Fashionably Hotter Than Hell

by Robyn Peterman

  Her laughter disappeared and her eyes glowed green with desire.

  “I’ve loved you for so long I don’t remember what it was like not to love you,” she admitted and pressed her body to mine.

  The feelings that rushed through me were so much more than sexual. I was whole with her in my arms. Never had I let myself imagine how perfect it would be to have her truly be mine.

  “Has Astrid ever watched Love at First Bite or Buffy?” she asked with an evil snort.

  “No and please don’t suggest either,” I begged.

  I’d seen Love at First Bite and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. My sister, Cathy thought they were hilarious. We drank shots of vodka for every time a set of fangs popped out. Those were some of the very few times I’d tied one on as a Vampyre.

  “How about once we find my brother and kick his ass for bringing us here, we watch every cheesy Vampyre movie ever made,” she suggested with wide and excited eyes.

  She looked like a child on Christmas morning. I wanted to laugh and kiss her senseless. “What do I get if I take part in this mind numbing activity with you?”

  “Ummm… what do you want?” she asked with a lopsided grin.

  “Actually, I have everything I’ve ever wanted, but… ”

  “But what?”

  She stood up on her toes and tried to go nose to nose with me. This of course was impossible due to our height difference so I lifted her up to aid her in her quest. With her breasts mashed against my chest and my erection making me slightly dizzy, I forgot what we were talking about. The only thought in my brain was to get her naked.

  “But what?” she repeated, enjoying my lust addled confusion.

  “What was the question again?”

  “You are such a guy.” She groaned and nipped at my lips.

  “And that’s a problem?” I asked as I ground the evidence of my guy-ness into her girl-ness.

  “Not a problem at all. When the blood returns to your brain you can set your terms. But right now we need to find Gareth,” she said as she pressed her lips to mine and slid back to the ground.

  She was correct and for the life of me I still couldn’t figure out what the question had been. Honestly, I didn’t give a fuck. Holding her and knowing she was mine trumped pretty much anything at the moment.

  “I’ll get back to you on terms and you will get behind me,” I told her as I adjusted my pants and started moving toward where I sensed Gareth.

  “Yes, sir… master,” she quipped with another snort and a quick grab of my ass.

  “Hands to yourself, Red… or we’re going to have hot monkey sex in a tomb,” I warned.

  “Promises, promises,” she muttered as she pushed me along.

  I silently willed my dick to behave. It wouldn’t endear me to her brother if I was jack-knifed over because of a raging erection for his sister.

  No. Wouldn’t do at all.

  Chapter 14

  I was correct. I’d sensed Gareth.

  But he wasn’t the same man I remembered—not by a long shot.

  “Well, well, well, it’s about time, sister o’mine. It was getting quite boring down here with only the rats to converse with,” Gareth quipped weakly with a confidence that belied his haggard appearance. His accent was unique—British tinged with a bit of Russian.

  He was heavily chained with silver and trapped in a filthy cage warded by very dark magic. The enchantment held Raquel and me about a foot back from the bars and sizzled with menace.

  I hadn’t seen Gareth in approximately a decade—mere minutes in Vampyre time, but I didn’t remember him looking anything like he did now. He’d been a striking man and stood at least six foot four. However, he appeared to have shrunk… and aged.

  How was that possible? We were immortal for God’s sake. We stopped aging around thirty.

  He looked at least forty-five. His jet black hair was laced with grey. His blue eyes were dull with a world weariness and his face was gaunt. This was not the vibrant, arrogant asshole I’d spent many violently pleasurable hours with, but at least his personality still seemed intact.

  I stared at Gareth in shock. His pained laugh knocked me back into stark reality.

  “Raquel dear, I haven’t been laid in a month. I think my balls may have shrunk back up into my stomach which is not helpful to my reputation. Heathcliff my man, good to see you. As you can see, I’m in a bit of a bind here and was hoping you could help me out. All bad puns intended.”

  Raquel paled as she took in the horrific sight of her brother. Her slim hand covered her mouth and tears ran down her cheeks. “What happened to you?” she whispered in a strangled voice.

  “Good question. I may have fucked the wrong gal,” he mused with a smile on his lips that didn’t come close to reaching his eyes.

  “Stop it,” she hissed and tried to approach the bars of the cage.

  Her attempt to get closer was in vain. The magic hissed and turned a vicious and sparkling blood red. It curled into the shape of large hands and threw her back. I caught her in my arms and held her firmly. There was no way in Hell she was doing that again. Whoever had warded the cell was determined to keep Gareth inside and all others away. The magic was powerful and as black as they came.

  “Who put you here?” I asked as I kept a solid hold on Raquel in case she tried again.

  Gareth observed my grip on his sister with great interest. With a raised eyebrow and a smirk, he chuckled. “As to your question—I have no fucking idea who put me here. But I have a question for you… Is there something the two of you would like to share?”

  “Heathcliff and I are mated,” Raquel said as she stared at her brother.

  He was silent and watched her strangely. “You’re serious?” he asked as he attempted to stand.

  His chains weighed him down and he fell to the floor with a sickening thud. I felt Raquel’s gasp in the pit of my stomach. My instinct was to lash out at him. Did he too think I wasn’t good enough for his sister? The simple fact that his pride was suffering blows more painful than any words I could throw at him was the only thing that held me back.

  He crawled to the edge of the cage and tried to reach for his sister. The spell zapped him and his weak form was blasted back to the corner of his prison.

  “Gareth,” Raquel screamed.

  Blood poured from a wound above his eyebrow and he quickly put up a hand to halt any idea she had of trying to approach him.

  “Stay,” he commanded. “Don’t come near me.”

  “You’re dying,” she whispered brokenly. “You’re aging and dying.”

  “Yes, well that sucks for me, doesn’t it?” he replied wearily. “I am happy for you, beloved sister of mine—and for you, Heathcliff. I am forever in your debt for saving her and loving her.”

  “I’ve always loved her,” I told the man whose intentions I’d misunderstood.

  “Yes, well, you didn’t give up. You broke the curse. My sister is something of a conundrum with a conscience. Quite frustrating if you ask me.”

  “No one asked you,” she snapped.

  “Touché,” he shot back with a smile.

  “I didn’t kill him,” she told her brother. “And he didn’t care if I did. He loves me.”

  “Then he’s just as crazy as you are little sister. You two should be very happy together,” Gareth said as he mopped at the blood pouring down his face.

  “How long have you been down here?” I asked as I assessed the area for cameras or any other recording equipment. It was clean.

  “A month—a day. I don’t know. Somehow I lost track of time. My brain is muddled,” he said and then shook his head in confusion.

  A Vampyre of his age could go a long time without drinking blood, but in his compromised state this was clearly not the case—even a day was too long in his condition. The silver chains alone had stolen much of his power and strength.

  Gareth needed to feed, but getting it to him was an issue.

  “You need blood,” I said tersely
.

  “And a hooker if you happen to have one of those in your pocket,” he added.

  “The manwhore game is unattractive and beneath you,” Raquel informed him angrily. “You’re dying and aging. Someone did this to you and I highly doubt it was a flighty paramour.”

  “You are both correct on all of your observations,” he said staring off into space. “I’ve tried to put the puzzle of my latest predicament together yet I’ve come up empty.”

  “Enemies?” I scanned the cage for any weakness and found none.

  “Too many to count,” he replied with a hollow laugh.

  “Where were you right before this happened?” I asked as I rolled up my sleeve and searched for the largest artery in my wrist.

  “I was at a gathering with an excessively large amount of pompous undead assholes—I’m almost sure it was yesterday. Maybe I was at the Summit.”

  He frowned as he observed me and pulled himself to a sitting position.

  “Pot, kettle, black on the asshole part,” Raquel muttered as she watched my actions with curiosity. “What are you doing?”

  “He needs blood and I’m going to feed him,” I explained as my fangs dropped and I bit into my wrist.

  “You can’t go near him,” she said frantically.

  Her concern for my wellbeing moved me. I turned and winked at the woman who had invaded my every thought for centuries. “That is astute, my love. However, let’s see if a stream of my blood can make it past the wards.”

  “You’re hot and brilliant.” She quickly hugged me and promptly rolled up her own sleeve.

  “Certifiable is more like it,” Gareth mumbled as he crawled as close as he dared to the edge of the cage.

  “Been called worse, motherfucker,” I replied with a grin. “Open up.”

  Gareth opened his chapped and torn mouth and waited. I aimed and fired. I had to work quickly. I healed as quickly as I could open my vein.

  The blood made it past the enchantment but fell short of passing through the bars. Gareth stared numbly at the pool of blood just beyond his reach.

  “Damn it,” I hissed. “I need a better artery.”

  “Your neck,” Raquel insisted urgently. “If I nick it instead of piercing it, it will spray longer and farther.”

  “And you know this, how?” I asked amused by the gory knowledge my mate possessed.

  “For a while I fancied being a doctor—even went to medical school. The non-aging thing became a problem, so now I just stick to reading medical journals for fun,” she explained.

  “Smart and sexy. Damn, but I lucked out,” I stated proudly.

  “Dying over here,” Gareth reminded us in a tone dripping with sarcasm.

  “Right. I can’t really see to aim well if we use my neck. How much strength do you have to move?” I asked as I hoisted Raquel up to bite me.

  “Enough,” he said flatly.

  “I can help with the aim,” Raquel said. “Get on your knees, Heathcliff. It’s closer to Gareth’s mouth. If I knick your artery correctly the blood should spurt about eighteen inches. On a human it would only last about thirty seconds, but we’re not even remotely human.”

  “Medical journals?” I asked her with raised brows.

  “Medical journals,” she confirmed with a giggle.

  “Isn’t it amazing we bleed yet have no heart?” Gareth said absently as he forced himself to his knees.

  “We have hearts. They just don’t beat,” Raquel corrected him.

  “Speak for yourself,” he mumbled.

  “So cynical,” she snapped as she let her fangs drop and prepared to bite me.

  “Not all of us have been lucky enough to find our true mates,” he countered softly.

  “Well if you’d quit sticking your thing into everything without a pulse, you might have better luck at finding her,” she accused.

  “Now where’s the fun in that?” Gareth parried with a smirk. “I hate to disappoint the ladies.”

  Raquel’s laugh was muffled in my neck. I even had to chuckle at that one. Gareth’s reputation with the ladies would be a difficult one to live down. If he ever was blessed with finding his true mate, there would be Hell to pay.

  Raquel peeked over at her brother with an evil little grin. “You’ll find her, Gareth. And when you do, I hope I’m there to see it. Whoever the lucky lady is… she’s going to kick your sorry ass.”

  “Would you care to lay a bet on that, sweet sister?” he challenged.

  Her pause was thoughtful and her indecision was short. “Yes. Yes, I would.”

  “And your wager?”

  “The Renoir,” she stated without hesitation.

  “The one hanging in the Musée d’Orsay?” he asked with a wince.

  “Yep.”

  “That seems a little steep.” He laughed and shook his head. “You drive a hard bargain.”

  “It’s yours, isn’t it?” she asked.

  “Of course it is,” he huffed indignantly. “Auguste gave it to me himself. It’s simply on loan to the museum.”

  “Well, you can un-loan it when you lose,” she announced grandly. “It will look wonderful in my bedroom.”

  “You do know I offered to turn him,” Gareth let us in on a little known fact.

  “And he declined?” I surmised.

  “Maybe and maybe not,” Gareth said evasively. He grinned at me. “Go to the Musée d’Orsay on a Tuesday and you might find your answer.”

  “All right, enough bragging, Gareth,” Raquel chastised. “Auguste is most definitely alive and quite charming. I’ll have him to tea once we deal with the shit show we’ve obviously fallen into.”

  “That’s it,” I said loudly.

  “That’s what?” she asked confused.

  “I remember my terms.”

  Raquel grinned and Gareth looked perplexed.

  “You promised Astrid you would take up swearing. I don’t believe you’re holding up your end of that creative and alarming bet,” I announced with a sly smile.

  “And how would you have this information, my mate?” she inquired suspiciously. Her sparkling eyes narrowed to slits. It reminded me of our more destructive times…

  Shit. Busted.

  “I may have been present during that conversation,” I admitted sheepishly yet wildly turned on by her ire.

  She glared in silence—clearly displeased.

  “Fine,” I muttered. “It wasn’t my most noble moment. I was cloaked and hid my scent. I was a desperate man, my beautiful girl—anything to be near you.”

  “Stalker much?” Her eyes flashed and she slapped my shoulder.

  God, that was hot.

  “I think it was quite brilliant,” Gareth chimed in. “I’ll have to remember that one—very underhanded. So darling sister, let’s hear a little sample.”

  “You’re serious?” She wrinkled her nose and groaned. “It’s not me. I feel silly.”

  “You’ve always been a smidge uptight. I think some inventive profanities might do you good, and God knows I could use a laugh,” Gareth commented.

  “I will have your head and Astrid’s very soon,” she muttered as she closed her eyes and searched for something rude and offensive.

  She could have my head whenever she wanted it. Holding her and watching her squirm as she tried to fulfill her end of the obscenity dare was delightful.

  “Shall I start?” Gareth offered mildly with raised brows and a half smile.

  “Go ahead.” Raquel threw down the gauntlet with a snort.

  “Pecker jockey,” he announced with pride.

  “Creative swearing only—not self description,” she told him.

  “Good one!” he said with a pained grunt of laughter. “Your turn.”

  “Forgive me,” she muttered to the sky.

  With her eyes scrunched shut and an endearing blush high on her cheekbones she let it rip. It was as if we were ridiculous and naughty pre-pubescent teens. I was entranced by her—everything about this woman delighted me.


  “Bitch sniffer, ho gobbler, ball wad, asswaffle,” she shouted and then buried her head in my shoulder. “Are you idiots happy now?”

  “Ball wad?” Gareth questioned gleefully.

  “Asswaffle?” I added as my body shook with mirth.

  “You’re both rectum buckets and I’m done. We have more important business than to enjoy my lack of four letter word prowess,” she snapped and quickly nicked my neck. “Open your damn mouth, Gareth. Incoming.”