother.

“I came by to tell you something,” she said, gracefully but firmly disengaging herself from me. Crap, I didn’t realize I was holding on to her. Would I never learn? She circled me, examining me like a car or a horse.

“Being sick agrees with you, Astrid,” she said, “you have never looked so good in your life.” Why did her compliments always feel like a slap? “Yes . . . you look good, but a bit pale. Maybe you should get some sun, Astrid. Don’t you think you should get some sun, dear?”

“Well, I . . . um,” I stammered. I felt caught like a deer in the headlights.

“Oh, but you shouldn’t go out in the sun, should you, Astrid?” she asked, pointedly.

“What do you mean?” I whispered. Did she know? How could she know? People didn’t even believe in Vampyres.

“I mean, people like you shouldn’t go out in the sun . . . the sun will age you. It will give you sun spots and cancer,” she laughed.

Was she screwing with me?

“Actually, Astrid darling, that’s why I’m here,” she said. “I have cancer and I’m going to die. I’ll probably be dead within the week. My will is in order, so you have nothing to . . . ” She stopped.

I was laughing. Like a hyena. What in the hell was she talking about? Cancer? Dying? In a week? She looked like a million bucks. Cancer, my ass. With extreme effort I pulled myself together.

“Petra . . . I mean, Mother . . . I am so sorry, but if that’s a joke it’s awful. Is there something you want?”

Ice settled in the pit of my stomach. Shit, she was getting pissed. She tilted her head to the left. Left equaled pissed. Right equaled ballistic.

“Mother, come on,” I said, trying desperately to lighten the mood, “if you want something from me, just ask. You don’t have to tell me you’re dying to get me to do something.”

If I could breathe I’d be hyperventilating. If looks could kill I would be lying dead on the floor right now.

“I am not lying,” she ground out through clenched teeth. “I don’t want anything from you. I have never wanted anything from you. You are a stupid, directionless girl. At least now you’ve done one thing right and I would hope that you won’t fuck that up too. I’ll be dead by Friday. Everything is in order. I’d like to say my goodbyes now and not be bothered with any soul-searching or last minute bonding.”

I blinked. Did she say fuck? I had never heard her say fuck. It sounded so odd. Don’t get me wrong, the emotional beating she just dished out coupled with her bizarre death wish was painful, but I was used to that. I’d just never heard her say fuck.

She walked to my bedroom door. She stopped, not bothering to turn around. “When I’m gone, I hope you’ll remember me fondly. I’ll try to visit you in your dreams. Look for me.”

She left.

Was she high? Oh God, please don’t let her into my dreams. I have enough problems trying to get that poor woman out of the tomb. I didn’t need some bipolar demon mother telling me what a pathetic disappointment I’d been while I slept. What was she talking about—done something right?

My little monsters had been correct. This day sucked.

 

[kenny0112]

Fashionably Dead (Hot Damned #1)
by Robyn Peterman
Genre: Funny
​

Spoiler: Chapter 10

The hardest part about being a Vampyre—forget the not smoking part, I didn’t even miss it much anymore—was that Black Raspberry Chip ice cream, as well as chips and salsa were no longer part of my daily existence. I had always claimed that Black Raspberry Chip was better than ***. Even though I couldn’t eat it from the carton anymore, I stood by my statement.

To that point, I discovered something earth-shattering tonight.

Whatever Gemma ate I could taste in her blood! It didn’t work with Pam or The Kev—just Gem. I was beginning to think The Kev might be on to something. Gemma did have the Magic. So as Gemma happily scarfed down her second pint of Black Raspberry Chip, I happily scarfed down Gemma.

I licked Gemma’s wrist, closing the punctures. “God, I feel drunk.”

“Me too,” Gemma giggled. “I haven’t eaten that much sugar in one sitting in years!”

“Unfortunately I’m not drunk enough to forget about Petra’s impending death schedule.”

“Do you believe her?” Gemma asked, examining her wrist.

“I have no clue what to think. Oh God, did I take too much blood?” I asked, concerned.

“You can’t,” she said.

“How do you know?”

“I’m not sure.” Gemma licked the spoon, put it back in the carton and started humming ‘ABC’.

“Her blood replaces itself immediately,” The Kev said with pride. Did he just run his hand over her bottom?

“Are you sure?” I asked him.

“Yes, I’m sure. It’s nothing I can explain, it’s just something I know.” He smiled down at Gemma and touched her hair. She blushed.

Could she not see that he was wearing obscenely short teal running shorts? Teal women’s running shorts? He’d paired these with a sunshine yellow wife beater and a royal blue bandana on his head. This was the finest example of love is blind that I’d ever seen.

“Watch it,” Pam snarled, entering the room and shoving me off the couch with her big ol’ butt. “Gemma is not human. I don’t know what in the hell she is, but it ain’t mortal.” She picked up the ice cream and took up where Gem had left off. “You know what that means for Assssstrid here?” she demanded from all three of us.

“No,” I groaned, “but I can just you’re gonna tell us.”

“Yes, Assbag, I am,” she said with a mouthful of Black Raspberry Chip. “It means you still have not had mortal blood and I have absofuckinlutely no idea what we may have turned you into.”

“Well,” The Kev hesitated, looking everywhere but at Pam, “she’s shown strength—at times equal to mine—but she can’t maintain it,” he quickly added.

“What did you say?” Pam bellowed at him, slamming the ice cream down on the coffee table.

“She can’t maintain it,” he insisted.

“You,” she pointed at The Kev, “are a two thousand year old Fairy. There is no way in hell she can come close to your strength.”

“She shouldn’t be able to, but she can,” he muttered, fussing with his do-rag.

“You’re two thousand?” I asked. “I thought you were fifteen hundred.”

“Oh, for the gosh of sakes, everyone shaves a few hundred years off their age after a certain point. Just ask Pam.”

“Don’t ask Pam nothin’,” she spat. “You freakin’ Fairies are so full of shit. You should have told me she was as strong as you. Give me your hand.”

I did.

She produced a wicked-looking blade out of thin air and sliced into my palm before I even knew what happened. Gemma shrieked and tried to save me from further butchering, but The Kev held her back. I screamed in pain and tried to grab the knife from Pam, but it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.

“Look at your hand,” Pam demanded, snapping me out of my pain-induced haze. While it definitely bled, it was closing up immediately.

“Oh my God,” I gasped. “I heal like an old, old Vampyre.”

“Yep,” Pam said, staring daggers at The Kev. “How much Fairy blood has she had?”

“A lot,” he admitted, “but she needed it. I beat her up good.” He smiled gently at me, like a proud father. “She’s an excellent fighter now and she is controlling her Magic beautifully. As soon as she has weapons training she will be able to go against the best. Eventually she will be unbeatable. She will become a master.”

“She’d better,” Pam grunted, “because with all her fuckin’ bells and whistles, quite a few Vamps are going to want a piece of her.”

“We don’t know that for sure,” The Kev said hopefully.

“Yes . . . yes, we do,” Pam said so quietly I almost missed it.

Gemma sat on the couch looking pale and confused. I suppose I’d be thrown for a loop if I watched my best friend get sliced and found out the guy/Fairy I was crushing on was two thousand years old. I mean, what the fu . . . ?

Not only that, I knew she was having a tough time with my friendship with Venus. I needed to get them together, but both of them were being butts about it.

“Okay, both of you need to relax your cracks,” I said to The Kev and Pam. “I’m strong and magical and loaded with the potential to have every Vampyre I meet for the rest of my very unnaturally long life want to kick my ass or kill me. Whatever. What I’m concerned and freaked about is my mother.”

“Oh good God, that woman is pure evil.” Pam threw her hands in the air and fell back on the couch.

“She scares The Kev,” he muttered, pacing around the room.

“Do you think she knows?” Gemma asked me.

“I do. I really think she knows I’m a Vampyre, but that’s impossible.”

“No,” Pam said. “It’s not impossible, and she definitely knows.”

“Is she really going to die on Friday?” I could feel the tears welling up. Why did I even care? She wouldn’t give a shit if I died.

“You’re right, she wouldn’t,” Pam said.

“What? You can read my mind now?” I practically screamed at her.

“No,” she said, reaching out for me, “your face.”

I went to her. Pam had been more of a mother to me in the month I’d known her than Petra had been my entire life. Pam’s love may have been filled with wicked-looking knives and swear words delivered at decibels guaranteed to make your ears bleed, but it was real and from her heart. No matter how disrespectful and bratty I was with her, I adored her and loved her fiercely.

I curled myself up in Pam’s lap. I thought about sinking my fangs into her for comfort, but I felt like a tick after feeding from Gemma.

“Is she going to want me to change her into a Vampyre? Is that what she meant by not fucking up?” I sniffed.

“No,” Pam said quietly. A quiet Pam was not something I was comfortable with. I listened carefully. “No,” she repeated, “she can’t become a Vampyre. It would destroy her.”

“How do you know that?” I asked, confused.

“Trust me.” She turned me so our eyes met. “I know.”

There was more to this story, but Pam only revealed what she wanted, when she wanted.

“Is this one of those Angel things?” I asked, not daring to press it further.

She considered me carefully. I could tell she was weighing how much to say. She settled for, “Yes.”

“Well then, what am I not supposed to fuck up?”

The Kev put his head into his hands. Gemma put her arms around his shoulders and held him tight. Pam stared into space.

“I wish I knew,” she said. “I really fuckin’ wish I knew.”

 

[kenny0112]

Fashionably Dead (Hot Damned #1)
by Robyn Peterman
Genre: Funny
​

Spoiler: Chapter 11

My monsters were shocked and appalled. This was not part of our normal routine. They were pissed at me for waking them up at 8:00 AM. They shouted and screamed and flipped me off. Who knew that a change of schedule would turn them into such cranky little turds? I returned the middle finger salute and rolled out of my bed with superhuman, or rather, super non-human effort. I wasn’t happy to get up either. I was in the middle of a very graphic *** dream about that bad Vampyre. I just couldn’t get rid of him.

Getting up in the morning for a new Vampyre was a terrible thing. A very terrible thing. We were supposed to sleep during the day because we were stronger at night. We weren’t dead during the day and alive at night. We were dead all the time—we just liked to sleep when the sun was up because we tended to get crispy.

I was going back to work at the senior center today. I was informed that if I took anymore sick days from my art classes, my very old and talkative students were coming to my house to take care of me. That alone scared the shit out of me. So I was going in. I was fairly sure I wouldn’t eat anyone. Pam assured me I would be fine.

I tried to get an evening meeting, but apparently people over eighty-nine hit the hay at 6:00 PM sharp. Right about the time my monsters and I usually got up.

Pam laughed as I entered the kitchen. I couldn’t blame her—I’d be laughing too if I wasn’t so damn tired. I had on sweat pants and tennis shoes, a long sleeve turtleneck, a big floppy hat, sunglasses and my old boyfriend’s soccer goalie gloves from high school. To make things worse my face, the only skin exposed, was covered in thick white sunscreen. I was hot, as in sweaty not sexy. It was June, for God’s sake, and I was dressed for winter weather. However, the floppy hat and sunglasses slightly evened up my outfit’s chances for qualifying as summer attire.

Who was I kidding? I looked like a dork.

Thank God Almighty other Vampyres weren’t out during the day. I’d die if one of them saw me looking like this. Especially Ethan. Stop thinking about him. He’s a bad, bad Vampyre. I just wish I didn’t feel all tingly when I pictured his face . . . or his butt.

“Well, Asscan,” Pam gloated, “I don’t envy you.” She laughed and put down copies of my tax returns. Was nothing sacred? “You should probably think about a new career.”

“I’d make a great night watchman,” I snapped.

“There’s always phone ***,” she offered.

“Yep,” I replied and nailed her with a pillow. I grabbed my new Prada purse, and the keys to my old Toyota and headed for the front door.

“Have fun with the old folks,” Pam yelled after me.

I saluted her with my middle finger and left. I could hear her laughing all the way to my car.

***


“Did you get your boobs done?” Charlie asked, reaching out to cop a feel.

“No, I did not,” I said, swiftly moving out of Charlie’s grab range. “And if you try to grab my boob again I will yank that toupee off your head so fast you won’t know what hit you.”

“Awww, come on, give an old geezer a break,” he moaned, adjusting his false teeth and giving me a cute leer.

I slapped a wad of clay in front of him and moved on to the next row. Being back at the senior center felt good. I loved these cranky old bastards. Well, most of them. I could even kind of pretend I wasn’t a bloodsucking Vampyre for a couple of hours. Well, except for the fact I was covered in sunscreen and covered up like an Amish woman. Thank Jesus most of the class was practically blind. “Where are Martha and Jane?” I asked, dreading the answer.

No one said a word. They feebly beat on their clay and avoided eye contact with me. Oh shit. My stomach dropped to my toes. I hated those old bitches, but . . . “Did they die?” I asked in a tiny voice.

“Too mean to die,” an old gal whose name I could never remember yelled from the back of the room.

“They’re on the crapper,” cute little Niecey informed me. She was about four and a half feet tall with a shock of white hair that stood straight up on her head. “Been there for two days.”

A few in the class snickered. WTF?

“Do the nurses know?” I asked Niecey.

“Yep, said it’s their own damn fault,” she grinned, shaping her clay into a penis.

“Okay, um . . . why’s it their fault?” I asked, removing the phallus from her hands and giving her a new hunk of clay.

“Because they’re gonna try out for American Idol,” she told me, as if that made sense.

“I like cheese,” Charlie yelled.

“That’s great,” I told Charlie. “What does sitting on the toilet and trying out for American Idol have to do with each other?”

“Your bosom looks wonderful,” Niecey said, ignoring my question and creating another penis. I had to stop letting them play with clay. “We were so worried about you. That skinny bitch subbed for you and told us she hoped you got fired for cussin’ all the time.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I was gonna rip that skinny, skank born-again loser a new one. She’d been after my job for months.

“Yay,” Charlie yelled. “I just won five bucks!”

“Fine,” Niecey huffed, handing the money over.

“Told you she’d say fuck within the first ten minutes!” Charlie was thrilled. I noticed he’d made a set of knockers with his clay, or maybe it was testicles.

“Shit, did I say fuck?”

“Five more bucks,” he shouted.

Oh my God, he was taking bets on my potty mouth . . . and winning.

“Niecey, why’d you take a you knew you were going to lose?” I asked, handing her some paper and charcoals and removing another clay penis from her hands.

“Charlie’s cute,” she whispered. “I want to get in his pants.”

Had I had still been able to eat, I would have thrown it back up at the mention of Charlie in a sexual way. He had no teeth and no hair and was fond of grabbing any breast within reach. “Oookay, that sounds like a plan. Can you tell me why Martha and Jane have been in the bathroom for two days?”

“Laxatives!” She burst into laughter.

“Explain,” I said, grinning. I had no idea what in the hell she was talking about, but her laugh was contagious.

“I can’t,” Niecey snorted, unable to stop.

“They snuck into the kitchen and ate all the pies,” Mrs. Jenkins, a bulldozer of a little old lady shouted, throwing her clay at Charlie. Clearly he’d tried to adjust her lady bits.

“And?” I prompted, moving Charlie to the corner for his own safety.

“They have big plans to be rock stars on American Idol, but since they ate too much pie they felt fat,” Charlie said, placing his hand on my ass. I took Charlie’s hands and tied them to the chair with craft yarn. “Dang it, Astrid, how am I supposed to get some if I’m all tied up?”

“You’re not supposed to get anything in here except art lessons,” I snapped. “Finish the story.”

“Can I touch your butt again if I do?” he negotiated.

“Possibly.”

“Great!” he grinned. “They felt fat from the pies and have a tryout coming up, so they took an ass-load of laxatives to get skinny before they become stars.”

“Did you intend that pun?” I asked.

“What’s a pun?”

“Oookay, let me get this straight. Martha and Jane are trying out for American Idol, stole and ate pies from the kitchen, felt fat, took a wad of laxatives to get their figures back and are shitting their brains out as I speak.”

“She said shit,” Mrs. Jenkins bellowed. “I win ten dollars.”

I ignored her.

“That’s about right,” Charlie said. “Can I touch your butt now?”

“Sure.” I untied his hands and let him touch it for three seconds. “Aren’t they a little old to try out for American Idol?” They were ninety if they were a day.

“Don’t let them hear you say that,” Charlie whispered. “I only have one gonad left because I told them the same damn thing.”

“Has anyone checked on them?” I scanned the class.

“Nope, I’m not going near the ladies’ restroom,” Niecey said, still laughing.

“Hear it smells like road kill in ninety degree weather on that side of the building,” Charlie added and then blanched. The room went silent and I knew the killjoys had arrived.

“Hello, Astrid, we hoped you’d quit,” Martha said, gripping the door with her gnarled old claws.

Holy hell, they looked bad. They never looked good, but today they looked particularly not good.

“What in the hell happened to you?” Jane barked. “You look like a shiny albino.”

Of course Jane and Martha’s vision was outstanding . . . these two could suck the life out of anything. Considering I didn’t have one anymore . . . life, that is . . . I decided to play.

“I have a sun allergy. Heard you two had a little poopchute problem.”

They cast an evil glance around the room. “No, we’re fine,” Jane snapped. “What sort of unnecessary crap are you teaching us today?”

“I wouldn’t use the word crap if I were you. I’d think you’d had enough of that,” Niecey muttered under her breath. Charlie gave her a thumbs up and she blushed with delight.

“Shut up,” Martha hissed. “You are all worthless bags of flesh. We are going to be stars and leave you to rot in this disgusting redneck hellhole.”

“Well that’s lovely,” I smiled. “Are you going to join us today? I’d be happy to push a table over by the door, just in case you have to make a run for it.”

“Your days are numbered, you foul-mouthed piece of trash.” Jane shook her fist at me.

God, it would be so easy to flick my fingers and leave them bald and toothless and in their underpants. I was pretty sure using my new bloodsucker powers against old human ladies would be frowned upon, no matter how vile they were.

“Good thing you got an inheritance from that grandma of yours, because you’re gonna need it when they fire you for disgusting behavior and lack of skill,” Jane spat.

“She didn’t have a brain in her head, leaving you all that money. Stupid woman,” Martha added.

That was about all I could take. I’d been putting up with their shit—pun intended—for years. They could say whatever they wanted about me, but my Nana? Game over. They want to hear foul-mouthed? No prob. “Okay, well since I’m out of a job here soon why don’t you have a seat and work with your clay. If your old, saggy asses are too sore from shitting your brains out, you can stand. The assignment is to create a piece of fucking art that means something to you. Something that tells us about who you are. Niecey has made a penis and Charlie is working on some boobs, or possibly testicles. Mrs. Jenkins, what are you working on?”

“A whip and handcuffs,” she replied, giving me a wink.

“Oh my God,” Jane gasped, “this is sinful.”

“These aren’t boobs or testicles,” Charlie chimed in, holding his mound of misshapen clay up. “They’re ben wa balls!”

“That’s wonderful,” I said, giving him a high five and letting him touch my butt again.

“You are a spawn of the devil and probably a Democrat,” Martha shouted. She turned a very unbecoming shade of purple.

“Maybe,” I grinned, “but in my class, there’s a separation of church and state and bullshit. So I’d suggest you sit down, pick up your clay and make something that is a part of you . . . or was a part of you.”

“Like a pie or a pile of shit!” came a voice from the back of the room. Damn, I needed to learn that gal’s name . . . she was hilarious.

Surprisingly, at the end of my class I didn’t get fired, but the powers that be did ask me to watch my mouth. So much in my life was changing so fast that my little job at the senior center felt like the last part of me that was hanging on to my humanity—and I needed that.

 

[kenny0112]

Fashionably Dead (Hot Damned #1)
by Robyn Peterman
Genre: Funny
​

Spoiler: Chapter 12

There were people in my house and they were very unhappy. Unhappy with me? Unhappy with each other? Shit, after the day I’d had, could I not have one normal evening? Ever?

It smelled like lemons and grapefruit. Normally yummy smells, but not tonight. They were acrid and bitter. I was beginning to identify scents with their matching emotions, a very handy talent for someone with my bionic sniffing abilities. What I was smelling now qualified as jealousy and a little anxiety, mixed with distrust.

I plastered myself against the wall moving slowly to my den, worried that the emotions might be aimed at me. God forbid I’d need to defend myself. The Kev was convinced that I would be one of the great Vampyre warriors of my time. The Kev also thought silver stretch pants were high fashion.

I rounded the corner expecting to see zombies or werewolves or some other unbelievable entity like that, but it was worse. It was Gemma and Venus.

Together.

Gemma and Venus sat on opposite sides of the room and eyed each other warily. I felt like I’d gotten caught cheating with two guys at the same time. I hadn’t planned on them meeting each other without me present, but this kind of situation was par for the course in my life lately.

Venus was surrounded by garment bags, shoe boxes, and shopping bags all labeled Prada. Gemma was armed with chips, extra hot salsa, and an available wrist. What were the odds? Two of my favorite people with my favorite things in the world, and I had to choose? Shitballs.

I knew if I truly had to choose, it would be Gemma. Even though Venus and I had become very close, Gemma was my best friend. I prayed that I wouldn’t have to choose. I was sure we could work all this out. Maybe my confidence came from the fact that I was a materialistic bitch who wanted my cake (Venus and the Prada) and to eat it, too (Gemma and the chips and salsa flavored blood).

“Hey guys,” I yelled, hoping the sheer volume of my voice would distract them from their intense staring contest. No such luck. Damn, volume always worked for Pam.

“Hey hot mammas,” I shouted as loud as I could, “I see you’ve finally met! That’s fantastic!”

Well that did it. They stopped staring at each other and refocused their killer laser beams on me. They stared at me like I’d grown three heads and dangly parts. Both of them started to speak at once. I heard . . .

“I got hot salsa and the Warrior Prince is a formal taco stand. I brought clothes in shades of Black Raspberry Chip ice cream kind of melted but the stilettos should fit and it doesn’t matter how much blood you drink because you don’t have to wear pantyhose in the summer because if you get full they itch.”

They stopped and glared at each other.

“Oookay, that was seriously confusing, especially the part about the Warrior Prince being a taco stand,” I laughed, trying to thaw the icy chill in the room.

Ahh . . . nothing like laughing alone. Again.

“Okay look, I can’t deal with this shit right now. My morning consisted of getting my ass and boobs grabbed by an eighty-eight year old man while his wannabe gal pal made clay penises. That was nothing compared to the two mean old bags who took wads of laxatives due to an overconsumption of stolen pie. Of course they did this because they felt too bloated for their American Idol audition. They’re ninety.”

Silence. What in the hell did I have to do to catch a break? Time for a new approach.

“Gemma, I love you. I’ve loved you since we were four,” I said to a smiling Gemma, but before Venus could pitch a fit, I continued. “And Venus, I am adoring you tons, and really quickly too. Normally it takes me years to trust somebody, but I let you in immediately. I plan to love you for hundreds, even thousands of years.” Venus smiled and shot Gemma a nanner look.

“Hold it right there, little missy.” I busted Venus. “Don’t get too uppity. While Gemma may be mortal, she’s also something else. What exactly, I have no idea, but she could potentially be with us for hundreds or thousands of years. I personally hope like crazy that she will be. So we shall become a trio.”

They both groaned.

“That’s right . . . we will be the Three Musketeers of the Vampyre and Whatever-Gemma- Turns-Out-to-Be-World.” I clapped my hands three times and did a cheerleader herkie jump, causing both of them to gape at me in horror.

“Screw you,” I defended myself. “I was really good at those in high school. I have the trophies to prove it.” Doubling over in pain I muttered, “Shit, I think I pulled something.”

“Dude, that was twelve years ago,” Gemma blurted, trying to muffle her laughter. Venus didn’t even try. She just started guffawing. Of course, this gave Gemma permission to lose it, and she did. Which in turn, led them to high five each other and roll all over the floor laughing uncontrollably.

“It wasn’t that funny,” I shouted. My outburst only served to make them laugh louder and harder. God, if I’d only known that maiming myself would have brought them together, I’d have damaged myself sooner.

“Are you through?” I asked them. The joy they were taking in my self-inflicted bodily harm was starting to piss me off.

“Are you okay?” Venus asked, lying on the floor with Gemma’s head on her stomach.

“No, I’m not,” I said, limping to my couch. “You two need to get up and be kind to me,” I pouted. They both crawled over and sat on either side of me.

“Gemma and Venus,” I said, “now that you’ve bonded over my pain and humiliation, we’re all going to be friends.”

“Fine,” they said in unison.

“Actually,” Venus volunteered, “I’ve researched you, Gemma, and I’m aware of your love of Prada. It seems equal to Astrid’s.” I cleared my throat and gave Venus the eyeball. “Mine too,” she giggled. “I may have a little something in here that might interest you . . . ”

Venus dug through the bags, pulled out a beaded clutch and a black miniskirt from this season worth a small fortune and handed them to Gemma.

“Oh. My. God,” Gemma gasped, grabbed Venus by her shoulders and laid a big wet one on her cheek. “I am deeply, irrevocably, and materialistically in love with you.” I watched her wheels turn. She got even more excited, if that was possible, “Venus, what was your favorite food?”

Venus paused for a moment, surprised at the odd question, “Well, I’ve been a Vampyre for over two hundred years. When I was a mortal, food wasn’t very good.”

When in the hell wasn’t food good? She caught our gazes and looked down.

“I was a slave . . . food was sparse.” She paused and regrouped. “But I do remember grapes. I had them once or twice and they were delicious.”

Gemma and I sat in silence. My vision blurred as my eyes filled and I noticed Gemma’s nose turn red. Sure signs that we were about to cry.

“Stop,” Venus said, putting her hand up, “it was a long time ago, and even though my human life was hell, I avenged myself and my brothers and sisters sufficiently. Trust me, those who treated me and mine like animals died like animals.”

I supposed I was getting jaded about death. Possibly because I myself was dead, but I gotta say Venus’ story had a happy ending for me.

“I want to do something for you,” Gemma said to Venus and then quickly left the room.

“Is she okay?”

“You ,” I grinned. “She is going to blow your mind.” Venus looked alarmed. “In a good way,” I quickly added.

Gemma came back to the den with both red and green grapes in a bowl, “Which ones do you remember?”

“Is this a joke?” Venus growled. “You are aware I can’t taste any of that.” Her fangs descended and her eyes glowed green. I was glad I was seated between them. Gemma wouldn’t stand a chance against a two hundred year old Vampyre. Come to think of it, neither would I.

“It’s not a joke. Which ones? Red or green?” Gemma asked without an ounce of fear or concern.

“Red,” Venus said, trying to calm herself.

Gemma popped a bunch of red grapes into her mouth, chewed and swallowed, “It works with Astrid,” she told Venus with her mouth full. “I’m guessing it will work with you too.” She popped a few more grapes into her mouth and wedged herself in next to Venus. She held out her wrist. “Drink.”

Venus cautiously took her wrist, brought it to her lips and **** Almost immediately her eyes grew wide and tears soon followed. She took several long swallows and reverently released Gemma’s wrist, closing the wound with her tongue. Venus dropped to her knees before Gemma and whispered, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Gemma hugged her. “You can’t tell anyone. I don’t want a group of Vamps on my front porch with their favorite food in hand.”

“You have my word,” Venus laughed, wiping her eyes. “By the way, you’re only a small percentage human.”

“How do you know?” Gemma asked.

“Your blood gives me an unusual rush. I feel more powerful.” Venus was awed even further by Gemma.

“Do you know what she is?” I asked excitedly.

“No, that’s not one of my gifts. The only Vampyre capable of definitively identifying species by blood is our King,” Venus said.

“And he comes by . . . what? Every century or so?”

“Pretty much,” Venus laughed.

“You know what?” Gemma interjected, “I’m just getting used to the fact that I may not be what I thought I was. I’m not sure I’m ready to know what I am.”

“Got it,” Venus said.

“So,” I eyed the bags and boxes, “what are all those things for?”

“Don’t you mean who are all those things for?” Venus teased.

“Yes,” I said slowly, “that is what I meant, but I didn’t want to seem like a materialistic Prada whore.”

“But you are a materialistic Prada whore,” Gemma chimed in. Venus grunted in agreement.

“True,” I admitted, “but being one and copping to it are two entirely different things.”

“They’re for you,” Venus happily informed me.

Oh my God, somebody was screaming bloody murder. I whipped my head around to Gemma. Her mouth was closed. Venus? Mouth closed. Me? Not so much. Need to stop screaming now.

“You done?” Venus asked, tentatively removing her hands from her ears.

“Yes,” I answered, not quite sure if I was telling the truth. “Is there a reason for my windfall of Prada?”

“Oh yes, my friend,” Venus answered, sounding serious. “I am here to formally invite you to the Cressida House in the Haven of Kentucky. You are to be inducted and accepted into the North American Dominion of Vampyres.”

“What exactly does that mean? I thought I already belonged to the Cressida House.”

“You do. This is your formal induction because the Prince will be here. Basically it means you get dressed up in really hot clothes and go to a great party.”

“Cool,” I smiled, “do I get to keep the clothes?”

“You ,” she grinned and continued. “You will be presented to the Warrior Prince at the Congregant tomorrow night.”

“What’s a Congregant?” Gemma asked.

“It’s a trial,” I answered her. “Wait, tomorrow night?”

“Yep,” Venus said to me and turned back to Gemma. “It is a trial, but it’s much more. At the Congregant Vampyres with grievances may bring them before the Warrior Prince to be mediated and those accused of crimes will be sentenced.”

“To jail?” Gemma asked.

“To death,” Venus replied.

“Good God,” I butted in, “there’s no chance I’ll get sentenced to anything by trying to become a member of your club, is there?”

“No,” Venus laughed and tossed me a garment bag.

The three of us started flipping through the Prada as Venus got us up to speed on the bizarre world of Vampyre politics. The Warrior Prince would also be adding to his Elite Guard unit during the Congregant. This was one of the most prestigious positions a Vampyre could aspire to, especially one from the Cressida House.

The Cressida House’s main function was to train Vampyres to protect the Warrior Prince and the Royal Family. The Elite Guard consisted of thirty Vampyres, but word had it they were going to increase the number to thirty-four, possibly because of the Rogue Vampyre activity. God, that reminded me, I had never told Venus about the Vampyres I saw in the graveyard. I was sure they were Rogues. If I told her, I’d have to explain too many other things that Pam and The Kev didn’t want me to share. Shit.

“In order to join the Cressida House, a Vampyre must swear their loyalty to the Warrior Prince with a blood oath,” Venus said solemnly.

“Wait,” I said, forgetting all about the Rogues and dropped a smokin’ hot strapless black Prada dress to the floor. “I thought a blood exchange between Vampyres meant they were mated.”

Venus laughed and picked up the small fortune I’d so carelessly discarded, “No, you’re only mated if you drink from each other. A blood oath consists of slicing palms and grasping hands with the Warrior Prince.” She paused, thinking. “It is intimate, but it’s not even close to mating.”

“Thank God,” I said, slipping on a pair of drop dead stilettos. “Do I look good enough to go to the ball and meet Prince Charming?”

Gemma giggled, but Venus’ tone was serious, “Astrid, you cannot make light of the Warrior Prince. He is the most trusted and sacred leader we have. He is fair and kind and very ethical in a world where that’s very uncommon. It’s okay to be silly with me, but that’s as far as it can go. You can get in unspeakable trouble for talking ill of him. Soon you will love him and honor him as I do.”

“So we just slice palms and high five?” I teased her.

Venus rolled her eyes and nodded. “The Prince can drink directly from a subject during initiation. It would be considered an honor above all honors. It is very rare,” she continued, “and has never happened in the North American Dominion and probably never will.”

“What if he did drink from someone?” Gemma asked.

“Well,” Venus thought for a moment, “among other things they’d be halfway to a mating.”

“How romantic,” Gemma gushed.

I rolled my eyes, “So our Warrior Prince isn’t mated? Is he ugly?”

“No,” Venus practically spit, “he is definitely not ugly. The farthest thing from it. He is beyond gorgeous and beyond unavailable according to one of his top guards.”

“Oh, so he’s gay?”

Venus choked. Gemma slammed her on the back.

“Oh my God,” Venus gurgled, “he’s as straight as an arrow. His guards are male and female. The top aide I’m referring to is a female.”

“He’s not mated to her?” I asked.

“Nope, and she’s been guarding him for over a hundred years,” Venus gossiped.

“Get. Out. Of. Town.” I laughed, “That man is one hundred percent available.”

“What do you mean?” Gemma asked.

“If he had wanted to mate with his security female, he already would have. I mean . . . my God, if I dated or schtupped a guy for over a hundred years without a commitment that would make me a pathetic loser!” I was on a roll. “I’d have kicked his ass to the curb after fifty years.”

“Dude, you are so right,” Gemma agreed, slapped me a high five and hummed ‘Wanna be Startin’ Somethin’.

“Venus, don’t leave me hangin’, baby,” I said as I put my hand up for her to slap.

“You are one crazy Vampyre,” Venus laughed as she slapped me five.

“But you love me, don’t you?” I challenged with a big, shit-eating grin on my face.

“I do,” she laughed, shaking her head. “God help me, I do.”

 

[kenny0112]

Fashionably Dead (Hot Damned #1)
by Robyn Peterman
Genre: Funny
​

Spoiler: Chapter 13

You are H-O-T hot, I thought as I hung out in the Grand Foyer of the Cressida House, admiring my babysitter.

“I’m sorry?” he said with a twinkle in his gorgeous blue eyes.

Oh hell, did I say that out loud? Shit, shit, shit. I mean, he’s gorgeous, but I don’t want him to think I was checking him out . . . even though I was. That would be sexist and wrong and rude. God, what in the hell is wrong with me? He is not a piece of meat. He is a very nice, very handsome Vampyre guy who is showing me the ropes and he’s going to think I’m a crazy slut. I can’t believe I said the hot thing out loud.

“Actually you didn’t,” he grinned. “One of my gifts is mind reading.”

“Holy hell,” I gasped, mortified. “Did you hear all of that?”

“Yes,” he laughed. “And thank you.”

“Oh my God,” I pleaded. “Is there an off switch?”

“Yes,” he said slowly, “but with where your mind seems to be going, I’m loath to tell you.”

“Please?” I gave him a flirty smile. He returned the favor with a killer smile of his own. Were those dimples? Damn it, I loved dimples.

“Alright, but there’s a price,” he teased.

“What’s the price?” I asked, hoping it had something to do with my lips on his.

“If you keep having thoughts like that,” he informed me, grabbing his chest as if his heart was breaking, “there’s no way I’ll let you close me out of your mind.”

“Sorry,” I giggled. Damn, he was beautiful and sweet and silly with a fantastic ass and . . .

“Enough! You’re killing me,” he grinned. “Close your eyes.”

I did.

“Now visualize heavy metal doors, similar to garage doors. Reach for them and slowly pull them down. When you have closed all the doors, visualize heavy metal locks and lock them.”

I did.

“Is that it?” I opened my eyes in surprise.

“Yep,” he smiled, “that’s it.”

“Is it working?” I asked.

“I don’t know. Think of something wickedly sexual, something I would absolutely have to react to . . . and we’ll see.”

Were all male Vampyres were perverts? I envisioned something very naked, very sweaty and very vocal between the beautiful Vampyre and myself. I watched him closely for a reaction. Nothing. Thank God.

“What if I want you inside me?” I asked.

“Oh my sweet, you only have to ask,” he said. His eyes turned green and he laughed.

“Shit,” I blurted, “that came out totally wrong. I am so sorry. I didn’t mean inside . . . I mean, um, I meant my head. Inside my head.”

“I know what you meant,” he sighed, “but a man can always hope.”

If I could still blush, I’d be a tomato.

“If you want me inside you,” he teased as I rolled my eyes in embarrassment, “just unlock the doors and open them.”

“It’s that easy?” I asked.

“It’s that easy,” he replied with another beautiful smile. “Now Astrid, do you know what to do when you go into the ballroom?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Kind of,” I said, “but I’m at a loss.”

“A loss?”

“Yes,” I said slowly, “you know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

He paused and stared at me for a long moment. “Do you promise not to laugh?” he asked, the twinkle back in his eyes.

“With a set-up like that, I’m not sure,” I said, really liking this guy.

“Would you like to guess?” he asked.

“Rumplestiltskin?” I teased.

“Nope.”

“Herman?”

“Definitely not,” he shot back. “It’s Heathcliff.”

“Really?” I tried to stifle my giggles.

“Really,” he smiled. “My mother was a huge Wuthering Heights fan, and also a good friend of Emily Bronte.”

“My Nana loved Emily Bronte too. So you must be . . . ?”

“One hundred and forty,” he answered, watching my face for a reaction. He got one.

“Sorry,” I stammered, “it’s hard to wrap my head around that. You don’t look a day over thirty,” I added hastily.

“In mortal years, I was twenty-seven when my father changed me.”

That stopped me. “Your father?” I was astonished. “Vampyres can’t have children.”

“It’s a long story. He fathered my sister and me when he was mortal. He and my mother were changed when we were babies. My mother didn’t make it. My father was devastated, but he raised us and loved us. He waited until my sister and I were in our twenties and then gave us the option. We took it.”

“So your real biological family is still alive?” I was awestruck.

“Yes,” he said with pride, “other than the Royal Family, we’re the only biological Vampyre family.”

“Just don’t tell me your sister’s name is Catherine,” I joked.

“Okay,” he said sheepishly, “I won’t.”

“Get. Out. Of. Town.” I started laughing. “You’re kidding!”

“Nope, it’s Catherine. She goes by Cathy . . . you can meet her later. And yes, we take a lot of crap about our names. She is one of the Elite Guard for the Warrior Prince, as am I.”

“Where’s your dad?” I asked this one hundred and forty year old man who looked my age.

“He’s the leading scholar of Vampyre History and resides with our King. I believe they’re in Italy at the moment. They’ll be visiting the North American Dominion within the month,” he said, taking my hand and leading me to a settee.

“Astrid, when you enter the Grand Ballroom,” Heathcliff coached, “keep your eyes downcast until the Warrior Prince speaks to you.”

I was so glad he couldn’t read my mind, because that sounded like backward-ass feudal bullshit to me. Venus told me I had to behave, so behave I would.

“Okay Astrid,” he said. God, he was dreamy. “Someone will be out for you shortly. I have to go in now.” He squeezed my hand and turned to leave.

“Heathcliff,” I called after him.

“Yes?”

“Where do you live?” Hell, could I be more transparent?

He stopped and smiled, clearly delighted with my question. “I live wherever the Warrior Prince lives, but we stay in Kentucky often.” He winked at me, turned and left.

God, why couldn’t I have a boyfriend like that? I was sure I’d just embarrassed myself. There was no way someone who looked like that didn’t already have a girlfriend or ten or twenty.

Why in the world were all the Vampyres so good looking? Everything about the Vampyre world was exquisite—the Vampyres themselves, their homes, their clothes, their asses. For God’s sake, there was another one at the top of the stairs. From this distance he looked like a Greek god come to life.

The Cressida House might be gorgeous, but nowhere near as stunning as the Vampyre descending the Grand Staircase. God, this one may be better than Heathcliff. His name had to be Romeo or Fabio. He was the finest looking man I’d ever seen. Talk about hot; that guy could melt the polar icecap. He was so hot, he could melt panties . . . so hot that he could . . . wait. Holy hell, I knew him. Shit, shit, shit.

It was Ethan. My heart bounced around in my chest like a Ping-Pong ball. He was headed my way, the crazy Rogue killer Vampyre I’d been fantasizing about day and night. How in the world did he look better than I remembered? That wasn’t fair. Whatever. It didn’t matter how good-looking he was. It couldn’t erase the fact that he tried to kill me.

I frantically glanced around the foyer. Why wasn’t anyone around? If I ran he’d definitely notice and if I transported away, I’d probably be put to death by the Prince. Either way I end up deader than I already am. Shit, can’t I ever catch a break without being killed? Maybe he won’t see me if I stand really still. That’s stupid. Please God, let him walk right by and not notice that I’m standing next to the door that he’s moving toward. Please, please, please . . . damn.

He stopped dead in his tracks about six feet from me. He started at my stiletto clad feet, sliding slowly up my bare legs, pausing at my breasts that were firmly hugged by my black strapless Prada. From there his eyes traveled lazily to my neck, my lips, and finally my eyes. I saw delight and something I couldn’t define flash in his beautiful gold eyes as recognition hit. He recovered quickly, much quicker than I did.

“Hello Angel, you’ve been on my mind,” he said, walking toward me.

“Interesting. My mind erased you—and Angel’s not my name. Gotta go,” I mumbled, moving down the hallway at a sprint. Away from the ballroom and away from him. I’m supposed to meet the freakin’ Warrior Prince, not get murdered by a hot Rogue Vampyre.

Door, door, door . . . where in the hell was a door? If I could find a closet or a bathroom . . . wait. Did they even have bathrooms here? I mean, they don’t use them. For a place so huge you’d think they’d at least have a stupid closet, for shit’s sake.

I quickly glanced over my shoulder. Great, I’d lost him. At least one thing had gone in my favor. Now I just needed to find a . . . door! Thank God! I threw myself into what turned out to be a bathroom, evidenced by the toilet I tripped over.

“Crap, that hurt,” I muttered, getting up off all fours and turning on the light. I glanced in the mirror, hoping that they had a special one that a Vampyre’s reflection showed up in.

Nope.

“Okay . . . ” I explained to no one as I adjusted my dress. Sprinting, strapless dresses and stilettos didn’t go well together. “I’ll just stay in here for a few minutes and then find my way back. Hopefully Mr. Hot Pants Killer will be gone. I can meet the Prince, slit my wrist, get this stupid medieval bullshit over with and get the hell out of here.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Holy shit,” I screeched, hopping my butt up on the counter. Very poorly thought out move on my part as my ass landed in the sink. How did I not know he was in here? Damn, I sucked as a Vampyre. “Did you even think about knocking?”

“No,” Ethan grinned. “I find the element of surprise to be helpful, Angel.”

“I told you that’s not my name,” I insisted. I tried un-wedge my rear end, but a butt in a sink is a butt in a sink.

“No, it may not be,” he said, moving just a little bit closer, “but that’s what I think I shall call you.”

“What are you doing here?” I asked, changing the subject and hoping I didn’t look as ridiculous as I knew I did. “Did you and your Rogue friends get caught?”

He stared at me in amazed confusion for a moment. “Are you serious?” he asked.

“Of course I am, you dork.”

“Oh, little Angel,” he grinned with delight, “I’m not the Rogue. I’m the Rogue’s worst nightmare.”

“Really? How very Rambo of you,” I offered flatly. What was he? Some kind of Vampyre police? I was trying to keep my eyes on his face when they desperately wanted to roam his whole body, followed by my hands, then my mouth. Whoa there, Nelly. “So then I suppose you’re in trouble for ripping your sister’s limbs off?”

He laughed. Help me . . . he was even more beautiful when he laughed.

“I’m always in trouble, Angel,” he said, running his hand through his hair and watching me closely.

What was it with this guy? Heathcliff was as good looking as Ethan, but ol’ Heath didn’t make me want to rip my panties off. I couldn’t think straight when I was near this bad Vampyre. Damn it, if my ass wasn’t stuck in the sink I could make another run for it. He stopped inches from me. My insides started to tingle.

“You’re a mystery, little Angel.” With strong hands, he gently lifted me out of the sink and settled me on the counter. He slowly and deliberately ran his hands down my thighs. I had a burning desire to open them, trap him between them and make him see Jesus. What the fu . . . ?

I knocked his hands away and pressed myself against the mirror. I was hoping to put more than just a few inches between us. This murdering Vampyre was making me consider things no nice girl should ever consider—*** in a sink, for one.

He moved closer. I squeezed my eyes shut and pretended he was Charlie from the senior center. Not. Working. Shitfire. The seniors didn’t smell like he did. If he didn’t smell so damn good, I wouldn’t feel the need to knock him to the ground and ride him ‘til he was blind.

God, he really smelled like Heaven. I opened my eyes to find the sexiest killer alive a mere thought away from my lips. His eyes had changed from gold to green. He slowly ran his fingers down my neck and along my collarbone. I felt my nipples harden. His eyes flashed a brilliant green, and his lazy grin almost made me pass out. I was quite certain that he no longer wanted to kill me.

“Why are you here, Angel?”

He was so close I got confused. He was literally jumbling my brain. Was that his special Vampyre power, or was I just in heat? If he ran his fingers any closer to my traitorous boobs, I was going to have multiple orgasms. He smiled as if he knew what I was thinking.

“I have to go see your Warrior guy. Prince, thing . . . guy . . . .um . . . ” I mumbled.

“You must be in a lot of trouble.”

To my great dismay, I leaned into him. His lips feathered across mine and he made the sexiest sound I’d ever heard. Holy hell, he was making staying clothed very difficult.

“Why do you say that?” I gasped. He barely touched me, but if he did it again he was going to get slammed to the wall and manhandled by me. He’d probably love it, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to face myself in the mirror ever again. Wait . . . I couldn’t see myself in the mirror anyway. What if I just . . . NO. Ethan was a bad, bad ***-on-a-stick Vampyre man who tried to kill me. Am I so hard up that I need to suck face with a criminal? Well . . .

“Come back to me, Angel.” Ethan snapped me out of my fantasy with a twinkle in his eyes that led me to believe he definitely knew everything I was thinking. Shit. Was he a mind reader too?

“Why do you say I’m in so much trouble?” My voice sounded husky and far away. “You don’t even know if I did anything,” I said, frantically trying to close and lock the garage doors in my brain. All these Vampyres with gifts were killin’ me.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re his type,” Ethan said as his lips moved to my neck. Can’t think, can’t think, can’t think. I moaned.

My body melted as he lightly nipped and kissed my neck. I felt all noodley and he grabbed me before I fell back into the sink. Ethan pulled me to the edge of the counter, effectively lining up my lady parts with his very impressive man parts.

“What do you mean?” I whispered. I was quickly losing control of my modesty, not that I had that much to start with. But even I realized wrapping my legs around and pressing myself closer to a man I barely knew didn’t look so good. A man who until two minutes ago I thought might want to kill me. I didn’t even care. As crazy as it sounded, this psycho made me feel safe . . . or at least mind-alteringly horny. But what the hell did I know? I’d gotten hypnotized at a strip mall.

“You’re the Warrior Prince’s type,” he whispered into my ear, sending shivers straight to my girlie parts. “He’s been dead for so long, it’s rare for any woman to make him feel like a man.” He nipped my earlobe and I gasped. Dear God, I couldn’t remember my name. What’s my freakin’ name? “He’s too powerful, too feared—they treat him like a god instead of a man,” he continued to whisper and I continued to try to recall what people call me. “I don’t think you’re afraid of anything.” He ran his lips along my jaw, back to the corner of my mouth. I shuddered. What in the hell was he babbling about? Fear? Who?

His eyes bored into mine with an intensity that scared the hell out of me and made me want to tackle his ass at the same time, “I believe you could make him feel alive again.”

He grabbed my legs and inched me even closer. This was getting serious and I still couldn’t remember my stupid name. No getting away this time, even if I wanted to. I didn’t want to. I was crazy happy right where I was. I wove my hands into his hair, cupped the back of his head and pulled his lips to mine. His lips were soft and anything but gentle. He bit at my bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth. He teased my tongue with his own, sending little shockwaves through my body and waking up my very bad girl from her slumber. He tasted even better than he smelled. The pressure of him against me sent a hot heat coursing through my body. Turns out kissing a Vampyre was better than *** with a human one hundred times over.

*** with him would be . . . deadly. Maybe literally, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. I just wanted to . . . but I can’t. Oh God, I still didn’t know my name. My brain cells flew out of my head with every touch, every lick every . . . Oh. My. God. His hands moved down and roughly grabbed my ass and ground me into an erection so impressive I damn near fainted. There was no doubt that he wanted me as much as I wanted him.

My barely-there thong was soaked and my body had taken over for my brain. Much to my great shock and secret delight I was grinding and writhing against the gorgeous Vampyre and I even . . . wait.

Astrid! My name is Astrid.

I was on the verge of breaking every rule I’d ever made for myself, but the gorgeous Vampyre was having a difficult time holding onto his control too. The sounds that were coming from deep in his body made my brain skitz out. I answered back with my own moans of pleasure. I melted against him, pliant and oh so willing. I knew if I died right now, I mean for real dead, I’d die happy.

The power I felt over him was as intoxicating as his kiss. I could do this forever. Whoa. What the fu . . . ? No, no, no. This is wrong . . . The burning in my gums led me to believe my fangs decided to show up and I wanted to bite him. Bad. That’s right, I wanted to bite him and drink from him. I wanted to sink my fangs into him and claim him as mine. Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine. But that would mean something . . . damn it, what did it mean if I bit him? If he hadn’t sucked out all my brain cells I could remember why it would be a bad idea.

Whatever. I was done trying to listen to my rational self. It was time to throw him to the floor and ride him like a cowboy. I didn’t care if the whole ballroom came out and watched me have *** in a bathroom with a killer Vampyre.

But wait . . . we were clearly not on the same page. Why did he stop? What in the hell was he saying? The pre-coital ringing in my ears made hearing anything but moans virtually impossible . . . was he actually talking? For real?

“The Prince will want you.”

“What?” The Prince will what?

“He will want you more than he’s ever wanted anything in his whole life. He will want you in his bed. Naked and pinned beneath him.”

I froze.

“That’s disgusting,” I practically spit. I pushed Ethan the Greek god, the man of every sexual fantasy I’d ever had, off of me. He stumbled back, surprised by my strength.

“What are you, his wingman? Scoping out new Vamp-meat for Prince Jackass? Taking me for a test run, you jerk?” I hissed, trying to block out the fact that less than a minute ago I was ready to get naked and sink my fangs into this asshole and claim him for eternity.

Before I even saw him move, he was back up in my face, his body flush with mine. Brain cells, brain cells, brain cells, why have you forsaken me?

His eyes bored into mine, “Little Angel, I would suggest you be careful. Not everyone is as lenient as I am when it comes to bashing the Prince.”

“Your Prince sounds like an oversexed asshole rapist,” I gasped, trying to get Ethan off of me. My struggles were embarrassingly pathetic.

What in the hell was wrong with me? This asshole, while rubbing all over me, was informing me that I would be having *** with his even bigger asshole Prince. First he tried to kill me, now he was ready to pimp me off to his almighty Lord and Master. Why in the hell was I still turned on by him?

“I’m not sure there is such a thing as oversexed and he’s definitely not a rapist,” he laughed, cupping my face between his very large hands. “I assure you, the Prince can be an asshole, but he has never taken an unwilling woman to his bed. Ever.”

I pushed him away again, and again he seemed surprised by my strength. Uh oh, I needed to pull back or he might start asking questions I couldn’t answer.

“You should take heed, little Angel,” he said, “he gets what he wants . . . and he will want you.”

“Well, he can’t have me,” I told him.

He thankfully seemed to be ignoring my power for the moment. What was I thinking? He saw me disappear in a cloud of Fairy Glitter in the graveyard.

“We shall see, little Angel, we shall see.”

He ran his fingers lightly across my collarbone and down my arm. His sexy smirk was back. “I’ll be seeing you. Soon.”

“Don’t on it.”

He kissed me lightly and then he was gone. My hand went automatically to my lips and the rest of me went boneless. Thankfully there was a sink to catch my fall.

 

[kenny0112]

Fashionably Dead (Hot Damned #1)
by Robyn Peterman
Genre: Funny
​

Spoiler: Chapter 14

After three tries I found my way back to the ballroom foyer and was greeted by some very attractive, no-nonsense Vampyres. They said very little and made me feel uncomfortable. Screw ‘em.

After standing there in silence for what felt like an hour with the most boring Vamps I’d met yet, it was finally time to go. I entered the Grand Ballroom as if I were walking to the guillotine.

What a freakin’ crazy day . . . and it wasn’t even over. First, I’d flirted with a beautiful Vampyre named Heathcliff, who turned out to be five times my age and probably thought I was easy. Second, I’d been willingly molested by a very sexy and dangerous Vampyre who definitely assumed I was easy. Now I was going to slap bloody palms with another guy who hopefully knew nothing about my loose morals . . . although according to Ethan this Prince guy was going to want to do me. Not gonna happen. I was done with Vamps. They were nuts. Well . . . Heathcliff seemed nice.

As we made our way in, there was a Vampyre on either side of me and one directly behind me. No escaping now. My eyes were downcast and I had no idea where I was going. Thankfully I was sandwiched between the ridiculously serious Vamps, or I’d have walked into a wall. The marble floors were very pretty and very clean.

Thank Jesus for my nose. At least I could get a sense of what was going on by the scent in the room. The smell thing had taken some getting used to, but it had been worth it. I’d learned how to turn it off when I was around garbage or other foul smelling things, and I’d almost mastered how to focus on one person or area. It was very handy for assessing human or non-human intentions. I could smell anger, sadness, jealousy, arousal, hatred . . . all kinds of emotions. Right now the overriding emotions in the ballroom were curiosity and excitement.

I could smell Venus. She smelled like jasmine mixed with a touch of vanilla. She was happy and nervous for me. It was comforting to know she was close by. Hard to admit, but I was scared. This was all so formal and unfamiliar it made my stomach churn. It felt like a movie, and I was the dumb heroine on the verge of an event that would change her life. Permanently. Crap.

Focus. You’re a Vampyre and you have to do this. If I turned and ran, I’d probably be punished . . . by death. Fuck, life was so much easier when I was an art teacher who smoked. Just sniff people—get your mind off of dying. Thankfully I could smell Heathcliff. He was spicy with a hint of brown sugar. He was glad to see me again. I sensed anticipation and attraction from him. Heathcliff was so solid and kind. Not like that disgusting Ethan at all. Why couldn’t ol’ Heath be part of the Vampyre sandwich surrounding me? I wanted to look up and find him, but I didn’t dare.

And then it hit me. There was a scent in the room that overwhelmed all the others. It made me angry and confused. I recognized it at once, as if I’d always known it. Ethan was in this room somewhere. I so needed to stay away from him. He smelled like Heaven. Clean laundry right off the line, summer breezes with hints of orange blossoms and ***. He also smelled dangerous. The scent was indescribable, but it was very masculine and very hot.

I assumed he was one of the Elite Guard with Heathcliff. He’d have to be, to know so much about the Warrior Pig’s, whoops, Prince’s sexual habits. He seemed to know way too much. What did he do? Watch? All of these Vampyres were perverts. Ethan was probably the biggest pervert of them all. No matter how good he smelled or how hot he was, he was a jerk. Next time I saw him, I’d tell him. With my luck, he and Heathcliff were best buds. That would suck.

My Vamp sandwich was guiding me to my knees. Nobody said anything about kneeling. Shit, it was seriously difficult to kneel in a super short dress and stilettos. I couldn’t believe I had to kneel to the Warrior Idiot. I grabbed the elbows of my totally not-hilarious escorts and made them help me down.

These Vamps clearly worshiped their Pervert Prince. So did Venus. So did Heathcliff. Wait . . . something wasn’t adding up. Ethan had to be full of it. Just because he was a sexist asshole, didn’t mean the Warrior Prince was too. Did it? He could have been lying to me about the whole *** with the Prince thing.

I had no idea why he would have done something so awful and stupid, but he must have. Maybe he got off on scaring the new Vamps. He was such a total asshole. I could only imagine what would happen if anyone knew what he had said about the Prince. He would be punished. Speaking blasphemously of the Prince was punishable by death. Not that I would tell—Ethan was far too pretty to die. Furthermore, I could hold it over his head for eternity. I grinned at the thought of having something on him. That would teach him not to screw with the heads of newbie Vampyres.

Venus loved and respected the Warrior Prince. I trusted Venus more than I trusted Ethan. My brain cells evaporated around Ethan. You couldn’t trust someone who brought out your inner slut. Thousands of Vampyres couldn’t be wrong. In such a violent society, the Prince would have to be extraordinary to have the loyal following that he did.

Speaking of violent, I felt the chilled handle of a jewel-encrusted knife being pressed into my hand. It was heavy, and I’m sure worth more than my house. This was the knife I would slice my hand with to prove my loyalty to the Warrior Prince. I wondered if I got to keep it. Gemma and The Kev would be so impressed. I would slice my palm as he sliced his, then we would join hands and mix our blood. Our lives would forever be intertwined. I would pledge to guard his life as I would my own. I really thought all of this would piss me off, but suddenly I felt excited and nervous and ready. God, what if I did something stupid? Please, please, please let me get through this without doing anything embarrassing. Let me make Venus and Heathcliff proud.

I sensed about six hundred Vampyres in the ballroom to honor their Prince. He had to be amazing. He couldn’t be the sexual predator that Ethan made him out to be. If anyone was a sexual predator, it was Ethan, although I’d most of his victims were more than willing. God knew I was. When I met up with that bastard again, I’d just nod politely and ignore him. I was safe as long as I wasn’t alone with him. If he got me alone I’d knee him in the balls and run like hell.

Mr. Humorless on my right began speaking. I kept my head bowed.

“My Liege,” he said, “I present to you Astrid of the Cressida House in the Haven of Kentucky. We ask His Excellency to accept this humble servant into the North American Dominion. She would be honored to co-mingle her blood with yours and to pledge her loyalty to you and the Royal Family. If it is your desire to bestow the gift of citizenship upon Astrid, please call to her. She has come to serve.”

Mr. Stick-in-the-mud paused. This was C-R-A-Z-Y, crazy. I’d come to serve? Humble servant? What in the hell was wrong with Vampyres? My babysitters were pulling me to my feet, and as told, I kept my head down. I wanted to giggle. This was too damned serious. I felt like I was in church with all the kneeling and standing and bowing of heads.

“Astrid of the Cressida House,” said a male voice. A familiar male voice. A very familiar male voice. No way . . . No, no, no. What the fu . . . ? I wanted to stamp my feet and scream. This could not be happening.

Instead of turning around and running out of the room, or finding a silver stake and ramming it through my chest, I raised my head. Slowly. Praying that I was wrong about what I knew I wasn’t wrong about.

“Do you swear your loyalty to me? Will you be my humble servant and . . . serve me?” The voice was amused, his words laced with double entendre.

I felt my eyes go green with fury when they met the breathtaking gold of his. He smiled that sexy smile, and before I could stop myself I embarrassed my entire House and possibly the whole North American Dominion. Not to mention I put my life in incredible danger.

I called him an asshole. To be more precise, I used the F-word, with an ‘ing’ before the asshole part. That was when my three escorts tackled me.

***


“Get off of her,” Ethan, The Warrior Prince of the North American Dominion roared.

“My Liege,” I heard a woman speaking urgently to him, “she has no right to desecrate you in that way. She will be dealt with and punished accordingly. I will deal with her myself.”

What in the hell did that even mean?

“She had every right,” Ethan said, dismissing her with his tone and a wave of his hand. He addressed the pile on top of me. “Remove yourselves from her at once and bring her to me.”

The chaos and snapping fangs were surreal. I had no clue what was happening. Were they going to kill me? I was terrified, pissed, and in severe pain. The burning in my thigh was due to the dagger sticking out of it. The beautiful blade that I was set to slice my hand with was embedded deep in my thigh. A small side effect of being tackled by a gaggle of Vampyres, and it hurt like a bitch. Furthermore, they completely ruined my Prada dress. Knife in thigh? Fine. Lying asshole Prince? Whatever. Torn Prada? Unforgivable. Unfortunately, I did what was becoming very natural for me. I let it all hang out. Pam would kick my ass later, but her right hook was the least of my worries at the moment.

I lifted my hands and let the glitter fly. I’d freeze every last one of their undead asses and make a run for it. This was not one of my better plans. Damn it, if they hadn’t screwed with my dress none of this would have happened. It would take more Magic than I had to immobilize that many Vamps. There were six hundred of them. I only froze the Vampyres within twenty feet of me. Bizarrely, they didn’t just freeze. They were definitely frozen, but they were also dangling helplessly in the air. I wasn’t quite sure how I did that, but it worked. Of course the dangling Vampyres discouraged any others from getting too close. I suppressed a totally inappropriate giggle at the sight of fifty or so Vampyres floating in the air like helium balloons.

“Angel,” Ethan said to me, “let them down. They will not hurt you.”

“They already did,” I shot back, referring to my bloody mangled thigh that was healing as I spoke. “And why in the world should I believe anything you say? Oh, and by the way, my name is not Angel,” I yelled at him.

“Look at me,” he said.

I refused.

“Look at me,” he repeated.

I refused again.

“Please . . . look at me, Angel,”

I did. My first mistake.

“I will not let them hurt you. I will not let anyone hurt you ever again.”

There was a collective gasp throughout the ballroom. Ethan’s golden eyes bored into mine with such an intensity that I felt a little drunk.

“I want proof,” I told him. He was too good at this and I had too much to lose. Like my life.

“Let me come to you and I will give you proof,” he said. His eyes never left mine for a moment.

I sensed hatred being shot at me from somewhere to his left. Scanning the group surrounding him, I found her. If looks could kill I would be so dead right now. Five bucks says she was the one who wanted to deal with me and punish me. Yikes. She had to be the girlfriend, and she was beautiful. Not only was she beautiful, she was the female version of Heathcliff. Please don’t tell me the pathetic loser that had been schtupping Ethan for a hundred years was Cathy. This did not bode well for so many of my future plans. She was furious and, quite honestly, looked a little unstable.

“Ethan,” she said to him, “I don’t think . . . ”

“Let me come to you,” he repeated, cutting her off and ignoring her. She stepped back, humiliated.

“Yes,” I told him, “but only you.”

“It will only ever be me, Angel,” he said, striding towards me. Again with the collective gasps. What in the hell was he talking about only me? He was crazy. Why did I trust him? Why? Why? Why? Because I was an idiot, that’s why.

He was so close I could touch him, but I wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. His eyes flashed with disappointment and I turned away before I changed my mind and jumped him or punched him.

“Let them down, Angel,” he said gently.

“You said you had proof,” I told him, refusing to look at him or to back down.

“Are you absolutely sure that you want proof?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said, slowly glancing up.

“One hundred percent sure?” he asked, smiling wickedly.

“I think so.” Mistake number two.

“Very well then,” he said, turning to address all the Vampyres in the ballroom. “Astrid of the Cressida House, known as Angel only to me,” he paused, letting that one sink in, “will become a member of my Elite Security Force. As you can plainly see, she is gifted and has the ability to protect me in . . . creative ways.” With a smirk, he indicated the fifty of his warriors floating in the air around him.

The silence in the room was palpable, and he continued. “I also believe that she is the Chosen One. The one from our Prophecies. The One we have waited for.”

Again with the collective gasps, but this time I joined in. What on earth was he talking about? Chosen what?

“That’s not possible, Your Highness,” Cathy quickly retorted. “She must be one with the Angels and Fairies. She must be able to control Demons.”

Ethan, with his back to her, quietly demanded, “Do you have knowledge that she cannot do these things?”

“No, my Liege, I do not.” She wasn’t backing down.

“Then I would suggest you keep your opinions to yourself.” He was very polite, but there were daggers sticking out of every word. Good God, remind me never to get on his bad side. He was very still—he looked inhuman, like a beautiful furious statue.

“Yes, my Liege.” She backed way down.

Before my eyes, he went from deadly Vampyre Prince back to sexy, lying piece of shit. Scary Vampyre Leader Guy was gone. He was Ethan again.

“Was that the proof?” I asked.

“No,” he replied.

“What’s the proof?” I asked, getting exasperated with him. He grinned and my tummy flipped.

“This is.”

It happened so fast. I couldn’t have stopped him if I tried, and sadly, I didn’t try. In an instant his fangs elongated and he yanked me to him. There was a searing pain in my neck as he bit me. My skin ripped like paper and the sound that left my lips was inhuman.

I was falling through the rabbit hole like Alice in Wonderland. He wanted to kill me, and this time he would succeed. I was so stupid. His arms were like steel vises holding me immobile against his body. Why did I let him come near me? He’d been nothing but bad since the moment I met him. I screamed again. Every nerve ending in my body was pushed to its limit. Everything was getting dark and a loud ringing pierced my ears. Why wouldn’t Venus or Heathcliff save me? I thought Venus was my friend. I would save her. From above myself, I heard the sobs rip from my chest. I struggled against him to stop the burning exploding through my body, but he was too strong for me and the blood loss was blocking my Magic. From the sounds he was making, he was getting some perverse sexual satisfaction from killing me. I hated him.

What a horrible way to die . . . at least I had good underwear on. Wait, something is not . . . oh, no. The pain slowly subsided and turned into something else, something far worse. He still drank from me. I knew this was significant, but for the life of me, I couldn’t remember why.

The pain was replaced by a heat that started low in my abdomen and slowly wound its way through me. Strong hands were roaming all over my body touching me everywhere, and I mean everywhere. Stroking, teasing, pinching, squeezing, probing . . . Oh. My. God. He wasn’t trying to kill me, but it would have been better if he had. It was hazy as to exactly when my screams turned into moans, but they did. Oh God, if he didn’t stop soon, my moans would turn back into screams. That would be bad. Crazy, embarrassing bad.

I was sure Cathy wailed “No!” at some point, and through my blurry vision I thought I saw Heathcliff hold her back. He looked so sad and disappointed. I couldn’t understand why. I couldn’t understand anything. And then I exploded.

Ethan pulled his fangs out of my neck right after I had the best orgasm of my life in front of a ballroom filled with hundreds of Vampyres. Hatred didn’t even begin to cover what I felt for him. He bit into his own tongue, leaned into my neck and licked the puncture wounds he’d made, officially co-mingling our blood. I was weak, pissed, dizzy and bizarrely satiated, like I’d just had great *** for three hours.

As much as I hated him, I had to admit that was one fantastic . . . no, wait. Oh shit, no . . . what just happened? Was I halfway mated to him? If he wasn’t already dead, I would kill him.

“What in the hell did you do?” I yelled.

“What I was meant to do,” he informed me smugly. “What I wanted to do from the moment I laid eyes on you.” He leaned in and continued his crazy talk at a whisper, “I did what I’ve never even been tempted to do to anyone else in my entire five hundred and twenty-two years.”

I stared at him, my mouth agape. I wanted to slap him. Then he mouthed something to me. I wasn’t positive, but it looked like You’re mine. He was grinning from ear to ear, speaking in full voice again, “You wanted proof? You have it. No one will ever harm my intended mate. It is punishable by death.”

The ballroom exploded into applause. I assumed they were clapping for the Prince. For the Prince’s joy at being halfway mated to the crazy Vampyre girl with powers that could suspend them midair if she didn’t like what they had to say. That was flat out strange. If bloodsucking and orgasms equated to engagement announcements, this Vamp world was more screwed than I thought. My chest was tight and I wanted to run. I had to get away from all of these insane dead people. Especially Ethan. I looked around and tried to find Venus amidst all the jumping, cheering, whistling Vampyres, but it was impossible.

I did spot two people who had not joined in on the celebration . . . Heathcliff and Cathy. She was staring at the floor and he stood stiffly beside her. I caught his eye and held his gaze for a moment. He looked away. I barely knew him but I felt as if I’d betrayed him. When did my life get so fucking complicated?

I wasn’t sure if it was the blood loss or the fact that I was halfway mated to someone that had tried to kill me, lied to me and gave me an orgasm in front of six hundred Vampyres, but I was fading fast.

But a promise was a promise. Right before I blacked out, I stretched my fingers out to the floating, applauding Vampyres and released them. I vaguely remember hearing thuds and groans as everything went black.

 

[kenny0112]

Fashionably Dead (Hot Damned #1)
by Robyn Peterman
Genre: Funny
​

Spoiler: Chapter 15

Oh my God, it was so soft. I moaned and sank farther down into my bed. My bed had never been so cozy. I stretched and snuggled deeper under the covers. When did I buy such amazing sheets? How in the hell did I afford them? I didn’t remember owning such soft, gorgeous sheets. They had to be at least a thousand thread count. Shit . . . I didn’t own soft, gorgeous, thousand thread count sheets or a bed this huge . . . which meant this wasn’t my bed. I was in someone else's bed . . . naked. What the fu . . . ?

Think, think. Where was I? I was at the Cressida House to get initiated and then I got drunk and went home with some random Vampyre. No, that wasn’t even possible. Number one, I didn’t drink. Number two, Vampyres couldn’t get drunk because they only drank blood. Alright, that scenario was out . . . I remembered Heathcliff. Sweet, handsome Heathcliff and then . . . what happened after that? It was on the tip of my brain. I saw Ethan, and then . . . oh shit.

It all came flooding back to me in a hurricane of mortification. Dangling Vampyres, screaming orgasm, pissed off girlfriend, gaping hole in thigh, ruined Prada dress, halfway mated to an extraordinarily beautiful, crazy, scary, lying bastard Warrior Prince.

Maybe if I closed my eyes it would all go away.

I tried.

It didn’t.

Son of a bitch, how many things could go wrong for me in two months? I died and I’m engaged? All this because I quit smoking? Really? Movement on the ceiling caught my eye. To my great joy, there were monsters up there. Not my monsters, other little ugly babies. I waved. Maybe they could help me escape.

“Hi,” I whispered, just in case anyone was around. “I’m Astrid. Some of you live at my house.”

They stopped dancing and stared at me, shocked and pleased to be noticed. They began to wave and shriek and show off. I giggled and threw some Glitter Magic to them. They ate it and went bonkers.

These guys were bold. They were trying to jump off the ceiling and come down to me. I was sure that was a very bad idea. The Vamps already thought I was a freak. I didn’t want them to know I was a monster magnet.

“No, no.” I pointed at three of them who were ready to go. “You stay.” Thankfully they did. Amazing. Something that actually listened to me.

The little monsters were so special. I was delighted that they lived on ceilings everywhere. I debated getting out of the bed and dancing with them, but decided against it. No telling who would walk in, plus I was naked and I wasn’t sure where I was. As their dancing hit psychotic levels, I realized they were not a good escape plan. I was assuming I was still at the Cressida House. Hopefully in Venus’ room . . . although this looked a little opulent for a regular Vampyre.

The bed was a huge, hand-carved, four poster work of art. The wood was dark and rich. The bedding was covered in olive and cream brocades with thick down comforters in dark navy. Everything was insanely soft and expensive. There must have been twenty pillows on the bed. Definitely not Venus’ room.

I sat up and really looked around. The rest of the suite followed suit. There were thick Persian rugs, and dark wood furniture mixed with chocolate leather chairs and couches. A huge stone fireplace dominated one wall. The curtains on the floor to ceiling windows looked like they belonged in a French Renaissance castle, but the pièce de résistance was the chandelier. It was stunning—tier upon tier of the most exquisite crystal drops I’d ever seen. I loved anything that sparkled, and this put everything I’d ever admired to shame.

The more I thought about it, the more I was convinced this was his room. How did I get here? I could only guess. Why was I naked? I didn’t want to know. Did I need to get out of here? You .

“Hey guys,” I questioned my new monster buddies, “do you know where my clothes are?”

“Over there,” a female answered.

“Oh my God.” I was flabbergasted. “You guys can talk?” They were far more advanced than my monsters. They were flipping, punching each other in the head, running in circles and screaming. Well, a little more advanced. There was so much commotion I couldn’t figure out which little cutie had spoken.

“You need to stay still,” I told them. “Whichever one of you little dudes spoke to me needs to do it again.” Maybe they could help me escape, but more importantly, I they could tell me how to teach Rachel and Ross and Honest Abe to talk. Beyonce was another story. She had issues.

“Come on, please,” I begged. “When did you learn to talk? Did someone teach you?” If they would tell me their secret, I could talk with my babies instead of at them.

“Let me see . . . it was about two hundred years ago and my mother taught me,” Venus said, staring at me from the doorway.

“Shit!” I screamed. “You scared me to death.”

The monsters shrieked and disappeared.

“That’s impossible,” she replied coldly, “you’re already dead.” Her arms were crossed over her chest and she wasn’t liking me much.

“Who were you speaking to?” she asked.

“Um . . . nobody?”

She was silent. She slowly walked into the room, grabbed clothing off of a chair and threw it on the bed.

“Friends don’t lie to friends,” she stated flatly.

“Friends didn’t lie to friends,” I said, and she snorted. “Certain friends were really scared and freaked out, so they didn’t lie . . . they omitted. Certain friends had other friends from different species that arrived before friends who are accusing friends of lying. Those other friends told her not to tell certain things.” I was confusing myself.

“There is no reason in hell I should have followed that, but somehow I did.” Venus said, walking toward the bed. “Were you just talking to those certain friends?”

“No.” God, how to explain this . . . “Actually, the certain friends who told me not to tell certain things don’t know about the friends I was just talking to.”

“Jesus Christ, Astrid,” Venus grabbed her head. “I can’t keep up with you. To tell you the truth, I’m not sure I want to.” She turned to go.

“Wait!” I was desperate. I was losing my mind. My hands shook and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to cry or scream or punch something. Everything was spinning so far out of control I didn’t know how much longer I could hold on. As panic threatened to overtake me something warm and sweet rushed through me, straight out of my fingertips. Something in me clicked. It was Pam. The panic was gone. I felt Pam’s love envelope me. I couldn’t see her, but I could feel her spirit inside of me. She was letting me know I could talk to Venus and it would be okay.

“Please stay with me,” I begged.

Venus slowed and turned back to me, shaking her head, “Astrid, I . . . ”

“Please.” I could feel the tears coming.

“All right,” Venus said slowly. She walked back to the bed, sat on the edge and waited.

“Venus, I need your word that I can trust you.”

She moved to the bedside table and retrieved a dagger. The same jeweled dagger I stabbed my thigh with. Why in the hell was that in here? She sliced her palm and handed me the knife, I sliced my own. Shit, that hurt. Venus didn’t even flinch. I wish I could say the same. She grasped my hand and our blood co-mingled.

“What you tell me, I will guard as if it were my own,” Venus told me, “and you will do the same.”

I nodded and patted the bed. “You’d better sit.”

She did.

I started at the beginning. I told her how I got changed by the big blonde Amazon without my knowledge or consent. I described how I came home and found Oprah, who turned out to be my foul-mouthed, nosey, fiercely loyal Angel named Pam. How from there I was graced with my style-challenged Fairy, who was a doppelganger for Arnold Schwarzenegger. How he had taught me in a very short and very violent time how to fight to the death and how to control my Magic.

Then I explained my monsters. They started out as cracks in my bedroom ceiling, but the longer I stared, the more alive they became. My monsters were so ugly they were cute. They were about three inches tall and looked like tiny people. I suppose I thought of them as my babies. The babies I would never have now that I was a Vampyre. I loved them.

“I was afraid if I told someone about them, they’d go away,” I admitted. “I’ve lost so much already. I couldn’t bear losing them too.”

“Is that who you were talking to?” Venus asked, trying to wrap her head around my crazy story. I was just thankful she didn’t run from the room screaming.

“Yes and no,” I explained, “they were similar monsters, but they weren’t mine. Turns out they live on ceilings everywhere,” I smiled ruefully. I was still nervous she was going to bail on the insane Vampyre girl.

“Can I see them?” she asked.

“I don’t know.” I looked up. The monsters were back. “I don’t know,” I repeated. “Can you?”

Venus looked up and stared at the ceiling. Hard. “No, I can’t.”

I glanced up and wondered why in the hell I could see them. They giggled and waved and stomped on each other’s heads. I realized I didn’t care why. I was grateful I could.

“That’s okay,” I consoled her, “you’re strong and don’t need them.”

“No,” she replied, examining me strangely, “you don’t need them either. They need you.” She took a huge pause and continued searching my face. “You are the Chosen One,” she whispered, dropping to her knees next to the bed.

“Get up, you’re freaking me out,” I blurted, yanking on her arm.

“Astrid.” Venus was excited. She grabbed me and hugged me hard. “You are. You are the Chosen One.”

“No,” I gasped, trying to peel her off of me, “I’m not. I don’t want to be the Chosen One. I’m still not a hundred percent sure I want to be a Vampyre. I am a materialistic Prada whore who teaches art to old people. There’s no way I can be the Chosen One.” I paused. “What in the hell is the ‘Chosen One’?”

Venus’ excitement freaked me out. “The Chosen One is beloved by Angels and Fairies and can control Demons.”

“I don’t know any Demons,” I yelled at her, “except for Ethan.”

“Don’t you see?” she went on, ignoring my slam on her Prince, “Angels and Fairies don’t ever even acknowledge Vampyres. Our breeds only come together in times of war . . . and hopefully then it’s as allies, because Angels and Fairies are the fiercest warriors in the Universe.”

I was still confused.

“Angels and Fairies are from the Light, from life,” Venus explained, “and Vampyres are from the Dark, from death.” She touched my face. “You are the Light who lives in the Dark. You will save us.”

“Holy shit.” I threw myself back on the bed. “I thought I was crazy. Did you not get the part that I don’t know, and therefore cannot control, any Demons?” I had her there.

“Your monsters are Demons,” she simply stated.

Oh fuck.

“I don’t want to deal with this right now,” I told her, overwhelmed. “You can’t tell anyone about this, Venus.”

“I won’t,” she promised. “Eventually you will have to tell the Prince.”

“He’s already figured most of it out,” I said morosely and filled her in on the glitter-filled disappearing act in the graveyard. “The only part that would be missing for him would be the Demons.”

I realized I’d forgotten to ask the most important question of all. “How in the hell am I supposed to save everybody?”

“The Prophecy doesn’t say, but I do know it involves our King somehow,” Venus replied.

Well, that just pissed me off and made me want to cry. “Heathcliff told me the King will be in the North American Dominion within the month. Does that mean I have to save everybody this month, as opposed to next month?” I tried for a lame joke. Venus didn’t bite. I didn’t blame her. It sucked.

Ignoring my rapidly deteriorating sense of humor, she went on, “I hate to broach another touchy subject,” Venus was treading carefully, “but would you like to discuss The Warrior Prince?” She tried to suppress a grin. She failed.

I was gonna kick her ass.

“No,” I shouted. “I do not want to discuss him. Ever.”

“You’re halfway mated to the most powerful ruler of all the King’s children. Not to mention the fact that he seems to have gone cuckoo crazy over you. In all my two hundred years as a Vampyre, I’ve never seen him like this. No one has. You will have to deal with this sooner rather than later,” Venus informed me.

“He’s a liar and a cheater and he tried to kill me. I. Hate. Him. I find him unattractive and rude. He’s an asshole and a bastard . . . ” I trailed off.

Venus just stared at me.

“All right, fine.” I gave up. “Yes, I’m attracted to him, but he didn’t ask me to mate with him—he just did it. I hate that. I don’t even know him. I can’t get mated or married or whatever to a stranger, no matter how hot he is or how good he smells.”

“Vampyres often recognize their life mates the first moment they see them or scent them,” Venus said with authority. “They are fated for each other. They have an uncontrollable mental and sexual bond. I’m fairly sure Ethan recognized you.”

“No, he didn’t,” I shot back at her. “The first time he saw me, he and his sisters tried to kill me.”

“But he didn’t,” Venus fired right back, “and he stopped his sisters from killing you.”

“Yeah . . . so?”

“Nothing.” Venus was smug. “I’m just sayin’ . . . that’s all.”

“You are aware that you suck, and all of you people are perverts?” I informed her, wanting to slap that superior look off her face.

“Yes . . . yes I am,” she smiled. “By the way, you’re one of those people now.”

I rolled my eyes. “Anyway, I can’t be his mate because I think I have a connection to Heathcliff too. At least he’s a gentleman.”

“Ooo,” Venus scrunched her nose. “That could be awkward.”

“No duh.”

“He has a sister . . . ” Venus started. I cut her off.

“Yes, that would be Cathy. The Cathy that has been schtupping Ethan for a hundred years,” I said. “Yep, I put that all together when I noticed a female Heathcliff trying to kill me with her eyeballs.” I paused and sighed. “I suppose Heathcliff is out of the picture for me. I never get the nice guy.”

Venus rolled her eyes at me. “The other one ain’t so bad.”

“Why do I have to be with anyone at all?” I whined. “Can’t I just save the world and then go on about my business?”

“No,” Venus the Party Pooper said. “You are now part of the Elite Guard. Your life is not your own anymore.”

“What?” I shouted. Venus cut me off.

“No,” she firmly announced, “you cannot get out of it. As a member of the Cressida House, we are here to protect the Royal Family. Period.”

“I can’t,” I stammered, “I teach art to old people and I . . . you know have, um, stuff . . . ”

Venus laughed and punched me in the arm. Damn, she punches hard. I punched her back harder and remembered I was naked.

“Do you have any idea why I’m naked?” I asked her.

“Nope.”

“Do you know how I got here?”

“Yep.”

“Did he bring me here?” I shut my eyes. If I couldn’t see anything, I could pretend nothing happened.

“Yep.”

“Do you think he . . . ?” I mumbled.

“No way,” Venus said. “I know you think he’s an ass, but he has more honor than any Vampyre I’ve ever met.”

“That doesn’t say much for Vampyres,” I laughed.

“I’m not saying he didn’t look,” she grinned, “but I would my life he didn’t touch.”

“You have way more faith in him than I do,” I told her. “Why don’t you mate with him?”

“Oh, he’s pretty and all, but he’s more like a father to me. Besides, I like the brothers.”

I started laughing. “Oh my God, you’re racist?” I threw a pillow at her.

“No, I’m not,” she giggled, “a girl likes what a girl likes!” She threw the pillow back at me. “I like the same kind of man my mama liked!”

I froze. Petra . . . it was Friday. I had to go to her.

“Venus,” I choked out in a panic, “I have to get out of here.”

“You can’t,” she said, “Ethan will have a fit.”

“I don’t give a damn what he’ll do. It’s Friday . . . my mother . . . ” I couldn’t continue.

“What?” Venus asked.

“My mother, Petra is supposed to die today.” Venus looked at me askance. “I know, I know, I’m not sure if I believe her, but I need to go to her. I need to offer to change her. I need to save her if she’ll let me.”

“You can’t,” Venus sympathized. “You’ll kill her.”

“Pam said the same thing. Why?”

“Once a woman has borne a child,” Venus explained, “she will not make it through the change.”

“Is that one hundred percent for sure?” I asked, looking for a loophole.

“I don’t know, but I wouldn’t try to change her if I were you,” she replied.

“You’re not me.”

“True, although there is an old wives’ tale about sacrificing Royalty, or maybe it was an animal, in order to attain immortality. I can’t remember how it goes, but only Vampyres would know that tale and we don’t need it—we’re already immortal.”

“Oookay, that’s just weird on every level,” I said flatly. “If there’s even a remote chance to save her, I have to try.”

Why did I feel so compelled to save her? Was it simply because she was my mother? No, it was far more complicated than that. I was that pathetic idiot that was still after her love and approval. At least I wasn’t in denial. “Venus . . . ”

“No,” she said.

“Please cover for me,” I begged.

“Are you trying to get me killed?” she gasped. “There’s no way to sneak you out of here. There are guards everywhere, especially on this floor.” Venus shook her head vehemently. “Even if we did get you out of the house, there are security guards all over the property.”

“I don’t need to leave this room to leave the compound,” I told her calmly. She was a nervous wreck. “I just can’t have you ringing the alarm bells when I leave.”

“Astrid, you’re killing me,” she said, dropping her head into her hands.

“Venus, why don’t you go find someone for me to eat,” I told her. “Please take your time. I’m extremely picky about my meals, especially considering I’ve never had mortal blood before.”

“You’ve never . . . ” She was shocked.

“Shut up,” I cut her off. “It is what it is. It will probably take you about an hour to find someone appropriate. Do you understand me?” I asked her, making sure she understood. She nodded unhappily. “Do you think anyone else will be checking on me?” I began to dress quickly.

“No.” Venus paced the room and wouldn’t make eye contact. God, I hoped she would keep my secret. “He’s on an investigation with some of the Guards. There’s been more Rogue activity.”

“All right then, you should go.” I squeezed her hand.

“Please be careful, Astrid,” she said. “He will be destroyed if anything happens to you.”

Her statement surprised and secretly delighted me. I looked at her for a long moment . . . then I disappeared.

 

[kenny0112]

Fashionably Dead (Hot Damned #1)
by Robyn Peterman
Genre: Funny
​

Spoiler: Chapter 16

I felt like a burglar. I didn’t want to be here. I wasn’t wanted or welcome, but here I was. Again. Begging to be slapped down for loving someone who didn’t love me back. I was pathetic, but I wouldn’t live with regrets. No one can say I didn’t try. I may suffer severe wounds to my ego and heart, but being a Vampyre had its advantages. I had thousands of years ahead of me to do therapy.

“Petra? Mother?” I called out.

Nothing.

Surprised and relieved that I wasn’t exhausted from teleporting, I stood and waited. Pam was right, I was getting stronger. I didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. I just knew I was grateful for it right now.

I smoothed down the crisp, cotton, fitted white halter over the black raw silk capris and admired my insane platform wedges. All Prada. Every thread, button, snap and zipper on me was Prada! The material felt like heaven on my skin. Being a Vampyre made my body and senses hypersensitive. I was in love with whoever chose this outfit for me. It had to be Venus, or maybe it was . . . no, there’s no way he would know I would love all this. What in the hell was Venus going on about knowing your life mate? I thought back to the first time I met him. I knew I was attracted to him, but was that it? Did the fact that I couldn’t take my eyes off of his ass mean he was my mate? Could you base an entire relationship on being obsessed with an ass? I didn’t even know him . . . and he didn’t know me.

I couldn’t think about that right now, mostly because my mind went immediately to an X-rated place when I thought about him. A naked, sweaty, scream-filled, bloodsucking, orgasmic place. I needed to dial down my inner slut.

“Astrid, what are you doing here?” my mother asked me.

“Shit,” I yelped. My mother was better than a cold shower for getting rid of my loose morality concerns. “You almost scared me to death.”

“Is that really possible, dear?” she asked calmly, staring me down.

She certainly looked spectacular for someone that was going to die from cancer today. So pulled together in her Tory Burch flats and her sweet little Armani shift.

Hair? Perfect.

Nails? Perfect.

Makeup? Perfect.

Beautiful, and as cold as ice.

“How’s the cancer going, Petra?” I asked her, trying to goad her into some sort of emotion. I didn’t care what. Just something.

“Cancer’s a bitch, dear,” she replied. “Terrible way to die.”

“Mom, what’s going on?” I snapped. “Are you really sick?”

“Do you really care?” she murmured. Damn, she was evil.

“Unfortunately, I really do.” I felt the tears welling.

She totally ignored my need for comfort and put more distance between us. God, did she not have one maternal bone in her body? She fussed with pillows and brushed imaginary lint from the couch. Then she heaved a huge put-upon sigh. “Look, Astrid, I thought I made myself very clear the other day. I have no desire to bond with you or make up for any of the wrongs you perceive me to have committed. You didn’t turn out at all like I expected. I have a very hard time believing you’re the one. You’re just so pathetic and weak. To put it mildly, you’re a grave disappointment.” She laughed at her double entendre.

I wanted to crawl out of my skin. My mind was so crowded with hatred and regret and shame, I couldn’t even follow what she meant. Did she think I was the Chosen One too? How would she even know about that? I wanted to run away from her. I wanted to hit her and hurt her like she hurt me. I wanted to destroy her. I wanted her to hold me. Most of all, I wanted to destroy myself for still caring about her, although I was fairly sure if I hung around much longer she’d successfully do that for me.

I swallowed every bit of pride I had left. “I came to offer you immortality . . . if you want it.”

She said nothing.

“I know you know what I am,” I continued talking. I was sure if I stopped the world would end. “If you’d like me to change you, I will.” With little left to say, I stopped and waited for Armageddon.

She glared at me with hatred. What the fu . . . ? Would I ever win with her?

“You can’t change me, you stupid girl. I wouldn’t trust you with my life. You would kill me permanently,” she spat.

The ceiling hissed and moved. We both looked up. Could she see that? Did she know about monsters? Did she have her own?

Her ceiling was covered in monsters. They weren’t small and silly like my monsters. They were big, angry and evil. They undulated in and out of each other, like a macabre orgy. I wondered what a blast of my Glitter Magic would do to them and decided it was best not to find out. They were scarred and bleeding. It was difficult to look at them. Some had pus and sickening liquid leaking from their wounds. It dripped down from the ceiling, coating the furniture and floor. Most had horns protruding from their heads and they all had claws. Some were missing limbs and several seemed to be functioning without heads.

The ones that were not wounded were taking great pleasure embedding and twisting their claws into the wounds of the less fortunate. They had razor sharp teeth with bits of what appeared to be bloody flesh hanging from them. I may be gross for drinking blood, but I was small potatoes in the repulsive department compared to these guys. Movies couldn’t come close to these atrocities. They examined Petra with a patient hatred while they evaluated me with a hungry curiosity.

“Um . . . Petra, can you see that?” I asked her, keeping my body very still as not to startle them.

“Of course I can,” she snapped. “They’re mine.”

“Oookay.” I glanced over at her. “They don’t seem to like you much.”

They hissed viciously at her right on cue. She looked bored. Who was she? Better yet, what was she? She couldn’t be human and be able to see all this. Could she?

One of them yelled at her in a language I couldn’t even begin to identify. Petra stiffened and watched the bloody monster with narrowed eyes. Her glare didn’t affect him at all. She hissed at him and he continued to scream at her.

As he screamed he slowly took on human features. His tirade was turning him human. Kind of. A gross, bloody human with razor sharp teeth and huge claws. His horns came along for the ride too. He was massive and disgusting. Next thing I knew, the thing was standing next to my mother.

He stood about six feet, six inches tall, and his burnt, bloody body bulged with muscles. He watched me closely.

“Astrid,” my mother smiled evilly, her eyes narrowed to slits as she clapped her hands like a happy child, “Meet your father.”

Holy shit, was she serious? “My father is a monster?” I gasped.

“A Demon, you imbecile,” she snarled, “not a monster. There’s no such thing as monsters.”

That was debatable, I thought as I looked at the woman who gave birth to me. My father stood next to her, wheezed some kind of internal goop and stared at me. Beneath all the blood and oozing sores he was kind of . . . well, maybe a little . . . sort of . . .

Nope. Who in the hell was I kidding? He was horrible. Hideously butt-ass ugly and he smelled like hell. Literally. He smelled of sulfur, burnt hair and charred flesh.

He bared his teeth. Dear God, was he trying to smile at me . . . or was he getting ready to eat me? I knew Vamps were immortal and all, but I was almost sure even I, the Chosen One, couldn’t survive being eaten by a Demon. I really didn’t want to die today. I had too many things left I wanted to do. Number one on the list was to wrap my legs around Ethan and screw him until neither of us could walk. What the fu . . . ? Where did that come from? Why was he in my head right now? He needs to get out. I quickly shoved him to the back of my mind and watched my bloody daddy closely. Any sudden moves and I was so out of here.

Petra leaned into him and stroked his oozing face with her perfectly manicured hands. Something wasn’t quite right about that. As long as I’d known her, she hated anything dirty or messy. Just goes to show you how love can change a cold, heartless bitch. She actually cared for someone. God, that tore me apart in unexplainable ways.

He slapped her hand away and grunted violently at her.

“Can he speak English?” I asked her.

She laughed at me, “He speaks everything, you little pathetic piece of . . . ” Before she could finish her loving description of me, he slapped her so hard he knocked her out and her body flew across the room. She looked like a broken doll lying on the floor beneath the window. I moved to go to her, but my, um . . . father put up his hand.

“No,” he ordered. His voice was ragged. It sounded painful, like he was speaking through shards of glass. “She’s done enough damage this time around.” He watched me back up towards the door. “Stop,” he commanded. “I want to touch you. Come to me.”

Bizarrely enough, I didn’t think he was going to eat me or hit me. I could tell he really did just want to touch me. I looked into his eyes, which were gold like mine. They were the only human-looking thing about him. I walked to him. If I concentrated on his eyes, I could almost pretend he wasn’t the most frightening and disgusting thing I’d ever seen.

I stood in front of him. Inside I was a trembling mess. Outwardly I was calm.

“Are you afraid of me?” he ground out, his razor sharp teeth clicking grotesquely as he spoke.

“Yes, I am,” I told him truthfully. “Are you really my father?” I had to know.

He examined me closely. His breath was putrid and it was all I could do to stand my ground. He slowly raised his hand. I could tell he was trying not to scare me. It was a little late for that. He reached out with his bloody hand, touched my face and replied, “Yes.”

He backed away from me and went to my mother, picked up her crumpled body and gently laid her on the couch.

“What is she?” I asked him.

He paused and considered my question. “She’s a bitch. A horrible, horrible bitch.” He looked down at her and laughed. “But she’s my bitch.”

With that, he clapped his hands and the Demons slithered off the ceiling and moved toward Petra. He yelled something in an unfamiliar language. I didn’t need to understand the language to know what he said. Licking their bloody lips, they surrounded her and they ate her.

The screams of joy were something I would never forget. Thankfully their grotesque bloody bodies covered the gruesome brutality of what they were doing.

I gagged and fell to the ground. I closed my eyes and put my hands over my ears. I wasn’t about to wait around to see if I was next. Without saying bye to Daddy, I transported the hell out of there and went home.

 

[kenny0112]

Fashionably Dead (Hot Damned #1)
by Robyn Peterman
Genre: Funny
​

Spoiler: Chapter 17

I didn’t stop, I didn’t pass Go . . . I teleported, and then I ran.

I ran straight into Pam’s waiting arms and I broke. A dam burst inside of me and rushed from my damaged spirit with a vengeance. I pulled away from Pam’s embrace. I had to move. I couldn’t stay still. My head was a mess and my insides felt raw. I paced frantically. My fists opened and closed at an alarming speed. I wanted to jump or run—instead I fell to the floor and beat on it.

And I cried. I cried for myself. I cried for my mother, who I hated and loved with such a confused passion it was painful. I cried because her death was so horrific and because part of me didn’t care. I cried for my Nana, who I missed more and more each passing day. I thought time and distance dulled pain. They didn’t.

I cried for Venus because she used to be a slave, and for Paris Hilton because she was such a freak. It pained me to think about other people being as judgmental as I had been. I cried for Cathy, because she loved someone who didn’t love her. I knew about that. I cried about Heathcliff. After everything that had happened, I didn’t know if I would ever get a chance to know him and he seemed like such a kind and beautiful person.

I cried for my monsters and worried they would become like my mother’s Demons. It killed me that I would never have children because I wanted someone to love so badly. I wanted to be a real mother to someone. I would have been so good at that. I cried because the father I’d imagined in my dreams was so much better than the monstrosity that had sired me.

I cried because Rogue Vampyres were killing innocent people and because I used to be innocent. Maybe that was my path, I thought wildly. Kill the Rogues. I didn’t even care if I died in the process.

I cried for Pam because I loved her so much. I knew there was much more to her story than she let on.

And I cried because I was worried I would outlive Gemma, and I didn’t want to. I cried because The Kev was so sweet and his love for Gemma was so beautiful.

My blood-laced tears ruined my pretty white halter. My track record with Prada was not so good lately. First the dress, now the halter. That made me cry too.

My tear ducts had almost run dry, but there were still enough bloody tears to cry in confusion. I wanted Ethan. Now. I wanted him to hold me and comfort me. I wanted to lay my head on his chest and wrap my arms around his body. I wanted him to whisper to me and I wanted to fall asleep in his arms while he played with my hair. I could not begin to understand why I wanted or needed a man I barely knew, but I did. With every fiber of my being, I did. Maybe he was mine . . . and I was his. Was Venus right?

Oh. My. God. In my jumbled mess of a brain, a horrible reality occurred to me. She wasn’t right . . . she wasn’t even close to right. That bastard didn’t want me. Ethan didn’t want me for me. That son of a bitch wanted the Chosen One. He’d waited five hundred twenty-two years - not for me, but for the Chosen One.

Please God, just kill me now. How much more did I have to take? Petra was right about one thing . . . men were bad. I knew my heart was breaking. The unconditional love I wanted would never be mine. Not from my mother, not from a child and not from Ethan. Why did Ethan’s betrayal hurt more than the others? Nothing made sense anymore. I fell back to the floor and the flood gates reopened for business.

***​

“Astrid, are you okay?” Gemma rubbed my back and pulled my head to her lap.

“How long have I been here?” I asked, dazed.

“Um . . . about six hours,” she said, smoothing my hair away from my face and kissing my forehead. “You sobbed and moaned for about five hours, and you’ve been sitting here comatose for the last forty-five minutes or so.” She paused. “Pam told me what happened.”

“How does she know?” I asked, sitting up.

“She had a vision,” Gem replied quietly.

Well, now I knew why she was waiting for me. “Did she see my daddy?” I asked Gemma, wincing at the memory of him.

“Yes, Asscrack, I did. Damn, he’s one ugly motherfuckin’ Demon,” Pam said, resettling herself on the couch.

“Oh my God,” I shouted. “Does that mean I’m half Demon?”

“Technically yes, Asswad,” she said, “but the fact that The Kev and I raised you since you turned should negate your Demonic traits.”

“Demonic traits would be . . . ?” I asked, against my better judgment.

“Oh, you know . . . ” Was she grinning at me? “You know,” she continued, “eating people, killing without discretion, blowing things up, mass murder, wreaking havoc. Stuff like that.”

“Shit,” I screamed. I scanned the room for something silver to shove through my chest.

“Don’t fret, Assbutt,” Pam laughed. “I’m certain there ain’t no evil Demon left in you. You drank too much Angel and Fairy blood to be anything but good, good, good. Besides, not all Demons are bad. I do believe this means you have to kiss my big, fat, sexy ass for the rest of your long life.”

“Kill me now,” I begged. She was right though . . . I would kiss her butt ‘til the end of time. She and The Kev had saved me from being something that had no right to exist in a civilized world . . . or any world, for that matter.

“I gotta say,” Pam announced, “your daddy has got to be the most butt-assed, fucked up ugly I have ever seen. How your momma did the wild thing with him is beyond my imagination. And I’ve got one hell of an imagination,” she bellowed.

Holy God, that visual had never occurred to me. I started to laugh, and I couldn’t stop. I was now the proud owner of an image that even one hundred million years of therapy would never erase.

“Pam, you suck!” I yelled at her, moving in to tackle her on the sofa.

She defended herself by smothering me in a bear hug. God, she smelled yummy. I sank my fangs into her neck. She hummed and rocked me like a baby while I ate. Petra’s ugly death seemed so far away from my home full of love.

Whenever I drank from Pam, my brain swirled in colorful circles. My body tingled all over and I felt calm and happy. Sometimes little sparkling fireworks went off if I kept my eyes closed. The Kev said I was a bad eater, because I let all my defenses down when I drank. I wouldn’t have known if the world ended when I ate. Clearly that’s why I didn’t realize a certain someone was standing two feet from me.

“Um, Astrid . . . ” Gemma was flustered.

I ignored her. I was too blissed out drinking from Pam. I wouldn’t interrupt her during ***. Okay . . . yuck. Did I just equate drinking from Pam to ***? I needed to get laid. Soon.

“Astrid,” she tried again. I ignored her again. I was still totally grossed out by my *** analogy. I wondered if I could Green-Eye a human into having *** and then Green-Eye them into forgetting about it. Shit, that was so complicated.

“Angel, you really don’t have to do that,” an all too familiar voice volunteered suggestively. “I’d be more than happy to accommodate you.”

I could hear the grin in that son of a bitch’s voice. Damn it, he was a mind reader. I slammed the garage doors in my head shut and I heard him chuckle. I slowly pulled my fangs out of Pam’s neck and made eye contact with her.

“Do we have company?” I asked her.

“Yes, Asswad, we do,” she said gleefully, “and he is one fine-looking piece of ass.”

I rolled my eyes. “Can he see or hear you?”

“I’m letting him see a shimmer of me. I look like a sparkly mirage. And no, Shithat, he can’t hear me,” she said as she stood up and dumped me to the floor.

Crap, that was not graceful. Did she just call me Shithat? This was not how I had envisioned my next rendezvous with Ethan. I quickly stood and turned to face him. I almost fell back on the couch. He was so stinkin’ beautiful. If I’d been human, my heart would have stopped.

He wore Prada from head to toe. Black pants and a black fitted shirt. Were all Vamps Prada whores? The color made his skin look like polished alabaster. His hair was a sexy messy and his eyes sparkled beneath his ridiculously long lashes.

I wanted to go to him. I wanted to trace his lips with my fingers. I wanted to run my hands all over his chest and those muscular arms. What I really wanted to do was grab his butt. His perfectly beautiful, assorific derriere. I held myself back. It was not easy.

Why was I holding back?

He was clearly open to the idea of being thrown to the floor and ravaged. He tilted his head to the side and let his eyes travel down to my chest.

“Do you like the outfit I picked for you?” He smiled and ran his tongue along his bottom lip.

“I have no idea what you mean,” I huffed. No way did he pick this out. I vaguely recalled promising to be in love with whoever chose this. Following the direction of his eyes, I looked down and realized I was a crazy, bloody hot mess. Shit, shit, shit.

I scrounged up as much dignity as I could muster and politely informed him, “If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I need to change.”

“Do you need any help?” he asked, equally as polite.

“No, thank you,” I primly answered, walking past him and trying not to notice how delicious he smelled.

“Hi, I’m Gemma,” I heard as I slunk down to my room. “And you are . . .

“Ethan,” he informed her. “The Warrior Prince of the North American Dominion and Astrid’s mate.”

A scream flew out of me before I could slap my hand over my mouth. I heard him laugh as I ran the rest of the way to my bedroom. I ripped through my closet looking for something to wear that would make him so sorry that he couldn’t have me.

Ever. I was not his mate, and he couldn’t make me.

Nothing. I could find nothing to wear.

“Screw this,” I said to no one in particular and grabbed my favorite pair of old holey Levis and a black camisole top. I put on blue sequined Converse and flopped back on my bed. Maybe if I didn’t go back out, he would leave. Who was I kidding? That douchebag wanted to own me.

My monsters were very busy chastising me. They clearly did not approve of my outfit choice. Beyonce and Rachel were miming puking, while Ross and Honest Abe cried hysterically and pointed to my closet.

“I don’t care,” I told them. “All of you are lucky I didn’t put on sweat pants and a big paint splattered T-shirt.”

They screamed in horror.

“Oh for God’s sake.” I leaned off my bed to find something on the floor to throw at them. “You guys are so not the boss of me and I can . . . ”

“Who are you talking to, Angel?”

“Shit,” I yelled, slamming my head on my bedside table. “Has anybody ever heard of knocking?”

He stood in the doorway, casually leaning against the frame and evaluated me. He looked so big in my small room. His exam started at my sequined Converse, which made him smile, to my jeans, which made him raise an eyebrow, to my camisole, where he stopped. I suppose he decided to take a break and stare at my girls. I felt my nipples harden under his gaze and quickly crossed my arms over my chest. He grinned.

“Why are you here?” I asked him. I sat up and pulled some of my comforter around me.

“For you,” he said.

“I don’t need you,” I snapped. God, what in the hell did my hair look like? I’d transported twice, watched my mother get eaten, and cried for five or so hours. I couldn’t be looking my best. Wait. Why did I care? I didn’t. I was glad I looked like a piece of crap. He could take that and shove it up his . . .

“You look beautiful,” he said, “and although you may not need me, I need you.”

Damn those mind readers. I must not have shut my brain doors properly.

“You need to go home,” I told him. Flattery was going to get him nowhere.

“I came here because I felt your pain, Angel,” he said, moving into my room. “It almost incapacitated me.”

“You can’t feel my pain.”

He watched and said nothing. I felt trapped in his gaze. This was so not fair. I could feel my desire for him taking over all the rational arguments of why I should boot his ass out.

“I feel everything you feel,” he said, walking to my bed.

“That’s impossible.” I moved to the far side of my bed, putting as much distance between us as I could.

“Nothing is impossible,” he said gently. “You and I are Vampyres. You have an Angel living with you. I sense a Fairy here somewhere, and I can’t quite put my finger on it, but your friend Gemma is not a human. Most importantly, you are the Chosen One.”

“I’m not ready for all this.”

“Ready does not factor into the equation, Angel. Life happens whether we are ready or not—the only choice or control we have is whether or not we will rise to meet its challenges.”

“How’d you get so smart?”

He laughed and sat down on the edge of my bed. “Because I’m five hundred twenty-two years old.” He leaned over and took my hand in his. He started rubbing delicious little circles on my palm. This did not bode well for rational decision making on my part.

“Angel, when I drank from you I took part of you into me. You are inside me. When you feel joy, I feel joy. When you feel sorrow, I feel sorrow. When you feel like your world is being ripped apart . . . ” He paused, letting the sentence finish itself. He watched me closely. “That’s why I came. I came to take care of you. Please let me take care of you.”

“You don’t want me.” Oh. My. God. Was I about to cry?

He sat up. “You have no concept of how much I want you.” His tone and the look in his eyes sent shivers through my body.

“It’s not me that you want,” I insisted.

“What are you talking about?” He was bewildered.

“You don’t want me, you want the Chosen One,” I said.

“You’re one and the same,” he laughed, clearly confused by my logic.

Why couldn’t I accept that it didn’t matter why he wanted me? The fact that he wanted me should be enough, but it wasn’t.

“If I weren’t the Chosen One, you wouldn’t want me.”

Now I was crying. Great.

“Oh baby,” he said, gently gathering me to him, “I’d want you even if you were the devil incarnate.”

“Really?” I blubbered.

“Really. I knew from the moment I saw you,” he said, tucking my hair behind my ear and running his thumb along my cheekbone. “You’re so beautiful, so strong,” he whispered, cupping my cheek.

God, this felt so right. I was so small and soft against his hard body. I leaned into his hand and very slowly, very tentatively wrapped my arms around his body. I felt him contract under my hands and heard a soft moan escape his lips. He guided my head to his chest and gently laid us back on the bed. I closed my eyes and breathed him in. I could feel him doing the same.

“What do I smell like to you?” I asked quietly.

“You smell like heaven, like wind and rain. You smell like promise and desire and hope and a little touch of brown sugar.” His voice was husky and I could feel my body tightening. God, he was good. If I weren’t so exhausted from transporting and crying for five hours, I’d be tempted to slip my clothes off, straddle him and make him beg for mercy.

He chuckled, “There will be plenty of time for that,” he said.

Damn it, I think my brain doors have a defect.

“You are mine,” he whispered, running his hand through my hair. “You were meant to be mine. You will always be mine.”

“Aren’t people going to worry about you?” I mumbled, snuggling closer. I could barely keep my eyes open. “Should you go home?”

“I am home, Angel. You are my home,” he said.

I smiled into his chest and fell asleep.

 

[kenny0112]

Fashionably Dead (Hot Damned #1)
by Robyn Peterman
Genre: Funny
​

Spoiler: Chapter 18

She was going to die if I didn’t help her. The voice inside the tomb was not weak or sickly. It was strong and melodic and very insistent.

“Astrid, you have to help me,” she begged.

“How do you know my name?” I asked, thrown by the familiarity.

“Because you are part of me,” she replied. “Push the stone, Astrid. Help me, please. You’re the only one.”

“Why does it have to be me? I’m not strong enough,” I insisted. I started to cry. I should get help. Big men . . . or the police . . . or a crowbar.

“You are strong enough,” she said simply. “There’s not much time left.” In that moment I knew she was right. I was strong enough. She was going to die if I didn’t get her out. Now.

I walked slowly toward the tomb, my hands outstretched. I could feel the tingling in my fingertips. It quickly spread down my arms, through my chest and into my legs. My heart was pounding inside me, my stomach felt twisted and it was hard to breathe. The wind picked up and blew my hair wildly around my head. I was inches away.

“Push, Astrid,” she gasped.

I placed both of my hands on the tomb and began to push. The tomb started to crumble under my fingers. The stone turned to cold, hard diamonds . . . beautiful, sparkling sharp ice that sliced into my hands. My hands bled, but I did not stop. I was so close. The blood ran from my hands, down my arms and seeped into the soft white cotton of my shirt. The stunning diamonds were awash in my blood. I knew if I pushed just a little more . . . I could . . . The pain was becoming intolerable. Every nerve ending in my body was on high alert.

That damn dream was getting weirder and weirder, and when in the hell did my bed get so lumpy and hard? Prying my eyes open was an impossibility. I’d cried so much they were fused shut. I rearranged myself and realized my sheets had grown muscles and hair. Really soft, sexy hair and muscles that made my fingertips tingle. It was definitely not the tomb lady.

Feigning sleep, I crawled on top of the hot Vampyre in my bed and noticed two things . . . we were very topless and he was very happy to see me. Hmmm . . . should I stay or should I go? I should go. Definitely go. Right? No, I should absolutely go . . .

I opened my eyes and tried to slide off his body, but his arms were like steel bands keeping me pinned where I was. My very aroused body was having an internal bitch fight with my good girl brain. My body was winning . . .

Wait a freakin’ minute. What in the hell was I doing? Just because he was hot didn’t negate the simple fact he tried to kill me and then he half-Vampyre married me, without my permission, in front of six hundred Vampyres. Not to mention I’d had a screaming Big O in front of said Vampyres, ensuring I would not be able to maintain eye contact for years . . . possibly centuries.

He was an egotistical, hot, obnoxious, sexy, bossy ass. I should hump a tree before I did the nasty with him.

But he’s so damn hot . . .

My mind flew back to the graveyard and the visions of what he wanted to do to me. I didn’t think half of it was even legal. A slow heat started between my legs and began to move quickly through the rest of my body. The right corner of his mouth lifted and I knew I was gone. All of the excellent reasons I had come up with vanished. I was staring at the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. I was face-to-face, not to mention body-to-body, with every fantasy I’d ever had.

“Hello, pretty girl,” he murmured as he pressed his lips to mine.

My arms, clearly controlled by my raging hormones, found their way around his neck as my lips parted underneath his extremely insistent ones. He moaned his approval as his tongue began a very deliberate exploration of my mouth.

“Wait a minute,” I demanded, untangling my mouth from his. “How did I lose my shirt?”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“So getting me partially naked helped you sleep?” I narrowed my eyes and tried not to focus on his perfectly ripped chest.

“No,” he grinned. “But it made staying awake a lot more fun.”

“You do realize you’re a pervert.”

“Agreed,” he said, cupping the back of my head and drawing my lips back to his.

He was making me dizzy and I tried to pull away, but apparently that wasn’t part of his agenda. He held me firmly against his rock hard body. I couldn’t move if I tried. Squirming would only make the mouthwateringly large problem pressing against my tummy bigger. Anyone else would have received my knee to his man bits, but with him . . . all I wanted to do was press my body even closer.

He slowly made his way from my mouth to my neck. Ohhh my God. “Ethan,” I gasped.

“Yes, Angel?” he answered, lightly scraping his fangs along my neck.

I cried out and he flipped me over, pinning me to the bed with my arms over my head. Damn, that was hot. All of his hard was pressed against all of my soft. My body jerked underneath his and his eyes went an even more brilliant green. I hadn’t been this turned on . . . well ever. If I could just . . . wait. Small house. Too many people here. Makes me scream. Pam will give me hell . . .

When his mouth moved slowly and deliberately down my body, my brain completely fritzed out, to my body’s delight. My mind was a jumbled mess and my body had hatched its own plan. I arched wantonly toward him. His controlled dominance made my thinking erratic and the slickness between my legs was more than obvious to both of us.

“Look at me,” he said, taking my chin in his large hand and forcing me to stare into his beautiful eyes. “Do you know what you do to me?” he demanded, lowering his lips to mine and kissing me senseless.

I writhed beneath him. His eyes were blazing green and I knew mine matched. He tore his mouth from mine and ran his open lips form my jaw to my breast. My back arched up and his chuckle of delight sent shockwaves right to my core. I had never wanted anyone so badly in my life.

“You are beautiful,” he murmured before taking my painfully hard nipple into his mouth. He drew hard and I whimpered, arched higher, and wordlessly begged for more.

I rubbed myself against his hard, sexy body. I wanted him. I wanted to be controlled by him.

I wanted the decision of becoming his mate and having *** with him taken out of my hands.

I wanted him to force me . . . I wanted to be blameless in a decision I knew I wanted to make. It went against everything I was taught and everything I thought I knew about myself . . . everything I believed.

He nipped and sucked until I saw stars. He pressed the lower half of his body into mine, creating a rhythm that made me see Jesus. I felt my fangs descend and I pulled Ethan up by his hair until we were face to face. I slanted my mouth across his and drew his tongue into my mouth. He dug his fingers painfully into my hips and increased the speed of his undulating body. I cried out. It was perfect . . . that mind-numbing sensual place that mixed pleasure and pain.

He groaned into my mouth, cupped the back of my head with one hand and my ass with the other and flipped us over. I wanted to get closer. I wanted to be completely naked and I wanted him inside me, but I wanted more. For the first time, I was conscious of thinking like a Vampyre, not a human. It was scary and liberating.

I slid my lips along his jaw and down his neck. I could feel the blood rushing through his veins. With the tip of my tongue I traced the arteries in his neck, loving the taste of him. My fangs burned and I knew what I had to do. What I wanted to do. What I needed to do. His body tensed beneath mine. Through his jeans, I felt his erection grow bigger.

I scraped his neck with my fangs and his body jerked.

“Angel,” he moaned.

I laughed and lightly punctured his neck with my fangs, without drawing blood. I loved the sound his skin made when I bit into him. It popped. It was different from Pam or The Kev or Gemma. It was right. I knew it with every fiber of my being. As my body writhed on top of his, I reached down and ran my hand up and down the length of him. He was beautiful and mine. I moved in to take what I wanted.

He moaned and drew my head back to his neck. All I could focus on was his skin . . . the breathtakingly beautiful, smooth pale skin on his neck. The place I would bite him and drink from him and make him mine. Mine. Mine for eternity. It was so clear to me. I had never wanted anything so much. I would mark him and finish what he started . . .

Wait.

I gasped and jerked back. What in the hell was I doing? Just because my lady bits were on fire didn’t mean I should make a decision that would last a lifetime . . . a really long lifetime. Would I be doing this if I wasn’t half naked? Or if he wasn’t so freakin’ hot? Was I about to let my need for an earth-shattering orgasm dictate the rest of my undead life? Um . . . yes. Yes, I was.

“I can’t,” I said. I rolled off of Ethan and buried my head in my hands.

“You’re right.”

“No, Ethan, I really can’t . . . wait. What?”

“You’re correct. As much as it pains me . . . and it does,” he said, referring to the unavoidably large bulge in his pants, “this is not how it should happen.”

“So, I guess you don’t want me,” I teased.

“Oh, I want you,” he moaned and chuckled. His green eyes glittered dangerously. My insides jumped, not with fear but with lust, and I wondered if I had been an idiot not to claim him. “Letting you pull away from me was the most difficult thing I’ve done in all my years.”

“First of all, you didn’t let me do anything. I did it myself,” I informed him. “I just didn’t think you were that into it.”

He pulled me into his body and pressed me against some hard evidence to the contrary.

“I’m into it, Angel,” he grinned, “but more importantly, I know that you’re into it.”

“Am not,” I laughed, trying to get out of his embrace.

“Are too,” he said, grabbing me and trapping me underneath him. “Just because you can’t bite me yet,” he informed me with an evil twinkle in his eyes, “doesn’t mean I can’t bite you.” He leaned into my neck.

“Not fair,” I screeched, trying to wrestle him off of me.

“So not fair,” he agreed, “but so going to happen.” He grinned as his fangs elongated.

I gasped in total delight, struggling only to entice him further.

“What in the fuck is going on in there?” Pam bellowed from the hallway.

“Could you hear that?” I asked him.

“Yes.” He had the strangest expression. “Who was that?”

“My Angel, Pam,” I said. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” he paused, “I just had a . . . I think . . . ”

A flash of pained confusion passed his face, and then it was gone.

“It’s nothing,” he smiled and shook his head. “Probably the blue balls I feel coming on, damaging my brain.”

I laughed and kissed him. “So, what are we doing?” I asked.

He considered me and my question for a moment. A slow, sexy smile spread across his beautiful face. “We’re going to get to know each other and I shall court you.”

I grinned. “Court me?”

“Yes, Angel . . . court,” he proudly informed me.

“Um, Ethan,” I said and rolled my eyes, “you’re kind of showing your age.”

“Yes,” he grinned. “I am.”

“Are we courting exclusively?” I asked with narrowed eyes.

“I don’t know.” He watched me carefully. “Are we?”

“If this is going to be fair, it shouldn’t be exclusive,” I told him.

“Are you seeing someone else?” His eyes flashed green and I saw a streak of possessiveness that scared the hell out of me and turned me on with a vengeance.

“Nooo,” I said, messing with him, “but I might. I’m new to this whole Vamp thing. I don’t even know what’s out there yet.”

He did not like that. I watched the muscle in his jaw clench. He controlled his jealousy, but with effort. God, he was so easy to bait. I could twist him in knots.

“Well, Astrid, I suppose if you don’t mind watching me with other women . . . we can do it your way.” He crossed his arms over his naked chest and waited for my hissy fit.

“I don’t mind at all,” I lied through my teeth. If he thought I was going to throw a fit in front of him, he had another thing coming. I would simply wait until he left. I grabbed my shirt with shaking hands and yanked it on. What in the hell was going on? Why was I so furious at the thought of him with someone else? Not just furious . . . murderous. “It’s probably a good idea. I really don’t think we’re suited anyway. So you should just go get laid by a bunch of Vampyre floozies and I’ll . . . ”

Faster than I could blink, he was on me. I was flat on my back, trapped under the man I wanted to be trapped under.

“Astrid, the only Vamp I want to get laid by is you. And I’m quite sure the only Vamp you want to get laid by is me.”

“Someone’s a little full of himself,” I snapped.

He gave me a lopsided grin and my insides melted. Just the sight of him was a punch to my gut and my heart. Crap.

“This will be fun, Astrid. I look forward to winning you. And make no mistake . . . I will.”

He leaned in and kissed my very willing, traitorous lips and left. I tried to find my voice, but it was gone. I wanted him to win . . . I think. But he was going to have to work very hard.