Fashionably Dead

by Robyn Peterman

  “Is Big Sean’s Booby Bungalow the only place to find Bad Demons?” I asked.

  “No,” Ross was still dancing. “Jails and car dealerships are good too, Mommy.” Ross walked up my arm and onto my chest. “Mommy, Bad Demons are everywhere. They keep coming through the Squish Hole and we eat them.”

  “Too many come,” Rachel added, as she tried to braid Ross’ Velcro. “Lately hard to eat soooo many Bad Demons.”

  “How many can you eat?” Why did I continue to ask questions I didn’t want to know the answers to?

  “Yesterday me eat twenty-seven,” Beyonce informed me proudly, slapping her belly.

  Wow, I had nothing to say to that. Nothing. I was tempted to ask what a Squish Hole was, but I was pretty sure I had that one figured out. It had to be a Portal between Earth and Hell. If it was something else . . . I didn’t want to know.

  I stood up and started tossing them back up to my ceiling. “I’m going to take a really long hot shower and try to wash this conversation off of me.” They thought that was hilarious. “Look at me,” I told them sternly. They did. “I love you and I will be devastated if anything happens to you. I want you to be careful when you dine. You got it?”

  “Got it, Mommy,” my babies screeched. “We love you too!” They pummeled each other for a few minutes and then disappeared. I shook my head and made my way to the shower.

  Chapter 35

  Oh my God, it felt so good to be clean using my own fabulous bath products. Not to be a snob, but as much money as those Vamps had, they had some sub-par bath paraphernalia. Although Venus had some good stuff, Ethan definitely did not. I’d just bring mine back with me.

  Who in the hell had called Brad Pitt? Maybe it was Gemma. Where were they anyway? Gemma, The Kev and Pam were nowhere to be found. I’d be sick if they were gone for good. On top of missing them desperately, how was I supposed to eat? I’d still not drunk from a mortal—it just didn’t appeal to me. I knew I could drink from Ethan. Thinking about that made my knees go weak and my imagination go wild. Thank goodness I wasn’t hungry. I was feeling a bit nauseous. I supposed it was a hangover from my coma.

  I sighed, dropped my towel and went digging through my drawers for some comfy clothes. I needed to get back to the Cressida House before I was missed. That could be a real shit storm. I had every right to leave, but I knew Ethan would be angry. Not because I left, but because I didn’t tell him or take an army of armed guards. I was head over heels, no turning back madly in love with Ethan. I knew I didn’t want to exist without him, but he was not the boss of me. I still needed to be able to run my own life. God knew I could defend myself. I could just scream and blow everything to smithereens.

  Grinning, I grabbed a pair of tight black pants that I knew would drive him insane, but first I slipped on a barely there thong. I paired it with a whisper pink raw silk camisole that did very nice things for my very nice breasts, and then I added a rockin’ pair of Prada wedges. He was going to stop ignoring me in a big way.

  I threw a bag on my bed and started loading it with Converse, vintage T-shirts, my favorite jeans, a couple of Juicy sweat suits, some gold sequined Uggs and several really pretty tops from Anthropologie. I grabbed my flip flops, some colorful summer skirts, and a teddy bear that Nana had given me when I was eight. Soon I was zipped up and ready to go. I knew I shouldn’t transport with a suitcase after what happened with Cathy. I’d drive back. God help me, I was going to get my ass kicked when they realized what I’d done, but I needed to see my babies. I wondered if I could get them to come back to the Cressida House with me.

  “Rachel, Ross, Beyonce, Honest Abe?” I called. “Do you guys want to go on a field trip?” No answer. “Guys? What if I promise to introduce you to my dad sometime?”

  “Who are you talking to?” a British woman asked.

  What the fu . . . ? British woman? I whipped around and was standing three feet from the big blonde Amazon who had turned me into a Vampyre. “Shit,” I screeched. I slammed my body up against the wall, touched my chest and protected myself with my shield.

  She laughed lightly and made her way to my vanity. She sat down and began rummaging through my nail polish. “So, how have you been?” she asked, smiling at me while she pocketed my favorite Chanel Gold Lame polish.

  Was she kidding? That Amazon did not just steal a thirty dollar bottle of nail polish, did she?

  Yes . . . yes, she did.

  “What exactly do you mean?” I was very calm. “How have I been? Hmm, let me see . . . you turned me into a Blood Sucking Creature of the Night and left me for dead. That was awfully friendly of you and now you show up with some fakey British accent that you didn’t have the last time and start stealing my shit.”

  “Oh, you saw that?” She was trying to play it off. Wasn’t working.

  “Who are you and what are you doing here?” I demanded. “Oh, and by the way, you can take my nail polish out of your pocket and put it back.”

  “I can see you’re a bit upset.” She stood up with my nail polish still tucked firmly in her pocket. “I’ll come back another time.” She went to leave.

  “Oh no, you don’t” I snapped. “Sit your Amazon ass back down. You’re going to answer some questions.”

  She paused and examined me. I shivered. Something wasn’t right with her. It was unnerving. “Aren’t you a feisty one? I’d heard you were a dish rag and rather worthless.”

  What the fu . . . ? Dish rag, my ass. I was so done with being insulted by dead people. “I don’t know where you got your info, Blondie . . . ”

  “Julie,” she interrupted.

  I half expected her name to be Olga or Svetlana. “Oookay Julie. Clearly your informant was gravely mistaken and quite possibly a stupid dummy.”

  Crap, that sounded kind of middle school. Please tell me I didn’t just say ‘stupid dummy’.

  “Clearly,” she smirked, “definitely a stupid dummy.”

  “Well, um . . . okay. Who is your informant?”

  “My mother,” she calmly informed me, eyeing my Chanel Vamp and Dragon polish bottles.

  No fucking way. I quickly crossed the room and removed all of my expensive polish, leaving her all the cheap shit to pilfer. “Your mother?” I questioned as I tossed about three hundred dollars’ worth of nail polish into my little suitcase.

  “And yours,” she gave me a creepy smile.

  “My what?” I didn’t like the way this was headed. If this were a bad B movie, she’d tell me I was her sister and then she’d kill me. Wait . . . she had already killed me.

  “Our mother, Astrid,” she giggled. “We’re sisters.”

  Jerry Springer, here I come. “Back the fuck up, Blon . . . I mean, Julie. Explain.”

  She smiled condescendingly and heaved a sigh as if I was mentally challenged. “Our mother, also known as stupid dummy, has lived several lives and had children each time.”

  “You’re kidding.” I felt a little sick.

  “Do I look like I’m kidding?” She raised her very attractive eyebrows and waited.

  “No.” I felt defeated. “How many lives has she had?”

  “A few.”

  “How many brothers and sisters do we have?” I asked.

  “Several.”

  “Are we all Vampyres?” This was nuts.

  “Mostly.”

  “Could you be any more annoyingly vague?” I was about over her.

  “Possibly,” she giggled again.

  I closed my eyes, and tried desperately to ignore the reality of my life. Could it get any stranger? The answer was no. At least I hoped it was.

  “It was you,” I gasped, figuring out the Brad Pitt mystery. “You called Brad Pitt.”

  “Yes, Astrid, that was me.” She rolled her eyes at how long it took me to figure that one out. God, she really was a bitch.

  “Wait,” I started laughing, “do you go around setting up memorials for her every time she dies?”

  “Something like that,” she replied, looking b
ored.

  I stared at her. We looked nothing alike. We had to have different fathers. Of course we did. Didn’t we? “How old are you?” I asked. She was eyeing my perfume.

  “Older than you,” she said, spritzing herself with the expensive bottle.

  “You can’t have that,” I told her, “it’s mine.” Was I twelve?

  “Fine,” she huffed, “if you’re not going to share, I’m leaving.” She stood up and went for the door.

  “I’m not done with you.”

  “Too bad, Astrid.” She was so smug. “I’ll see you at Mother’s memorial tomorrow night. Perhaps you’ll be more agreeable.”

  With that, she walked out of my room and left my house, with my nail polish in her pocket. She was a total bitch, had answered none of my questions, and had stolen my stuff. She was so going to pay for that.

  Chapter 36

  Driving back was stressful. I still felt sick. I heaved a huge sigh and tried to stop the storm of thoughts racing through my mind. I was glad I could tolerate sunlight as I watched the gorgeous Kentucky sunset rip through the sky. The blazing pinks and purples were in striking contrast with the huge orange sun that dipped lower and lower by the minute.

  I had hoped to get back to the Cressida House before everyone woke up for the evening, but my unexpected guest had delayed me. Julie had pissed me off, but she had also scared me. I didn’t want her in my life at all. Please God, let her move on after the memorial. I already had a sister. Cathy was my sort-of sister, and one pain in the ass difficult sibling was all I could handle.

  I pulled up the manicured, tree lined drive of the Cressida House and was ushered straight through the guard gate. The Vamps on duty shook their heads in either disgust or pity when they saw it was me. Whatever it was, it didn’t bode well. As I approached the manor house my stomach dropped. So much for getting back before my absence was noticed. I had a welcoming committee. Let me see, I spied Venus, Samuel, Heathcliff, Luke, David, Raquel, Lelia and a very unhappy Ethan.

  Shit.

  “Hey guys,” I yelled, getting out of my junky car. I should buy a new one, but cars cost a lot of . . . Wait, I just inherited forty million dollars. I could buy a stinkin’ fleet of cars. No one had returned my greeting. I tried again. Louder. “Hey friends, are you all going somewhere?” Volume always worked for Pam. Everyone looked slightly confused. It was working.

  “It’s a great night for a . . . um . . . a run or . . . you know . . . a bonfire. Actually, fires are not our friend . . . being Vampyres and all . . . ”

  “Enough, Astrid,” Ethan said quietly. Way too quietly. I shut up. “Where have you been?”

  “I went home.”

  “This is your home now, Astrid,” he replied tersely.

  “No, Ethan,” I countered, “it’s not. I don’t have a room here or any of my stuff. The mailman, the police, amazon.com and my newspaper delivery guy all think I live at 333 Montavesta Road, so . . . ”

  “Astrid, come with me,” Ethan cut me off, took my arm and my suitcase and led me into the Cressida House. Venus winked as I passed which made me feel a little bit better, but Heathcliff shook his head like an older brother might when his little sister had done something really stupid. Why was it stupid that I wanted to go home? Did becoming a Vampyre mean I had joined some undead cult and couldn’t be trusted on my own?

  We walked silently through the mansion. After we’d crossed through the Grand Foyer and walked up the curved marble staircase, we stood in front of the intricately carved teak doors of the elevator and waited. It was difficult for me to get accustomed to the opulence of this place. I was used to a much simpler life. I stole glances at Ethan through lowered lashes. God, even angry he was the sexiest man I’d ever laid eyes on. I knew we were about to have it out, but all I wanted to do was strip him and tackle him.

  Why couldn’t I read minds? It was so unfair. I wanted to know what he was thinking. Clearly he was not pleased that I’d left, but had he noticed my butt in the tight black pants or how my camisole hugged my breasts just right? Or how just thinking about all this was making me dangerously horny?

  Ethan led me into his suite, shut the door and began to pace the room. His power filled the large room making it small. “This is our suite.” His eyes bored into me. “You are mine and this is where we stay when we are in Kentucky.”

  “You wait one minute,” I shot back, getting louder and louder with each word that flew from my mouth. “I am not some possession you own or can control. You may run everything else, but you will never, ever control me. I am the boss of me. Not you!”

  Was I suicidal? Yes. Yelling at the Prince of the North American Dominion was a big Vampyre no-no, but he was pissing me off big time. Maybe I would talk to him later when he wasn’t being such a primitive jackass.

  He grabbed me and hauled me up against his chest. He pinned my arms behind my back as I shrieked my displeasure. My breasts were planted firmly against him. I felt my nipples tighten and moisture pool between my legs. My inner slut was betraying me once again. Why on earth I was getting so turned on by his he-man behavior was beyond me.

  “Let go of me,” I hissed, trying to escape the steel bands of his arms.

  “Not a chance, my love.” His lips were inches from my ear and his voice sent shivers through me. “You are definitely mine and I am yours,” he whispered. “You may not be my possession, but I plan to possess you. Every inch of you, for the rest of your very long life.”

  His lips brushed my ear and I started to tremble. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” I shuddered as his lips made a hot trail from my earlobe to the corner of my mouth.

  “I think you know exactly what to do,” he replied lazily, nipping at my bottom lip.

  “I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t know what’s expected of me. What you expect of me. What I expect of myself . . . ” I trailed off and tried not to cry. I had a sick feeling in my stomach. Everything I was saying was so true. “I don’t know how to be with you. It’s too complicated,” I whispered and started to cry.

  “Shhhh,” Ethan tangled his free hand into my hair. “It’s not complicated. You have to let me love you, give me a little bit of yourself. Trust me.”

  “But I . . . ”

  He drove his point home, crushing his lips against my mouth, and pressing his body to mine. Trust him? Give myself to him? I couldn’t even think straight. Actually, he might be right. Damn him. I struggled and successfully freed one arm, fully intending to deck him. My arm had a different idea. I pulled him closer and let my lips part under his assault. A growl of pure male pleasure escaped from him as he drove his tongue into my mouth.

  I bit at his lips and tangled my tongue with his. All of my fear and anger and confusion from the last month came rushing out of me. I wanted to devour him the same way he was devouring me. It was aggressive, bordering on violent. We were spiraling out of control. Hard, fast and angry.

  “Just so you know,” Ethan groaned, digging his strong hands into my hips, “I noticed the pants and the top.” He pressed himself against me and I could feel his appreciation for my efforts. His fangs scraped my neck and my knees gave way. All chances for coherent thinking were gone. I couldn’t remember my name, much less why I didn’t want to strip him naked. His scent and his taste and the feel of his body against mine overwhelmed me.

  I clawed at his clothes. “Make them go away,” I demanded

  “With pleasure,” his voice was ragged with desire. My body pined for him. It took everything I had not to throw myself at him while he slowly disrobed.

  “You’re a tease,” I hissed impatiently.

  “Patience is a virtue,” he chuckled and went slower.

  “Not one of mine,” I said, ripping at his clothes.

  His body was glorious. Strong and muscular and deadly. Muscles that would take a lifetime to achieve. I couldn’t believe he was mine. I ran my hands over his deliciously broad shoulders and his perfectly muscular arms. The light sprinkling of blon
de chest hair tickled my fingertips and sent chills through my body. I followed the hair down his body where it tapered to his ripped abdomen and led to my prize, his huge cock that was very happy for the attention and as hard as a rock. I knew how he would feel inside of me and I wanted it. Now. He was my drug of choice.

  His eyes smoldered with desire as he watched me like a predator watches prey. This was my game and he waited to see what I would do next. So I stepped back and marveled at his body. He kept his hands at his sides and waited. His muscles rippled under my fingertips and his body shuddered as I lightly ran my nails over his erection.

  I wrapped my hands around him and sank to my knees. The hard heavy length of him jerked in my hands and his head dropped back to his shoulders. He was perfection, hard as steel, yet as smooth as satin. My eyes blazed green and my fangs descended. They stayed locked on his as I flicked my tongue out and circled the swollen head of his shaft. He groaned and twined his fingers into my hair, pushing my hot, wet mouth further down the hard length of him. I scraped him with my fangs as he forced himself as deep as I would take him.

  I worried for a brief moment that my inexperience might turn him off, but the sounds coming from deep within his body allayed my fears. The feel of him in my mouth was electrifying. His taste, his scent and moans made me dizzy with power. He was intoxicating. Having him completely in my control was as much of a turn on as having him deep inside of me. I gripped his hips and relaxed my throat, taking more of him into me.

  No longer concerned if I was doing it right, I followed my instincts and the movements of his body. Going down on him was hotter than I ever could have imagined. He made the sexiest sounds I’d ever heard and a hot warmth shot to my core. He tangled his hands roughly in my hair spurring me to move faster up and down the length of him.

  “Angel, stop,” he hissed. It made a popping sound as he pulled himself from my mouth. I could still taste him on my tongue and lips as he dragged me up his body, shredding my camisole and sexy black pants in his frenzy.