Fashionably Flawed: Book Nine, The Hot Damned Series

by Robyn Peterman

  “Sorry,” she mumbled. “And I’ll pass. If Gigi grants me a concession, I’ll have to eat her cooking. I’d rather die.”

  “You’re already dead,” I pointed out.

  “Touché.” Astrid’s eyes stayed narrowed, but the corners of her mouth tilted up. “My apologies,” she announced to the room of startled good-looking people. “My diet makes me cranky.”

  “I hear you, sis-tah,” a human blonde gal called out disengaging herself from the sexual debauchery. “I’ve eaten nothing but celery for a month straight so I’d be skinny enough for my photo shoot today.”

  Astrid’s eyes grew wide with horror and she approached the emaciated model. “Listen to me, Blondie,” she insisted. “One of these days you’re gonna try to stop smoking and get hypnotized at a seedy strip mall by a fucking Russian whack job who may or may not be distantly related to you in a totally farked up way. This is going to seem like an excellent idea until you wake up dead and can never eat again. Ever. And to make matters worse, you’ll have to drink blood—totally skeeved me out in the beginning, but you get used to it. So seriously, celery is bullshit—tastes like butt—not that I know what butt tastes like, but it smells like butt so you do the math. Don’t eat that crap. Eat pizza and tacos for the love of everything unholy, holy and all the stuff in between,” Astrid shouted at the terrified woman. “I mean being dead has its advantages, but for real, eat everything while you still can. You feel me?”

  “Umm… sure,” the woman stuttered as she stood up and sprinted out of the waiting room in her birthday suit followed by a few others.

  With a wide smile at my niece’s inadvertent, albeit hard to follow help, I turned back to the nasty piece of work, leaned on the desk and grinned at my nemesis. “Looks to me like Miss Rinoa now has a few opens for today. I’ll take one.”

  “You will do no such thing,” the newest bane of my existence contradicted me with a finger pointed at my face.

  It was a surprisingly appealing finger considering how heinous the rest of her was. Normally I’d incinerate someone as rude as the woman, but she held the key to what I wanted at the moment and she amused me. After I got to the soul seller, the old bag would receive a one-way ticket to Hell. She’d fit right in.

  With clap of her hands three Eunuchs walked through the door and flanked the desk, leering at me menacingly. This new development was fantastic as I was itching for a bloody fight. However, I needed to remove the collateral damage from the room so Astrid wouldn’t crawl up my ass.

  With a wave of my hand the humans disappeared. The old woman looked surprised for a brief second, but schooled her unattractive features quickly.

  “Umm, where are the starving models?” Astrid asked as she sized up our burly opponents.

  “Purgatory.”

  “Seriously?” Tiara questioned my choice as she pulled a mean looking dagger from her designer purse. “You just sent hungry, horny, naked models to Purgatory?”

  I paused a moment, considered my actions and then shrugged.

  “I see your point,” I said. “My persnickety brother hates surprise orgies in Purgatory, but I thought my neck of the woods might be a little off-putting. I was trying to be nice.”

  “You really should stop that,” Astrid advised.

  “Point taken,” I replied, and then turned my attention back to the matter at hand. “I’d like to see Miss Rinoa now.”

  “Or?” the woman asked, eyebrows high.

  “Or the Eunuchs die and you shall follow,” I told her with my most charming smile as the Eunuchs growled with displeasure. “Your choice.”

  “Honestly, if I wanted to die I’d simply climb your ego and jump to your IQ,” she said in a fabulously bored tone and then went back to her work.

  For the first time in a few million years, I was speechless. No one spoke to me like this deranged old hag… and I loved it.

  “I think a beheading would be a little quicker,” I shot back. “Far less painful considering that my ego—along with other parts of me—are enormous.”

  The shocked expressions on my niece’s faces gave me pause. What the Hell was I doing? Was I flirting with the heinous woman? I do believe I was. The end of time must be very near. It had to be.

  “You think you can take my men?” the woman demanded, ignoring my sexual innuendo and leaning back in her chair with the ease of someone who wasn’t just threatened with death or an enormous dick. The challenge of her insolence was invigorating. She was a hateful piece of work.

  The woman’s choice of words were interesting, but she clearly was crazy. The Eunuchs were hers? I didn’t believe that for a second. Crazy people didn’t always make sense and this one was certifiable.

  “I believe I can handle a few immortals without balls,” I replied, rolling my neck and cracking my knuckles with a nasty smirk on my lips.

  “Why do you want to see Elle?” she demanded, standing up.

  She was surprisingly tall for a woman so mousy and there was something strangely off about her. She had seemed small and meek, but it was clear that whatever kind of old witch she was, she had power.

  “Well… since I am the fucking highest paid romance author in the world, I want my picture taken for my book,” I explained slowly as if English was her second language. Hell, if she was as old as I assumed she was, English was probably her twentieth language. “And then the rest of what I want is between me and your boss.”

  Her cackle went through me like shards of ice and the Eunuchs simply chuckled at her glee.

  “My boss doesn’t talk to Angels,” the woman said flatly.

  “You speak for your boss?” I demanded, growing frustrated with the ridiculous banter.

  “I absolutely speak for my boss—my word is her word.”

  “And you think I’m an Angel?” I asked in a voice so deadly quiet, she startled for a second.

  “Don’t think. Know,” she hissed with disdain. “You people have come before and you will come again. Elle will have nothing to do with you.”

  “Do you have a death wish, old woman?” I snapped. She was no longer amusing—at all. “Because I could help you with that.”

  “Be gone,” she snarled. “Celestial beings are not welcome here.”

  “Lady,” Tiara piped in. “You’ve got Blade Inferno all wrong. He’s definitely not an Angel—not even close. He’s a Demon.”

  “You’re a Demon?” she asked, eyeing me with doubt as she walked from behind the desk and examined me.

  “Demon by birth or by design?” I asked in a silky tone, still curious about her breeding. What was she?

  “I sense Angel—not Demon.” She circled me as the Eunuchs watched carefully, ready to attack at any moment.

  They didn’t stand a chance, but a fight would be quite relaxing right now. The old witch’s senses were keen. Very rarely was I recognized for my true being.

  “Does it really matter? Is an adopted child any less of a child?” I shot back.

  “No.”

  “All right then, next question.”

  “You didn’t answer my first,” she said, stepping away from me.

  I felt the loss of her heat immediately. Had she tried to put a spell of sorts on me? Interesting.

  “You didn’t ask one. You only made assumptions.”

  “I don’t make assumptions. I speak truth—and I use words that make sense.”

  She did. However, my lineage was none of her business. I had half a mind to show her exactly who I was, but blowing my cover at the moment didn’t seem prudent.

  “I shall give you one more chance,” I ground out through clenched teeth as a menacing wind began to blow through the room. “Tell Miss Rinoa that Blade Inferno is coming back to have his picture made.”

  The old woman shrugged and laughed. “Go. Go tell her yourself. I know for certain she’ll be appalled to meet you. She and I think very much alike.”

  “We shall see about that,” I growled.

  “Yes, we shall,” she replied wit
h another chilling cackle.

  Storming away from the laughing fool, I waved my hand and blasted the door that I assumed to be the studio with an explosion of red fire. Astrid and Tiara were on my heels as I strode angrily into the room—only to find it empty. No camera. No equipment. No Adrielle Rinoa.

  No fucking way.

  I use words that make sense. My men. She and I think very much alike. I absolutely speak for my boss—my word is her word.

  Words. I didn’t listen to the words. Damn it, my mother was correct. The words had meaning, I just wasn’t listening. The old woman wasn’t the receptionist for Adrielle Rinoa. She was Adreille Rinoa.

  With a furious curse and a massive explosion, I transported myself right back to the desk in a blast of glittering black magic. I’d been made a fool of and I was not pleased—at all.

  As the smoke cleared, I was met by a sight that would be burned into my mind for the rest of time. I gripped the edge of the desk to stay on my feet. Suddenly breathless, I stared at the vision before me.

  “Amazing,” I murmured, taking in the glorious evil beauty.

  Behind the desk now stood the most exquisite woman I’d witnessed in my eternity—masses of honey blonde hair framed her perfect face and her body would make the Angels on high weep.

  She was surrounded by twelve Eunuchs and literally glowed in a sparkling amethyst light. Her eyes were a deep purple ringed with gold and they glared straight into my soul with fury and displeasure. Her wild blonde hair blew around her head as strong gusts of sensual magic darted around the room.

  I knew what she was now. Adrielle Rinoa was most definitely a Siren. They were clearly not extinct. I was shocked, intrigued and wildly aroused.

  “Did you find her?” Adrielle, aka Elle, aka the soul seller, inquired as she tossed the grayish brown spectacles to the floor.

  “I do believe I did. You’ve been a very bad girl, Adrielle Rinoa,” I shot back, bending slightly forward to release the pressure of the most painful erection I’d had to date.

  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “All right,” I said smoothly, regaining my composure—if not control of my dick. “I know that you’re going to have to answer to me about your little soul selling venture.”

  “I don’t answer to anyone,” she replied breezily in a sexually charged musical voice, eyeing me curiously as I didn’t fall to my knees in front of her.

  Most men would be lost by now with the way she was throwing her deadly carnal power around.

  I was not most men.

  “You will answer to me,” I replied, throwing some of her own hedonistic spell right back at her.

  My Siren grew uncomfortable quickly and tilted her head as she examined me like an experiment gone wrong.

  “What are you?” she whispered.

  “I’m your worst fucking nightmare, my love. Now that I’ve found you, I do believe I might keep you.”

  “You really think you’ve found me?” she asked, narrowing her purple gaze dangerously.

  “Don’t think… know.”

  “Finders keepers. Losers weepers. Start weeping, big boy,” she said as she slowly raised her arms and disappeared along with her henchmen in a raging gust of amethyst magic.

  “What the hey-hey?” Tiara shouted as she reentered the room, diving at the desk and trying to stop the exodus with brute strength.

  Astrid was right behind her and they landed in a tangled heap on the floor. Not only had the Siren disappeared, but all the furniture down to the chandeliers and nude statues had accompanied her.

  “She got away,” Astrid gasped, crawling to her feet and examining the now empty room. “What the Hell was that?”

  “It might have been my fate,” I replied absently as I bent down and picked up the only evidence that she had even been here.

  Holding the ugly glasses in my hand, I examined them closely. She’d hidden those amethyst eyes behind them. She was hiding much more—of that I was certain.

  Only one species in the Universe had eyes like hers and I was sure they’d been gone for centuries. I was wrong. The soul seller might have hidden from me once, but she would never be as successful again.

  “Where did she go?” Tiara asked as she sprinted around the room searching for clues.

  “Don’t know.”

  “Do you think she has something to do with the darkness coming?” Astrid asked, watching me pocket the glasses.

  “Do you believe in accidents?” I inquired.

  “Is there a correct answer to that question?” Astrid countered.

  “Yes, there is. There are no accidents,” I replied. “I don’t know if this Elle woman is bringing on the darkness, but I will bet my immortal life that she will lead me to it.”

  “But if you follow her, you could be walking straight to your death,” Tiara pointed out.

  “And how in the mother humpin’ Hell can you follow her? She disappeared with everything except the kitchen sink.”

  “Not to worry, my sweets. I’m Satan. I can find anyone.”

  “Seriously?” Tiara asked, impressed.

  “But of course. And I do think my Siren wants to be found.”

  “Umm… could have fooled me. Why do you think that?” Astrid asked as she stowed her weapons and straightened her sister’s wild hair.

  “Because she left me a gift to track her with.” I held them in the air. “I have her glasses.”

  “So we’re just gonna go get her?” Tiara questioned.

  “Nope, we’re going to go about normal business. It will lead us right back to her.”

  Astrid wrinkled her nose and gave me a look. “Sounds a little wonky to me.”

  “How old are you?” I asked.

  “Thirty.”

  “How old am I?” I continued.

  “Umm… older than dirt?” Astrid replied with a grin.

  “Correct. Trust me on this. I know what I’m doing.”

  Or at least I hoped I did… Only time would tell. I might not have much left, but it would certainly be interesting.

  Fate was a bitch, but at this juncture I found her antics entertaining.

  Very entertaining.

  Chapter Eleven

  “What fresh Hell is this?” I demanded, stepping quickly behind my nieces to avoid all the grabby hands of the overly excited women.

  The large ballroom of the hotel Astrid had insisted we go to was filled to the brim with insane and aggressive women. I loved women—a lot—but this was a bit much even for me. There was very little rhyme or reason to the madness. They reminded me of hungry piranhas and I was clearly on the menu.

  “It’s the Romance Readers Anonymous Convention—acronym RRAC—kind of what it looks like all these women are going to do to you—so cover your jewels, Uncle Hot Pants. Apparently, your book is a smash hit, dude,” she replied, blocking a particularly pushy trio of women.

  And that’s when I noticed the books—piles and piles of them set out at tables with formerly smiling authors sitting behind them. They were no longer smiling as the crowd had now set about tackling me, or racking me if Astrid was correct in her assessment.

  Damn it to Hell. What had I been thinking? No one had explained this clusterfuck to me. This was utterly debased insanity.

  “What do they want?” I shouted over the rising hysteria as I noticed the twenty foot posters of me plastered all over the room looking incredibly sexy, if I did say so myself. They were a tad bit out of date since I was fairly sure they’d been snapped in the 1970’s, but I hadn’t aged in millions of years. I was a handsome bastard.

  “You,” Tiara shouted causing a chandelier to crack and fall to the ground. “They want you!”

  “Of course they do,” I said with an eye roll. “I’m Satan. Everyone wants a piece of this, but…”

  “Oh my God,” a woman who stood no more than four feet tall and had a mop of blue and pink hair screamed at the top of her lungs. “It’s Blade Inferno. The highest paid romance author in the world.�
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  She waved a newspaper high above her head with an outstanding picture of me on the front page which was definitely more recent. My agent must have had a few good shots sent over from Hell for the press release. Maybe I’d keep him after all. Normally, seeing my smiling face was delightful. Right at this very moment—not so much.

  At least three hundred rabid women were now gunning for me. It would be horrible form to incinerate them so I did what any sane leader of everything evil would do. I froze them. All of them.

  It was amusing in a nightmarish way. Hundreds of women in mid-step or mid-grab—mouths open in silent screams of excitement. Eyes bulging and hands extended.

  “I really hope this isn’t permanent,” Astrid said, staring in shock at the now silent and immobile room.

  “It’s not,” I replied as I stepped out from behind my nieces and took a look around. “What exactly is happening here? Is this some type of subculture I’m unaware of?”

  “It’s on the itinerary your idiot agent had messengered to us by a freakin’ three headed pigeon,” Astrid said with a laugh and a shake of her head. “Doesn’t the doucheball have a phone or a computer?”

  “When did this happen?” I asked, taking the paper from Astrid’s hand.

  “Hmm… let me see,” Tiara said with her finger to her lip, mocking deep thought. “I believe it was when we were walking down Michigan Avenue while you were checking yourself out in every single window we passed.”

  “What can I say?” I inquired with a shrug. “It’s a sunny day and I’m gorgeous.”

  “Right,” Tiara said with a snort. “You didn’t even notice when the deformed pigeon attacked what was left of the buzzards you let loose on the city. It was a bloody damned mess.”

  “Who won?” I asked, perusing the itinerary.

  “Astrid did,” Tiara informed me, picking up a book and checking out the back cover. “She sent the remaining buzzards and the three headed monstrosity to your bedroom in Hell.”

  “Is that a horrid joke?” I asked, glancing up in alarm from the paper.