Fashionably Dead Down Under

by Robyn Peterman

  His hands left my thighs, grasped my ass and raised me off the bed, giving him more open and vulnerable access to the parts of my body he was plundering. His fingers slid between the cheeks of my ass, pausing at the area I fondly called no man’s land. The pressure of his insistent fingers on the area he knew was off limits made me struggle helplessly as he held me tighter. Trying to get away from his fingers but closer to his mouth was impossible.

  “Ethan, don’t,” I said.

  “Am I hurting you?” he asked, glancing up at me with those damn eyes.

  “Um no, but I . . . well.”

  “How about this,” he suggested in a tone laced with sex. “I can promise you that I will make you feel so good you will pass out screaming. You can’t stop me unless it hurts. Hurts in a way that you don’t like,” he added with a smile on his face I was tempted to smack off.

  “I . . . ”

  “Say yes,” he whispered, tracing my clit with his thumb. “Say yes.”

  This was the man that took me to heights that were unimaginable. He was magic, power and sex and he scared the hell out of me in the best way possible. “Yes.”

  “Good girl. Such a good sexy girl.” His fangs scraped the inside of my thigh as his fingers found their way back to my bottom. I shuddered and closed my eyes as his teeth moved closer to my center. The sensations of his fangs teasing my clit while his fingers pressed into my ass made me whimper and moan. The thought of doing something I had always believed was forbidden added to the raging fire in my belly.

  Trying to stay still was impossible and my body found a rhythm that pleased itself. I was spiraling to a place I didn’t recognize. Ethan worked with Vampyre speed and I forgot what we had even talked about. I was one huge pulsing nerve open for him to use as he wanted.

  I screamed. I screamed so loud I was sure I could be heard in the Basement of Hell. I screamed as his fangs pierced into parts of me that I was sure were illegal and his fingers probed inside of me with expert knowledge of how to make a woman lose her mind. My body flailed and twisted, needing less and more as an orgasm of epic proportions ripped through me leaving me with no coherent thought whatsoever.

  “Oh my God,” I gasped in a hoarse voice as aftershocks rocked me.

  “That’s just the beginning,” he said, moving up my body and settling himself between my legs.

  He pushed only the head of his cock into me and held still as my orgasm pulsed on. He moaned as my body contracted around his and the muscles in his neck strained as he fought to hold out.

  “Fuck me,” I begged. “Fuck me hard.”

  His concentration snapped and he slammed into my body. As wet and softened as I was, I was still never prepared for his size. I cried out in pleasure and pain as he sheathed himself in me to the hilt. His mouth found my neck and his tongue drew small tight circles around my veins as my body found his rhythm and I met him thrust for thrust. The heat in my abdomen unfurled and shot through my limbs.

  The speed and intensity would have killed a mere mortal, but we weren’t mortal. We were Vampyres and I wanted more than just sex. I wanted blood.

  “Bite me,” I moaned as I grew closer to another orgasm. “Now,” I hissed as I tightened and clamped around him. He bit down and I cried out with what little voice I had left. The sheer electric force of all the things happening at once were too much. The pulse in his neck called to me and my fangs ached with need. I pressed my lips to his neck and bit.

  His shout of pleasure as he came rocked me into darkness. Little explosions of bright golden light burst behind my tightly closed eyes and his lips found mine. I kissed him as if my life depended on it and our tongues tangled and fought.

  With our bodies still merged as one, I held on tight. He showered my face and neck with kisses and I breathed him in. He was as essential to me as blood. I needed him to exist. I loved him with everything I had . . . and I knew he loved me too.

  “Was I right?” he asked smugly.

  “Um, yes . . . yes, you were,” I admitted. If I was still capable of blushing I’d be as red as my hair. “You just about killed me.” I giggled and buried my face in his strong neck.

  “Come with me,” he said, hopping out of the bed.

  “Where are we going?” I followed him out to the living room.

  “We’re going to christen every square inch of this house,” he informed me with an evil glint in his sparkling eyes.

  “Oh we are, are we?”

  “Yes, my love. We are.”

  And we did.

  Chapter 21

  “I’m sure the bastard cheated, but I can’t prove it,” Satan said as he picked at his breakfast.

  “You do realize that you just called Mister Rogers a bastard?” I laughed at the incongruity. My uncle was quite put out with losing and was even more displeased with the deal that had been struck.

  “It makes no sense,” he pouted. “I was cheating and he still won.”

  “Do ya think there might be a lesson there?” I asked and he rolled his mesmerizing eyes.

  “Absolutely not.”

  The dining room was massive and as overblown as the rest of the palace. With only three of us at the table the room felt positively cavernous. The table had to seat at least thirty. A buffet was laid out for a king—exotic fruits, homemade breads and jams, pancakes and waffles, muffins and an array of freshly squeezed juices. The maple syrup sat in a bowl of steaming water. The smells were divine and I wished for the umpteenth time I could still eat food.

  “I’d offer you some blood, but we don’t keep it on hand,” he said. “I assume from your rosy cheek color and the smell of sex you are both quite satisfied.”

  “Um, not that it’s any of your business,” I said, completely embarrassed. “But yes, we’re fine.”

  “So, first things first,” he said jovially. “You’ll be delighted to know Lust has been appropriately punished and humiliated. Would you like to know what I did?”

  “No,” I said at the same time Ethan said, “Yes.”

  “Two against one.” Satan laughed and clapped his hands. “I shall tell you. I do have to congratulate myself. It was quite a creative punishment and one she won’t forget anytime soon.”

  I really didn’t want to know, but Satan wanted to brag on his brilliance. I had no choice, but when the reality of what he’d done actually hit I was mortified. However, Ethan seemed quite pleased.

  “What did you just say?” I yelled. “You did what?”

  “Do you not understand English?” my uncle asked with a wolfish grin on his face. Ethan glanced down to hide his smile. I kicked him under the table and turned my furious gaze back on my uncle.

  “Tell me you’re joking,” I snapped.

  “Not even a little bit,” he replied. “Think about it, beautiful niece, it makes perfect sense. In order to hit someone where it will hurt, you must tap into their basest desires.”

  “But it was an invasion of my privacy.” I crossed my arms over my chest and narrowed my eyes at the Devil.

  “Your disrespect is so invigorating,” he shouted with glee.

  “So you put her in a cage outside of our guest house and made her listen to us have sex all night?” I was flabbergasted, grossed out and a tiny bit impressed with his evilness.

  “Yes, you are correct. And from everything I’ve heard it was quite vocal and completely out of control.” He winked at Ethan.

  “Oh my God,” I muttered and pressed my fingers to the bridge of my nose. Last night had been a loud one, even for me. “That is just sick.”

  “Yes, well, I am rather proud. She won’t be annoying you for a while.” He poured an obscene amount of syrup on his pancakes and dug in as if all was peachy keen in the world.

  Playing with the linen napkin, I did have to agree it was rather brilliant and the petty part of me enjoyed that she heard how good I actually was—Ethan had been very vocal during . . . Wait. This was fucked. Yesterday I put fifty Demons with questionable pasts out of their misery and t
hen caused a tornado in a poker room right after Mister Rogers may or may not have cheated during a round. Like that wasn’t enough . . . my evening of screaming sexual gymnastics with my mate ended up being a punishment for the slut who pushed me to the Basement of Hell. I. Needed. To. Go. Home. Now.

  “So, Vampyre,” Satan cooed condescendingly.

  “Yes, Uncle Fucker?” Ethan replied with a smirk his face.

  Satan winced and pressed his palms to his temples as I slapped my hand over my mouth to hold back the burst of laughter that threatened to escape.

  “Point taken,” Satan muttered, shaking his head. “Ethan, you do realize your time is limited down here.”

  “Satan, with all due respect, you’re wrong.” Ethan picked up a cup of coffee and took a sip. Damnit, he was old enough to drink stuff other than blood. I was insanely jealous. I dipped my finger in the syrup and touched it to my tongue. Oh hell no, it tasted like butt. My gag caused both sets of golden eyes to land on me.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled and shoved my hands under my thighs.

  “Anyhoo,” Satan continued, ignoring Ethan’s statement, “I’m quite sure I’m right, so you two will be under a bit of a time constraint to accomplish this little mission I have for you.”

  “You’re wrong,” I said.

  He blew out an exasperated sigh and shook his head sadly at us. “I don’t know where you’re getting your information from but I can . . . ”

  “Your mother.”

  Satan paled considerably and his eyes darted around the room in fear. “What are you talking about?” he whispered wildly. “Is she here?”

  “Nope, she’s doing Grandpa in Nirvana for a week or so.”

  “I’m sorry, what?” While my uncle’s color had come back his voice was still barely audible.

  “Grandma, who prefers Gigi, is doing the nasty with Grandpa this week. She stopped by the other day and we had a little chat.” I grinned at his discomfort.

  “You’re alive?”

  “Yep, even after I suggested she look into some meds.” I ignored his look of shock and folded my napkin into a swan with droopy wings. I had never been good at napkin animals.

  Satan was speechless. I was fairly sure this was a first for him and I had to admit I enjoyed it. He focused on his fruit and chewed as he thought. It was his turn so I waited.

  “Did you talk to her?” he asked Ethan.

  “Only at the end. She threatened to smite me.” He shuddered at the memory.

  Satan sighed in relief. “She threatens me with that all the time.”

  I blew out a frustrated sigh and slapped my hands down on the table. “Look, I’m tired of the bullshit and I want to go home. Gigi stopped time on Earth for me and there is no chance of Ethan dying. You, on the other hand, are in deep doodoo. Your mother is lonely and pissed. It would behoove you to visit her once in a while. You might curb her deadly tantrums if you showed a little respect or at the very least kissed her ass on a monthly basis. I’d recommend you get your pansy ass over to Nirvana. However, I wouldn’t go this week because like I said, I believe she and Gramps are going to be busy.”

  “Did you just call me a pansy ass and use the term doodoo?” Satan inquired looking flabbergasted.

  I thought for a moment about lying, but decided that wouldn’t really work. “Yes, I did.”

  “Would you promise to call God a pansy ass when he comes for lunch at the end of the week?”

  “Will that help my case?” I asked.

  “Yes, it would,” he answered with a huge smile pulling at his lips. “It would make me very happy indeed.”

  Grinning, I shook my head. I was dealing with two year olds who could destroy the world. Who fucking knew? “Fine. I’ll call God a pansy ass. Now I want to go home. Today.”

  “No can do, pretty one,” Satan said, digging back into his pancakes with gusto. Clearly my agreeing to call his brother a pansy ass brought his appetite back.

  “Should I call Gigi?” I asked politely.

  “No,” both Satan and Ethan yelled at the same time.

  I shot the evil eye at my mate. I’d been bluffing and he was screwing me up.

  “Sorry,” he muttered and went back to his coffee.

  “Listen, Uncle,” I said with saccharine sweetness. “I’m pregnant and you’re eating pancakes. This does not work for me. I would like to tear your head off right now, so start talking or I’m calling my grandma.”

  To say the Devil looked taken aback would be an understatement. “Fine. You win . . . this round. I have a little problem. The Sword of Death has gone missing and I need it back.”

  “Yes, and?” I said, knowing where we were going.

  “I can’t actually kill anyone to get it back and I need someone who can to find it and destroy the traitor who took it,” he stated logically as if I’d understand and agree.

  “So basically you want an assassin to go do your dirty work when you all were dumb enough to leave the damn thing in the Den of Iniquity.”

  “Yes, that sounds about right,” he agreed, speared a piece of pineapple and ate it. It was good he was eating pineapple. I was allergic to pineapple. If he’d eaten bacon I would have used a little magic voodoo and sewn his lips shut. Glancing around the table I realized there was no bacon or sausage or eggs in sight. He was a lucky man.

  “That is a tempting offer, but I’ll have to pass. I’m not a hired killer and neither is my mate.”

  “I beg to differ. You killed fifty Demons yesterday and seem quite fine today,” he said, watching me with curiosity.

  Looking down at my hands, I wanted to cry. Ethan tensed beside me and the room filled with his heavy-duty magic. I squeezed his hand to let him know I could handle it. There was no getting around the fact that I had created the magic that destroyed those men . . . I looked my uncle in the eye and let my tears fall without shame. “That was not for money. That was for honor.”

  “Yes, I believe it was.” Satan nodded and stood. Pacing back and forth he ran his hands through his hair.

  “Ethan, I want to go.”

  “Listen to what he has to say. I have a feeling it’s far more complicated that just finding a sword,” Ethan answered.

  “Nothing down here is what it seems.”

  “As is with most of life.” He gave me a brief smile and took my hand in his.

  “Are you two done?” Satan demanded impatiently.

  “For the moment,” Ethan said smoothly.

  “There’s a balance. Good and evil. The lines are constantly crossed and blurred. The Sword was created to destroy what can no longer distinguish the difference,” Satan said.

  “Its purpose is to kill a True Immortal?” I asked.

  “True Immortal?” Ethan asked.

  “There are seven True Immortals; myself, the pansy ass God, Mother Nature, The Angels of Light and Death, my father and the Woman. We cannot be killed by conventional means. We can either choose death and then use the Sword, or the Sword of Death can be plunged through our hearts three times and we would cease to be.”

  “I would assume that would be a difficult feat,” Ethan surmised.

  “Yes,” Satan agreed, “but not impossible.”

  “Grandpa said there are three empty spaces,” I lied, not wanted to reveal that I’d read that fact in the book. “Do those True Immortals exist yet?”

  Satan gave me an odd stare for a moment and then shrugged. “Possibly, but I’m not quite sure. No one is. It is something we are all trying to discover. The worry is that the new Immortals could tip the balance.”

  “And that would be bad.”

  “Very.” Satan’s pacing stopped and his hand went back to his hair. “Losing any one of the True Immortals would upset the balance. Those ramifications would not just be felt in Heaven and Hell . . . they would decimate your world as you know it. This is far bigger than a missing Sword.”

  “Why in the hell are we the only ones looking for it?” I was shocked. I would think everyone would be freaking
out . . . not eating pancakes and making lunch dates.

  “No one else knows yet,” he said and sat back down.

  “Your mother and father know,” I told him.

  “Yes.” He nodded wearily. “But God and the Angels don’t.”

  “What about the Woman?”

  He stared at the ceiling lost in thought for a moment and then rejoined us. “No one knows where she is.”

  Now there was a story I was sure I wouldn’t be privy to. “How do you know one of them didn’t take it?”

  “Because every time it’s gone missing, it’s some idiot in Hell trying to overthrow me.” He heaved a put upon sigh. “As much as I love deception and liars, it does get exhausting.”

  I rolled my head and tried to piece together what he had said and I realized it was a whole bunch of nothing. “Do you have any leads? I don’t even know the territory here. How do you expect us to find the damn thing?”

  “I know it’s in Hell. I can feel it and I am sure that someone very close to me is the culprit.”

  A chill tickled my spine and I hated Hell just a little more than I did seconds ago. He was asking me to destroy a Demon close to him or, God the pansy ass forbid, a family member.

  “No,” I said. “I won’t kill anyone that’s not trying to kill me or Ethan or . . . ” Shit. My reasoning didn’t hold up. I would kill someone trying to kill Dixie, Grandpa, Gigi, and even the Devil himself. Was it the pregnancy hormones or was I losing it?

  “It has very little to do with an individual life, Astrid. It has to do with the delicate balance of good and evil. Without it, none of us exist.”

  “So if we don’t get it back, the world will end,” I rolled my eyes and in frustration picked up my napkin again. I’d try for a simple fan this time.

  “I’m disappointed at your simplistic thinking,” he tsked. “Of course the world wouldn’t blow up and be over. It’s far more insidious than that. It would slowly morph into a place so filled with confusion and the inability to distinguish right and wrong, it would implode upon itself eventually. Most likely during the lifetime of your son.”

  That gave both Ethan and I huge pause, but how was I to be sure my uncle wasn’t lying? “I would think all that debauchery would make you happy,” I snapped.