Fashionably Hotter Than Hell: Book Six, The Hot Damned Series

by Robyn Peterman

"You know, my cousin," she purred as we entered the ballroom, effectively ending our appalling talk. "There is a very thin line between love and hate."

  I sighed as my gaze travelled a full room. I despised it when Astrid got the last word in.

  ***

  The ballroom was filled with Vampyres dressed to kill. No pun intended.

  Many were leaving the compound in Kentucky tomorrow and going to France to attend a yearly Summit with the Angels. I expected Raquel to leave with them as she was the Princess of the European territory.

  The thought of Raquel leaving left an unsettled feeling inside me, which I decided to ignore. A bare bones contingency of fifty would stay behind to protect Prince Ethan, Astrid and Samuel. I was happy to have an excuse to get out of meeting with the Angels. Angelic? Yes. But were they pleasant? No.

  "Sweet cousin Jesus in a hula skirt," Astrid muttered as she glanced around the ballroom. "This clusterfuck makes me want to chew glass and swallow it."

  I had to agree but stayed mum. Vampyre politics were a bore. Watching the sucking up and posturing had grown tiresome over the years. But Astrid and I were both expected to deal.

  "There's a band," I observed. "I suppose there will be dancing."

  "Thank God. I should have invited Mother Nature. She would have twerked and scared the shit out of everyone. That would have cleared the room in a minute flat," she said with an evil grin.

  Astrid's grandmother on her father's side was Mother Nature—the most delightfully insane woman in existence. Of course, there would have been twerking and pole dancing, but there would have also been a forest exploding out of the marble floor and a zoo of animals in her wake. Ethan had just repaired the compound from her last visit. A new visit would not be welcome.

  "I have to go stand next to Ethan and pretend I'm listening to all the Vamps kissing his ass. They're all vying for an invite to the wedding even though they think it’s ridiculous," she said.

  Vampyres mated. They didn't marry. Marriage was a vow that could be broken, while mating was not. Most Vampyres ridiculed the human tradition of marriage, but not my cousin. Astrid was a newly turned Vampyre and her human traditions were still important to her. She played it off well, but I knew the derision hurt her.

  "Astrid," I said as I took her hand in mine.

  "Yes, Heathcliff?" she asked with an eye roll.

  "I don't think it's stupid at all. You should have what you want."

  She stopped and glanced at the floor for a moment, then up at me gratefully. "I don't think it's stupid either," she whispered. "I want to marry Ethan more than I've ever wanted anything."

  "More than Prada?" I teased.

  She barely missed a beat. "Yep, more than Prada, Gucci and Stella McCartney. You gonna be okay on your own, my devastatingly handsome cousin?" she inquired with a sly grin.

  "Aren't I always?" I replied.

  "You know," she winked at me as she walked away and said, "If you'd get your head out of your ass, you wouldn't have to be on your own."

  Ignoring her, I made my way into the crowd. Astrid was insane. I was happy alone. Being mated would keep me from… all sorts of things I needed to do.

  God damn it, I was going to avoid my cousin for a while.

  I was greeted respectfully by many and checked my watch repeatedly. How long did I have to stay? A brief appearance should be sufficient. As Prince Ethan's second in command of the North American Dominion, I was expected to attend all formal functions. I grabbed a blood laced scotch from the bar and leaned against a column. I would stay until I finished my drink and then I was out.

  "Heathcliff, darling," an exquisite Vampyre named Christina purred as she placed a perfectly manicured hand possessively on my chest. "I called you three times and haven't heard back. Are you avoiding me?"

  She was stunning, but for some reason she left me cold this evening. We had dallied on and off for years. She was safe—wanted nothing but sex. But sex with her was not what I craved at the moment.

  "Christina, lovely to see you," I said as I removed her hand and stepped back. "I've been quite busy, but I assure you I haven't been avoiding you."

  Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she covered it quickly with a seductive smile. "Well then, what say you we meet after the party?"

  "We'll see," I said distractedly as I became aware of an unwanted presence close by.

  What was Raquel doing here? She never came to parties at the Cressida House. She was above the American need to socialize at the drop of a hat. Apparently, she was slumming it tonight. I felt my blue eyes turn green with desire and Christina very mistakenly assumed it was for her.

  "I'll meet you at my place after the gathering," she whispered excitedly as she placed a wet kiss on my lips.

  "Not tonight," I replied tersely. "I'm busy."

  Her eyebrows rose in surprise and she stiffened. "Your loss."

  "I'm afraid it is," I said as politely as I could muster. I moved away from her. She was becoming a bit too clingy which I didn't want or need. I had enough problems.

  Where the Hell was Raquel? I could feel her and I was certain she could feel me. We were in a public setting and I was somewhat certain I was safe from flying objects—or so I hoped. She was a fucking flame and I was a moth. My thoughts were wild and I wanted to kill my cousin for putting them there.

  "Hi Heathcliff, you hot sexy dead dude," a small voice announced from my shoulder. "Can me touch your butt?"

  On my shoulders sat four Baby Demons: Beyoncé, Abe, Rachel and Ross. They stood about three inches high and caused more trouble than beings ten times their size. The miniature hellions belonged to Astrid and she let them have free rein of the compound. They were menaces with a fondness for ass grabbing and breast grazing.

  "No, Beyoncé. You may not touch my butt," I said as I plucked them off my shoulders and put them on the bar.

  "You no fun," she chastised me as she dove into a blood laced margarita.

  "You a pooper party," Rachel added as she walloped her buddy Ross in the head. He went flying into Abe and the melee began.

  "It's a party pooper," I said as I pulled Beyoncé out of the drink and separated the little nuisances. "If you can't behave, you’ll have to go back upstairs."

  "But you need me help," Abe insisted as he took a covert swipe at Ross' head.

  "And what exactly do I need your help with?" I asked as I quickly swigged down the rest of my scotch. Unfortunately, it was incredibly difficult for Vampyres to tie one on. It would take at least ten strong scotches for me to feel even slightly inebriated. I was going to have to deal with the Baby Demons and Raquel as a sober man.

  "To help you get the girl," he answered without a grammar issue and without suggesting I touch a butt.

  "What girl?" I asked as I signaled the bartender for another. This was turning out to be a long evening—and it wasn't even the evening yet. The sun still shone through the skylights in the ballroom. They were muted with protective glass since many Vampyres couldn't handle direct sunlight.

  "You know what girlllllllllllllll," Rachel said slyly as she hopped over my shoulder, latched onto the tail of my tux and slapped my ass. "The one you luuuuurrrrrrvvvvvvve."

  "I love no girl," I insisted and retrieved her before she took a dive into my pants. "And if I did, I am quite certain I could handle her on my own."

  "Me no think so," Abe said as he spastically slapped at his lips.

  The others joined his lip slapping antics and I watched perplexed. What the Hell were they doing?

  "Me think you need loooooootssssss of help," Ross added.

  "But if you no like girl here we take you to Big Sean's Booby Barn," Abe told me as he continued to slap his mouth. "Lots of girls be there."

  "Um, thank you, but no." I said as I picked up my new scotch and downed it.

  "Me wanna go to Booby Barn," Rachel squealed with bloodthirsty excitement. "Me hungry for bad Demons!"

  "Outstanding idea," I said quickly as I scooped them up and walked them to
the foyer. I did not need or want their help. The farther away they were the better.

  "You suuuure you no wanna come?" Abe asked with a huge grin on his face.

  "Quite," I replied.

  "You suuuuure you no want our help? You might beeeeee one of the prettiest Vampyres me ever seen, but you no smart," Beyoncé added as she blew me loud kisses.

  "I really don't think I need any help."

  "Me really think you do, but it be your hot pink bloodbath," she added gleefully.

  I was mute as I had no clue how to reply to that one. The Baby Demons were odd little creatures. It was definitely time for them to go.

  "Don't do anything we no do," Abe screamed as they poofed away to the strip club. I chuckled and shook my head. This day needed to end, but I had still had one more thing I needed to do.

  As I made my way back into the gathering, I saw her and stopped in my tracks. Raquel was poured into a sexy black halter dress that made her pale skin and red hair exquisite. My gut tightened and every instinct I had was wildly inappropriate. She was surrounded by her entourage of Vampyres from her European Dominion. All men. All entirely too close. Especially the red headed one who couldn't take his eyes off her.

  The American Vamps were paying respects—literally falling over themselves to get close to her. Raquel was both gracious and beautiful. She held the crowd in the palm of her hand. I observed jealously as she smiled and exchanged pleasantries with the besotted group of Vampyres. I ground my fangs and fought my desire to barge in, take her in my arms and lay claim. She shouldn't be here. She should be in Europe. Who in the Hell was running Europe while she was away? Only one way to find out.

  The band had started and the music was slow and sensual. The thought of holding her in my arms without being decapitated was appealing. It would be in bad taste for her to turn me down in front of an audience and worse for her to attack me. Win—win.

  Her eyes narrowed dangerously as I approached and I hoped my tux jacket hid the growing bulge in my pants. The Vampyres stepped back out of respect for me and I grinned at the alluring blush on her cheeks.

  "May I have this dance?" I asked.

  "No, you may not," the red haired goon, who had a seriously annoying French accent, said as he stepped in front of Raquel.

  The gasps and titters of our audience only served to deepen her blush. Her normally golden eyes had narrowed to slits and blazed green.

  "Interesting," I said in a deadly quiet voice as the idiot guard dropped his gaze from mine. I could destroy him in a second flat but knew that really wouldn't go over well. "I don't believe I asked you to dance. You're not my type."

  The titters were now full blown laughs.

  "My Princess does not dance," he insisted as he raised his eyes back to mine and glared.

  Part of me admired his vigilance. However, he was in the way of what I wanted, which was not working for me.

  "I find it fascinating that Raquel can't answer for herself," I said softly as I stared her down. "She was quite vocal this morn… "

  "Enough," she snapped. "It's fine, Jean Paul," she assured her henchman as she touched his shoulder. "I shall give him one dance."

  "Are you sure, my liege?" he asked doubtfully as he glanced up at the skylights. "It's almost time to leave."

  Raquel followed his gaze and gave him a curt nod. "It will be fine. One dance," she informed me as she placed her hand in mine. "Only one."

  "That's all I asked for, Princess," I said smoothly as I led her to the crowded dance floor.

  Her small hand in mine and the feel of her hip beneath the other was almost my undoing. Although, it was her scent that made my head spin—like a spring breeze mixed with desire.

  "It's quite ballsy of you to ask me to dance," she said as she stared hard at my mouth with displeasure.

  I grinned and pulled her tighter against my body. "Why would you say something like that?"

  "Well, I assumed from that shade of lipstick you're wearing that you’ve already been quite busy with someone else," she said.

  What was she talking about?

  "Or you've become a metrosexual jackassmonkeydouche. You know, hot pink really isn't your color. With your dark hair you could easily pull off red," she explained with wide eyes, clearly surprised that she’d taken Astrid’s advice on creative profanities. “Sorry about that jackdouche thing, it slipped out. However,” she continued caustically, back to her lovely self, “I have a difficult time with red because of my hair. I do have a few tubes I bought hoping I could make them work. I'd be happy to give them to you.”

  "What the Hell are you talking about?" I asked as I stopped dancing and pulled her closer, making it impossible for her to run or knee me in the balls. The appalling insult was funny the accusation—not so much.

  "Your lipstick. It's simply the wrong shade or you're actually a man whore." Her eyes spat fire and she tried to pull away.

  Not happening.

  God damn it. I should have listened to the Demons. My hot pink bloodbath was the leftover lipstick from Christina's kiss. Not good form. The insane lip smacking now made sense. I quickly swiped my lips and made a mental note to listen to the ass-obsessed menaces next time. However, Raquel’s obvious jealousy made my pants even tighter.

  "Overzealous greeting," I muttered with a shrug.

  "Right," she said with a discreet elbow to my gut.

  I deserved that. "So I assume you'll be leaving for Europe in the morning," I said, praying I'd removed all of the lipstick and desperately seeking a change of subject.

  "Never assume… it makes an ass out of you and me," she said as she stiffly moved to the music.

  "You're not going?" I asked, surprised. She was the Monarch of Europe. She would have to be there.

  "No."

  "Why?"

  "I don't see how that's any of your business," she snapped and purposely stomped on my foot.

  God, that was hot. "Everything you do is my business, Princess."

  "Since when?" she demanded.

  "Since I was balls deep inside you and you were screaming my name a couple of hours ago."

  "Oh my God," she hissed. "Your ego knows no bounds. We've been having meaningless sex for hundreds of years. You have no rights to me. You should find yourself a nice uncomplicated Vampyre mate and… "

  "Why haven't you mated?" I asked in a deadly quiet voice.

  "Heathcliff, I'm not going there." She blushed and tried again to pull away. "The subject is not up for discussion."

  "You brought it up, beautiful. Tell me why," I ground out.

  "Because I…" she stammered.

  Her avoidance of my question was a repeated thorn in my side—a thorn that had been imbedded and festering for centuries. My anger rose quickly and I wanted to hurt her.

  "It can't be because you haven't been asked," I whispered as I reminded her of a moment we shared in time, two hundred years ago. I ground my erection into her as she gasped and went soft in my arms.

  "Stop," she pleaded desperately. "We can never be."

  "Because it’s more fun to lead me on, play with my pathetic emotions, and then rip out my heart?"

  "Is that what you think?" she whispered.

  "It's what I know, Red. I'm good enough to fuck but not to mate. You made that abundantly clear a very long time ago." I knew my eyes had gone green with fury and desire. My grip on her body tightened and my need to take her was almost debilitating. Glutton for punishment didn't even come close to describing the new low I'd hit, but she made me weak and I hated her for it.

  "You know nothing of me," she hissed.

  "I know every inch of your body," I shot back.

  "That's just the shell. The part that matters will never be yours."

  She ripped herself from my arms and glared at me with rage and a tinge of what appeared to be sorrow. Her body shook and her cheeks blazed with color. She was magnificent. Did she regret saying no to me all those years ago? I laughed at my wishful thinking. She felt nothing and th
e sooner I accepted it the better off I would be.

  "My apologies," I said tonelessly as I gave her a formal bow and felt my chest clench in pain. "What we have had is now over. It should have been over a long time ago, but this lovely dance has truly ended it for me. I wish you the best with your life, Raquel."

  "Heathcliff, I…" She trembled and wrung her hands. Her expression went from unsure to resigned.

  I waited for more, but no more came. Time to cut my losses and maintain a semblance of pride.

  As I turned to walk away, her goons immediately replaced me. She glanced at me, then up at the skylights and nodded quickly. The red headed one I wanted to kill held her sagging body up as the European group exited the ballroom. He looked at me strangely and shook his head in disgust. The need to tear him apart was overwhelming, but I refrained. Ethan would be furious if I killed a guest at the party and I needed to let go of anything that had to do with Raquel. Forever.