Fashionably Dead and Wed Book 7

by Robyn Peterman

  The really bad part of me was hoping it was Mary-Larry. I was prepared to drop the comforter and converse buck-ass naked with her while Ethan lay on the bed with the sheet tented up like he was posing for a porno. I wouldn’t let Ethan remove her head because that was wrong. However, if she didn’t give up soon, I’d be very tempted to have a go at her noggin.

  Opening the door with a flourish and a very put out expression on my face, I was ready to rip Harry-Scary a new one only to be struck dumb by the nerdiest looking Angel I’d ever laid eyes on. He had curly red hair, a dad-body and a face full of freckles. WTF? It was midnight on a Sunday and I was in a guest room that was supposed to be empty. Who was this Heavenly dork looking for?

  “Who the Hell are you?” I snapped as surprised as he seemed to be.

  “Are you Astrid?” he asked, pushing his horn rimmed glasses up on his nose.

  “Maybe,” I answered cagily, wrapping the comforter tighter around my body. “Who’s looking for her?”

  “I’m Jeff,” he replied and put out a hand in greeting. “I’m here for your premarital counseling.”

  “Astrid’s not here,” I lied with a smile, refusing to accept his outstretched hand. “She’s on vacation until next year.”

  “Astrid, who’s at the door?” Ethan called out as he pulled his pants on and walked over.

  “Um…” I stuttered, totally busted. “It’s Jeff.”

  “Who the Hell is Jeff and why is he here in the middle of the night?” Ethan demanded as he opened the door wider and gave Jeff a vicious glare.

  I had a bad feeling we were not going to get a good grade on our counseling…

  “Hello,” Jeff said warmly with his hand still hanging mid-air. “You must be Ethan. It’s a pleasure to meet you both. I’m your premarital counselor. We’ll just get right down to it and be finished in a jiffy.”

  Jeff walked into the suite with a spring in his dorky step and tsked disapprovingly at the clothing littering the floor. He practically skipped over to the navy chenille couch and made himself comfortable. Pulling out a notebook and a thick folder from a briefcase that poofed from out of thin air, he waved us over to the two chairs facing him.

  “Tell you whatsy,” he said as he closed his eyes and bowed his head. “Why don’t you two lovebirds get dressed and we can begin?”

  Ethan and I stood open mouthed as Jeff hummed a little ditty and waited for us to obey his order. I’d never wanted to sigh in defeat as much as I wanted to right now.

  “We may as well get it over with,” I whispered to a befuddled Ethan as I quickly pulled my dress over my head and handed Ethan both pieces of his shirt.

  “You can’t be serious,” he said, tossing the ripped shirt back to the floor. “It’s the middle of the night. Jeff can come back at a decent hour for his interrogation.”

  “Actually,” Jeff chimed in happily with his eyes firmly shut. “It’s not an interrogation at all. It’s just a few thoughtful questions to make sure you two kids are ready to ball and chain it.”

  “Kids?” Ethan hissed under his breath.

  “Just go with it. Pissing off Uncle God is not on my to-do list. Please? I’ll make it worth it,” I promised with a weak smile.

  With a frustrated shake of his head, Ethan held out his hand and led me to the chair. “I really, really love you,” he said with a grimace. “This was definitely not on my to-do list.”

  “Are we ready?” Jeff sang as he opened one eye, making sure we were clothed.

  “No,” Ethan said grumpily. “You have a half hour to get this nonsense done. Am I clear?”

  “Yepperoonie!” Jeff said, clapping his hands together and spreading his paperwork all over the table. “Let’s start with how long you’ve know each other.”

  “A little over a year,” I replied tensely, hoping that was the right answer.

  Shitballs, what if we didn’t pass? My stomach roiled at the thought of failing the marriage test.

  “Very good,” Jeff congratulated me and wrote something down on his pad. “What about the family?”

  “What about them?” Ethan asked politely, clearly feeling my stress and trying to play nice with the Angel.

  “How do you feel about Astrid’s family?”

  And the silence was loaded—and long.

  “I’d like to pass on that one,” Ethan replied, looking to me for approval.

  I gave him a covert thumbs up and prayed that taking the fifth was allowed. I wasn’t even sure if I could say I liked my family and I certainly didn’t expect Ethan to.

  “Interesting,” Jeff commented as he scribbled away in his damned notebook.

  Shit.

  “Astrid, will you be taking Ethan’s last name or keeping your own?”

  I froze in terror. Fuckityfuckfuck. I didn’t even know Ethan’s last name. How in the fucking Hell did I not know my mate’s last name? We would certainly get a big fat hairy F for this one.

  “Well,” I choked out, gaping at Ethan for help.

  “I go by Ethan, Warrior Prince of the North American Dominion,” he supplied quickly with a helpless shrug.

  “Is that a joke?” I asked.

  “No, it’s not,” Ethan shot back indignantly. “Do you have a problem with it?”

  “Actually, yes I do,” I snapped. “Do you seriously expect me to call myself Astrid Warrior Prince of the North American Dominion? How in the Hell am I supposed to get anything monogramed with that kind of bullshit name?”

  “You will be Warrior Princess of the North American Dominion—not Prince,” Ethan corrected me thinking that would make it better.

  He couldn’t have been more wrong.

  “Dude, that’s not a last name. It’s a nightmare. That won’t even fit on a driver’s license,” I told him as my fingers began to spark. “That can’t possibly be your last name.”

  “I’m over five hundred years old,” he growled. “We didn’t have last names back then. We had titles.”

  “Then you can take my last name,” I said as I noticed Jeff’s head ping-ponging back and forth watching us with horrified interest.

  Again, shitshitshitfuckballshit.

  “Not happening,” Ethan stated firmly.

  “My, my, my, you’re certainly sexist,” Jeff said.

  “Are you hitting on me?” Ethan ground out as Jeff blanched and slid down the couch, closer to the door.

  “He said sexist, not sexy,” I informed my mate with a groan of mortification.

  “Sorry, my bad,” Ethan said with an annoyed shrug. “This is ridiculous. We shall do this another time—like never.”

  Jeff shuffled his papers and raised his bushy red brows in displeasure. Ethan and I sat silently and watched him contort his eyebrows for the better part of a minute. My stomach churned and I was fairly sure terror was written all over my face. As silly as this was, it was part of the process of getting married—at least I thought it was. I’d never been married before…

  “As difficult as this is, we must do it tonight. With the wedding taking place this coming Saturday we have to get it done,” Jeff informed us as he jotted a few more notes.

  “Back the fuck up,” I shouted. “What do you mean the wedding is this Saturday? No one told me that.”

  “I was informed it was Saturday,” Jeff said, pushing his glasses up on his nose and frantically searching through his paperwork for confirmation. “Yes! Here it is. You are to be married on Saturday in… wait. That can’t be right.”

  “What?” I yelled, wondering what other fresh Hell awaited me in the evil pile of paperwork.

  “It says you’re getting married in the Devil’s Den. This must be a mistake.” Jeff wrung his hands and pulled out a cell phone.

  “It’s correct.” I stopped Jeff before he called in an army of nerdy Angels to discuss the venue.

  “The Devil has a den?” Ethan demanded, totally over the entire thing. “I thought we were at least married in the damned Palace.”

  “We are,” I snapped. “Devil�
��s Den is just another name for Hell. Isn’t it?” I turned my attention to a very uncomfortable Jeff.

  He nodded, clearly too shocked to speak.

  “Listen,” I said as politely as I could, hoping we still had a chance to pass the ball and chain exam. “I cut a deal with Satan to close the portals that the douchecanoe Demons were pouring out of. My fist choice for the wedding was here at the Cressida House, but Satan is a crafty motherfucker so I had to agree to Hell.”

  “I see,” Jeff said primly with his fingers steepled piously.

  I was unsure if he was more offended by my colorful language or the fact I was tying the knot Down Under.

  “Why don’t we get back to the thoughtful questions?” I begged.

  I didn’t want Jeff here, but I really didn’t want him to leave. Failing was not an option.

  “I’ll take Ethan’s shitty last name. Okay? Will that raise our grade?” I asked Jeff with a smile that resembled a grimace.

  “No. I’ll take your last name,” Ethan volunteered.

  “You would?” I asked surprised, glancing over at the love of my life with total adoration.

  “Will it get me laid?” he inquired with a smirk.

  “It will get you so laid,” I promised.

  “About that,” Jeff cut in, clearing his throat loudly and turning an ungodly shade of purple. “That’s a big noperoonie. No-No.”

  “What is?” Ethan asked in a voice so low and menacing I considered scooting closer to the door.

  “S-E-X,” Jeff whispered and then glanced around warily as if he might get struck down by a bolt of lightning.

  He didn’t have to worry about lightning, I was about to smite his freckled ass through the roof.

  “Jeff, we’re already mated,” I said in what I prayed passed for a reasonable tone. However, I was pretty sure I might have been baring my fangs at him. “The wedding is more of a formality because I wanted a human ceremony. We already have a child.”

  “Yes, I saw that in the file,” Jeff said with disapproval heavy in his tone. “Which leads me to the next question. Are you using the rhythm method?”

  “We have good rhythm,” I replied carefully, not knowing what the Hell he was talking about.

  How did a celibate Angel know sex terms I didn’t? I wasn’t about to let the nerdy virgin fail me for not knowing how to screw. I knew how to do the nasty and I was good at it—or at least I knew how to enjoy it and made damn sure Ethan did too.

  “I mean sometimes it’s fast and sometimes it slow, but generally it’s very even. The beginning starts out a bit slower and then when we get close to the big O, it can get wild. Occasionally we break furniture, but not that often. Ethan is um… very… well endowed but that makes the rhythm much nicer and you know… bouncier. We don’t actually sing or anything, but we are noisy, y’know if that helps. Ethan says I’m a screamer and I’d have to concur with that one. Wouldn’t you agree, Ethan?”

  Ethan was an assbucket and no help at all as he was bent forward, laughing hysterically. Jeff had gone an even deeper shade of purple and was gulping for air. It was at that point I realized rhythm had an entirely different meaning than I’d assumed.

  Never fucking assume…

  “We’re done,” I ground out through clenched teeth, reeling with embarrassment. I still had no clue what rhythm meant, but at this point I really didn’t care. I wanted Jeff gone and I wanted to throat punch Ethan.

  “Rhythm is a form of birth control,” Jeff wheezed as he quickly shoved all of his paperwork back in his briefcase. “You should pick a form of birth control if you want to do family planning.”

  “I’m dead, you imbecile,” I shouted, kicking a still laughing Ethan. “I can’t get pregnant.”

  “Um…” Jeff scratched his head in confusion. “Did you adopt your child?”

  I paused and let his question sink in. Ethan stopped laughing and stared at Jeff in surprise.

  “No, it was prophecy—I’m the Chosen One. I shouldn’t have been able to have a child, but I did,” I told him.

  “I see,” Jeff said. “What’s to say you couldn’t get pregnant again?”

  “I don’t believe another child is in the prophecy,” Ethan said with a thoughtful expression.

  “Is the prophecy complete?” Jeff questioned logically. “Most are written in dead languages and difficult to decipher.”

  “Fine point. Well made,” Ethan said to Jeff who preened like a girl under my mate’s praise. “I’ll have to speak with my father.”

  “Whoa,” I cut into the love-fest. “I could get knocked up again?”

  I adored my baby with every fiber of my body, but being pregnant sucked.

  “I don’t know,” Jeff said. “But taking a precaution like rhythm, condoms or abstention would be wise if you’re not ready to expand your family.”

  Ethan’s loud groan let everyone know loud and clear his opinion on the matter.

  “Does rhythm work?” I inquired still not knowing how in the Hell to do it, but the other options weren’t very appealing.

  Jeff paused and thought for a long moment—too long. “The Catholics seem keen on the rhythm method,” he replied without making a lick of eye contact.

  Not really a good sign.

  “Nuff said,” I whispered, remembering all my Catholic buddies with enormous families.

  “Are we done yet?” Ethan asked rudely, clearly ready to physically punt Jeff from the compound.

  “Almost. Can I ask a question?” I inquired in a small voice as I felt my brain and emotions breakdancing inside my body.

  “Please do,” Jeff said warmly as he stood to leave.

  “Did we pass?”

  Jeff considered his answer carefully as Ethan and I sat forward in our chairs.

  “Kind of,” Jeff informed us with pursed lips. “As long as you wait until after you’re married to have relations, I can pass you.”

  “Just so I don’t fuck this up—no pun intended—by relations, you mean sex. Right?” I asked what I thought was a totally reasonable question since rhythm apparently had several definitions.

  “This is ludicrous,” Ethan snapped as his fangs dropped with displeasure. “We’re a mated Vampyre couple. We have sex daily.”

  “Several times a day,” I corrected him.

  Jeff’s slack mouthed reaction didn’t bode well. “Yes… well, you’re not married in the eyes of your Uncle God, so to pass, you have to abstain until Saturday. That shouldn’t be too hard.”

  “Pun intended?” I chimed in to a now very pale Jeff.

  “Absolutely not,” Jeff huffed. “Any other questions.”

  “Is dry humping cheating?” I mumbled, wanting to sink into the floor and die. Being that I was already dead, that wasn’t an option.

  “I will deny saying this,” Jeff replied cautiously as he glanced around the room searching for for cameras or spies. “But that’s fine.”

  I looked at Ethan and Ethan looked at me. He was not a happy camper and neither was I, but if we were going to do this… we were going to do it right. We could go without sex for five days. Hell, I was going to be so busy trying to pull a wedding out of my butt I wouldn’t even realize we weren’t playing hide the salami.

  Yeah… right.

  Chapter 9

  “Houston, we have a problem,” I said as I contemplated throwing a massive hissy fit.

  Jeff had poofed away in a blast of silver and white glitter and Ethan and I were left mulling over the new no-sex rule. Honestly, I was still secretly still trying to figure out how rhythm worked.

  “And what could that possibly be?” Ethan asked in a voice laced with sarcasm.

  “Don’t be a dick,” I snapped, desperately trying to find the positive. “It’s five days. Granted it’s going to be the five longest days of our lives, but just think how amazeballingly insane the sex will be on Saturday night after the wedding?”

  “Fine, Astrid,” Ethan said with a sad shake of his head and then perked up. “Do you think o
ral is off limits?”

  “Probably,” I said forlornly. “But I’ll ask.”

  “Who? Jeff?”

  “Who else would I ask?” I demanded, wanting to blast something in the room to smithereens.

  “Don’t bother. The question might kill him.”

  “True,” I agreed and burned a small hole in the carpet just to feel better.