Fashionably Fanged

by Robyn Peterman

“No, not today,” The Kev said. “I will fight you and you will fight back. Think of it as a training session with me—real and tremendously painful.”

  “You would do that for me?” I asked as I threw myself at him and hugged him tight.

  “Of course I would,” he said, giving me a peck on the top of my head. “You need your ass kicked? I’m your man.”

  “Not sure I can smack down on Billy Ray Cyrus,” I slid out of his warm embrace and sized him up. It seemed kind of mean to kick Billy Ray’s ass.

  “How about this?”

  He morphed before my eyes into Patrick Swayze.

  “Ohmygod, no! I loved him in Ghost. That would be sacrilegious,” I whispered, trying not to giggle.

  “Hulk Hogan?” he inquired as he magically shifted into the famous wrestler.

  “Nope. Can you go cheesier?”

  In a hot second he was John Stamos.

  “No. I loved Full House. I can’t go Rambo on Uncle Jesse.”

  “You’re not making this easy, little one.” The Kev’s tone was stern but his eyes were lit with amusement.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled with an apologetic smile.

  The Kev paced while he further considered my request. “How about I take on the façade of someone you’d like to have a go at?” he suggested with a gleam in his eye.

  “Someone I hate?” I asked, squinting back at him. That gleam made me a little nervous.

  “Fine line between love and hate, my little friend. But for the purpose at hand, let’s say yes.”

  It made sense. Needing to get it over with quickly before solitary, it might spike my adrenaline to feel like I was fighting a foe.

  Wrinkling my nose in distaste, I suggested the very worst of the worst. “You want to take a crack at Vlad?”

  “No, even I can’t go that low,” The Kev said with a shudder. “Let’s just say I’ll become someone that you’re very angry at…”

  “And who would that be?” I questioned, warily.

  The Kev said nothing, but went from Hulk Hogan to the man I wanted to rip apart with my bare hands. I was unsure if I was angry with The Kev or my reaction to the man he’d just become. Deciphering that would take introspective thought and admitting things to myself that I had no intention of acknowledging—now or ever.

  My fists clenched at my sides and my adrenaline spiked sky high. My face felt flushed and I was furious at The Kev for knowing my secret. I knew I was still with The Kev, but my reaction was anything but sane.

  The Kev wanted to rile me up? He’d succeeded.

  I was about to go hand to hand with Gareth.

  Heaven help us all.

  Chapter Seven

  “Oh my freakin’ hell,” I choked out, as I spit the blood that was filling my mouth. “I said hand me my ass, not rearrange my face.”

  We’d been brawling for twenty minutes—it felt like twenty years. The Kev was the toughest opponent I’d ever faced. I was just thankful it was a training session and not the real thing. I’d be dead on the floor if it was—for real dead.

  “You calling it quits?” The Kev inquired as he expertly rolled and kicked my legs out from under me.

  Jumping to my feet, I back-flipped and scissor kicked him in the head. The sound of his nose breaking was tremendously satisfying in a horrible way.

  “I’m sorry,” I apologized, and then grunted as he landed a fist in my stomach.

  “No worries. It will heal.” The Kev laughed with delight as he rang my bell with a solid right hook to my cheekbone. “No one has broken my nose in a fight in over seven hundred years. Congratulations.”

  “Thank you,” I replied, and got in my own one-two punch to his jaw.

  “I think it’s interesting that Gareth evokes such passion in you,” The Kev observed while landing an excruciating blow to my ribs.

  “Don’t think,” I ground out, nailing an excellent jab to his lower back. “Thinking is overrated.”

  His bellow of laughter made me furious. He was correct about Gareth. However, so was I—thinking was overrated and I refused to do it. It would get me in trouble. I was in enough trouble at the moment trying to hold my own against a tsunami of fists.

  “Enough,” The Kev announced with great joy. “The mission has been accomplished.”

  Dropping to my knees, I knelt for a moment so my head would stop spinning. The Kev wasn’t even breathing hard. Of course, I didn’t breathe at all anymore, but if I did, I’d for certain be hyperventilating.

  Beware of what you wish for was becoming my new motto. The Kev punched like a freight train that had derailed from the tracks and was hurtling toward Hell at warp speed. My lips were split and my arm was broken. I was fairly certain several of my ribs were cracked and my left eye was swollen shut. Not to mention every muscle in my body was on fire.

  “You okay?” The Kev asked as he nursed a few wounds of his own and reset his nose with a click and a crunch.

  “Absolutely not,” I mumbled through my bloody lips. “I’m really sorry about your nose.”

  “Are you?” he inquired with a raised brow that was also bleeding.

  “Um… no. Not really,” I said with a giggle that sounded more like a wheeze.

  His smile looked bizarre with all the blood pouring from his face. Thankfully he’d morphed back into Billy Ray Cyrus. If he’d still been Gareth, I might have gone for another swipe at his head.

  “I’m so proud of you, my little one.” He squatted down and took my throbbing, bloody hands into his. “Not many in this world can give me a run for my money and live to brag about it. You are very special, Venus.”

  All the pain and agony I’d just gone through was now officially worth it. My aching body literally tingled at his praise. To be complimented by The Kev on my fighting skills was equal to a thousand Christmas mornings rolled into one.

  Bowing my head in respect, I wanted to cry but I didn’t. Big girls didn’t cry. They kicked ass and took names. I was a big girl. I’d always had to be one.

  “You humble me with your praise,” I told him as I leaned into his comforting warmth. “I adore you.”

  “And I you,” he replied as he carefully pushed my hair off of my wrecked face. “You look like Hell warmed over. You have accomplished your goal.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Welcome.”

  He stood and started to walk away then turned back and paused. “Venus, things are not always as they seem. You would be wise to take that to heart and listen to your instincts even if they don’t tell you what you want to hear.”

  “Would you like to be more specific?” I went to put my hands on my hips, but my broken arm screamed in pain. Damn, he’d worked me over like a punching bag.

  “Now what would be the fun in that?” he replied with a smile. “Be safe my little friend and know that you are exceptional—on the inside and on the outside.”

  And with that cryptic message, he left.

  Glancing back at the still unconscious Martha and Jane, I checked my blood smeared watch and groaned. It felt like I’d spent hours with The Kev when in reality it was only a tremendously violent thirty minutes. I had about fifteen minutes before I had to go to solitary. I should find Astrid and demand an explanation about her secrecy last night, but healing was going to take all of my energy. The damage The Kev had inflicted would take the rest of the day to repair itself.

  Energy for dealing with Astrid was energy I didn’t have to spare at the moment.

  Astrid clearly didn’t get the Venus doesn’t want to talk memo.

  “What in the freakin’ hell have you been up to?” Astrid demanded as she took in my sorry state with an expression of shock on her lovely face.

  Five more minutes and I would have missed her but alas, luck wasn’t on my side this afternoon. My bad day yesterday was now turning into a bad week.

  “Got into a fight with the weed whacker,” I deadpanned with a grin.

  “Dude, seriously. What happened?”

  We were standing
outside the bolted doorway that led down to the area where solitary confinement was housed. It was heavily guarded with four outstanding and deadly Vampyres that I’d trained myself. I’d received a brief handwritten note from Ethan sketching out the plan, which I’d memorized and promptly burned. Paper trails were for amateurs.

  “The Kev did me a little favor so Juliette will buy the fact I’m being thrown into solitary,” I told her with a wince, glancing down at my blood-stained clothes. My pretty pink Lululemon workout outfit sported large red splotches.

  “Brilliant,” Astrid said with a wide grin of approval. “Did you get any good punches in? The Kev is a ball busting force of nature with a vicious left hook.”

  “He left bleeding, with a broken nose and a nice bruise on his jaw,” I informed her proudly.

  “Holy crapballs,” she shouted and grabbed me in a hug that made me see stars. “You’re my freakin’ hero. Took me months to get a face shot on that wonderful son of a bitch.”

  “Ease up,” I choked out as I felt my broken ribs shriek in horror. “Kind of a mess here.”

  “Sorry.” She let go and then gently touched my face. “God, you look really bad. Is there anything you want to ask me before you go in?”

  “Nothing about Juliette,” I told her as I pondered that question and set the others I had aside. “The less I know the better. I can’t slip up if I’m not aware of too many details. I’m just going to trash you people and hope she bites. Ethan got me up to speed on the plan. I know what I need to know, which is enough for now.”

  “Perfect. Your execution is scheduled for early evening, so work fast,” Astrid said with a giggle and an eye roll. “You leave tonight for the pageant.”

  “Where am I going?” I asked, almost forgetting about the main part of the mission. Thirty minutes of getting pulverized by The Kev could make anyone forgetful.

  “Oklahoma City. The armpit of the United States.”

  “Who gave it that nickname?” I asked with a grimace as I blotted away some oozing blood from my cheek with the back of my hand.

  “I did,” Gareth announced as he rounded the corner and froze when he spotted me.

  The hallway became claustrophobic and I closed my eyes to escape. I’d pretended as a child that if I couldn’t see what was happening it couldn’t see me either. It hadn’t worked then and it wasn’t working now.

  The shit I was in just kept getting deeper.

  Gareth’s blue eyes went green with fury and his lips compressed to a thin line. “Who did this to you?” he hissed as he put his hands on my shoulders and took in all my injuries. “I’ll fucking kill them.”

  “Back off,” I snapped and tried to get out of his hold. Not happening.

  I was physically wrecked and he was screwing with my emotional wellbeing. There was only so much a Vampyre on the edge could take and I was at my limit.

  “Who did this? Juliette?” he repeated in a tone that scared even me.

  “I did this,” I told him. “I needed to look beat up in solitary. I did it.”

  “Impossible,” he snapped, looking me over. “You couldn’t have done this. You will tell me who did this or I will put you over my knee until you can remember the name.”

  Astrid’s snicker of amusement didn’t go unnoticed, but was ignored by both of us.

  “I’d like to see you try that,” I growled, pushing down the little voice in my head that insisted that might be fun.

  “Don’t test me, Venus,” he said in a voice that was as sexy as it was menacing.

  I needed my head checked. I hated and wanted this insane Vampyre. He was causing me to feel things that I didn’t understand. If I wasn’t a bloody wreck, I’d do to him what I’d just done to The Kev.

  “Drink from me,” he insisted, pressing his wrist to my swollen lips.

  “Nope, she can’t,” Astrid cut in quickly, saving me from a huge mistake. “She needs to look bad in solitary so Juliette won’t suspect anything. She’ll heal. The Kev just roughed her up, he’d never truly do Venus any damage.”

  “The Kev did this?” he demanded, his gaze boring into mine.

  “Yes,” I said wearily. “I asked him to. If you give him any grief about it, I will use all of my new found knowledge on you.”

  “Sounds intriguing,” Gareth said as he tilted my chin up and further studied my face.

  The hallway grew impossibly small and the guards were now watching the scene with far more interest than I was comfortable with. His hands on my battered face felt right. WTH? My instincts, which had clearly been broken along with my arm and my ribs, were telling me to accept his comfort.

  “I don’t like you,” I whispered, trying to figure out why my insides were rioting.

  He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head. A ghost of a smile pulled at his lips. “But I like you. A lot.”

  “That’s a waste of your time,” I shot back.

  “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  “Um… guys?” Astrid cut in. “While I’m enjoying this a whole freakin’ bunch, we have to shake it up here.”

  “Right,” I mumbled in embarrassment as I wiggled out of Gareth’s grasp and turned away. “Give me an hour at least. If I need more, I’ll send Ethan a message.”

  “The transmitter on your watch still works?” Astrid asked, doubtfully checking out my blood-smeared timepiece.

  I nodded and put more space between Gareth and myself. Spending time alone with him on the mission was going to be more complicated than I’d originally thought. It sucked all kinds of butt that we were the only two going. Reminding myself of his reputation gave me strength. Reminding myself of my shit taste in men made my backbone stiffen with resolve.

  I was doing my job. Gareth would not be a perk. Play me once? Shame on you. Play me twice? Shame on me. If we failed, he died. There was no time to dally with things that could possibly break my undead heart.

  “An hour,” I said, keeping my focus on Astrid. “Are there any hidden microphones down there?”

  “Absolutely,” she said. “We’ll all be listening. We might understand things you’ll miss.”

  “Then I’ll apologize in advance,” I told her with a grimace as I signaled to the guards to unbolt the door.

  “For what?” Astrid asked.

  “For all the shitty things I’m about to say.”

  Chapter Eight

  Solitary was dark, dank and depressing. The cells were small and each housed a cot and a chair. There were eight of them—four on the left and four on the right. A ten-foot aisle separated the row of cages. I shuddered at the feeling being locked up evoked in my gut, but quickly reminded myself that I was playing a game. Juliette was the only real prisoner inhabiting the bleak accommodations at the moment.

  My guards, Gil and Sven, threw me into the cell violently and locked the door without speaking a word. Thankfully Sven’s back was to Juliette because his expression of remorse at having to handle me so harshly would have blown the plan to Hell.

  The two men were my good friends. We’d fought side by side through many battles. I’d trained them well. When I’d told them to handle me roughly, they took me at my word—no questions asked.

  Juliette said nothing as I climbed painfully to my feet and ran my still bleeding hands over the thick stone wall at the back of the cage. Then I tested the lock chained to the bars of the cell.

  “Forget it, Vampyre,” she snapped with a laugh that sent a chill up my spine. “No way out.”

  I ignored her as I continued to case the tiny confines. Being nice and chatty wasn’t going to get me anywhere. Juliette had responded to two people as far as I knew—her mother and Vlad. Both of those individuals were cruel and dismissive.

  “Are you deaf or just stupid?” she demanded, watching me with interest.

  “Shut it,” I snarled. “Don’t believe I asked you for advice.”

  “Whatever, bitch.” She muttered a few other rude obscenities under her breath and then sat down on her cot to watch the show.


  I could feel her eyes on me as I went over every inch of the cell with meticulous focus. However, it wasn’t until I sat down that she finally spoke again.

  “Told you,” she said with a laugh that made me glance up at her.

  It sounded a bit like Astrid’s laugh, but she had nothing else of Astrid in her. They might have been born of the same evil woman, but that’s where the similarities ended.

  She was blonde where Astrid was a brunette. Juliette was every kind of vile sin personified and Astrid was the embodiment of every kind of goodness and light. The woman in the cell was insane and dangerous. I’d experienced first hand the deadly havoc she could wreak. Many of the Cressida House Vampyres had perished when she’d summoned Wraiths and brought Trolls to our compound. Juliette was batshit crazy and not in the somewhat sweet, politically incorrect way Martha and Jane were.

  Martha and Jane—even with insulting afros—were harmless saints compared to the woman staring daggers at me. Juliette was simply horrifying.

  “Why are you here?” she demanded.

  Again, I ignored her.

  She rattled the bars of her cage and hissed at me like an animal. “Fine. Don’t speak, bitch.”

  “You. Will. Stop. Talking,” I informed her as my eyes went green and my fangs dropped. “You are giving me a headache. Considering I just got pummeled by six Vamps, that’s quite a feat.”

  “Ohhh,” she purred. “I live for compliments.”

  “Doesn’t look like you’re living too well then,” I shot back and gingerly set my broken arm. The snap, crackle, pop of the bones as they slid back into alignment was sickeningly satisfying. Even as long as I’d been undead, I was still amazed at my healing capacity.

  “I’ll be living large soon,” she informed me snidely. “Too bad you won’t.”

  “I call bullshit, Blondie. They’ll probably remove your head along with mine later today. I hear they’re vacating the compound,” I lied going off one of the suggestions Ethan had made in his note.

  “Really?” she asked, now rabidly interested. “Today is the day? This is so exciting. I’ve missed my family so. I can’t wait to see my sister.”