A Fashionably Dead Christmas: Hot Damned Series, Book 5 (3 page)

“Me was… and then Gamma Gigi called,” Samuel explained as he tore across the room and jumped into my open arms. “She come and play tonight! And she say she got me big present.”

“No, baby. Gigi comes tomorrow—on Christmas day—like everyone else,” I told him as I cuddled my little man on the couch.

I kept my arms around him so he couldn’t dive bomb his still recovering father.

“Mommy, mommy, mommy,” Samuel said with a shake of his head so reminiscent of Ethan I had to giggle. “Gigi say she
change
her plans! Her and Uncle Devildude come
tonight
.”

I was no longer giggling. I was freaking.

Gigi, my grandmother, was better known to the world as Mother Nature—the most beautiful insane woman in the Universe. Her tantrums were legendary along with her pole dancing skills. And Uncle Devildude was Satan—both my uncle and a high maintenance pain in the ass. Yes, he was lovely to behold, but he was also a shifty troublemaker.

This couldn’t be happening. I still had presents to wrap—well, not wrap—I was less adept than Ethan was at that. Instead, I’d bought festive bags with semi-clad Santas on them from a naughty online site. I’d bought sweet bags too—for the more pious side of my family. I couldn’t imagine Uncle God or Cousin Jesus finding Santa’s butt cheeks amusing.

And I had to get food in for those that ate and the blood laced scotch for those who didn’t.

Shitshitshitshit. It would just figure the craziest part of my family would arrive early.

“Mother fu… bar… blobbityflonk,” I stuttered, swallowing the words I truly wanted to use.

These days Samuel was cursing like a sailor and I had no one to blame but myself… well and Pam… and very possibly the Baby Demons.

“Me will name my baboon—Blobbityflonk,” Samuel told me with a sly grin.

“Honey, I love you more than anything in the whole world, but you are not getting a goddaaaauurrn baboon for Christmas. Baboons need jungles to live in,” I said grateful for my second save of the afternoon.

“No prowblem,” Sammy said as he raised his chunky little arms in the air.

“No!” Ethan said sternly. He gingerly stood and gently placed Samuel’s arms back at his sides. “You cannot turn the Cressida House into a jungle. Vampyres like rooms with furniture and bedrooms.”

“Okay,” Samuel said, dejected by his father’s commands. “Me no make jungle.”

“Good boy,” I said as I hugged him tight. “Can you go play with Venus for a little while? I need to prepare for the rude mother fuckers who plan to arrive before they were invited.”

“Yes, Mommy. Should me change my clothes for the wude mother fuckers?” he asked seriously as he examined his Star Wars t-shirt and matching underoos.

I slapped my hand over my offensive mouth. Ethan just shook his head and winced. I was a potty-mouthed menace and should be punished. Only problem was, there was no time.

“Why don’t you simply put on some pants?” Ethan suggested. “That should be good enough.”

“Okay. Me can do that.” Samuel nodded as he scampered out of the room. He paused at the door. “Mommy do you need me underpants?”

“Um… no. Why?”

“Because you forget yours. Me saw your butt when me came in.”

Ethan’s bark of laughter made me want to knee his nuts all the way to his esophagus. The only thing that stopped me was my generous, underpants-sharing little boy who was still waiting for my answer. Plus I was sure it would be bad parenting to have him witness the castration of his father.

“It’s okay. I’m good,” I mumbled. “I’ve got plenty of underpants in my room.”

“Don’t worry, Mommy. Me forget to put on underpants sometimes too.”

“Thank you, baby. That makes me feel much better,” I said as Ethan tried unsuccessfully to hide his laughter. “Go play now. I’ll come get you when Gigi and Satan get here.”

He blew us a wet sloppy kiss and toddled off.

“I didn’t think this day could get any worse than bruised testicles and blue balls,” Ethan muttered. He was still grinning about my naked ass being busted by our son.

“Trust me it can… and it’s probably going to.”

I stood and reluctantly made my way upstairs to our bedroom. Going commando wasn’t working out like I thought it would anyway. Time to put on some big girl panties and pull them up.

Hell’s finest was due to arrive on my doorstep any minute now.

Chapter 3

“Ethan? What is this?” I called out as I stared at the mesh basket looking thingie that hung from the ceiling of my closet. It was attached to a thick elastic band and bounced as I tugged on it.

My closet was my sacred space. It was off limits to all but me, except Ethan was allowed in for Thursday night closet sex. It was stupidly huge—bigger than the living room of my old house. I freakin’ loved it. Occasionally, when Ethan was away on business killing stuff, I slept on the floor of my ostentatious Prada filled closet.

Initially, I felt guilty about indulging in such a lavish lifestyle, but I figured out a way to live with it. Vampyres were rich—rich beyond anyone’s wildest imagination. Apparently, the undead knew how to invest and the bastards were older than dirt.

If I had to take a guess, I’d have to say Vampyres owned fifty percent of the world’s properties—not to mention they hadn’t missed out on the technology boom or any other boom that had taken place in the last few hundred years. Most Vamps changed their name every eighty years or so and left their considerable and ever-growing fortunes to themselves.

Sooooo… in order to live with myself and all my new stuff, I cut a deal. The bargain made me quite unpopular in the bloodsucker community. However, being a True Immortal, and mated to the Prince of the North American territories, I had some pull.

And I didn’t give a rat’s ass if the snooty dead fuckers liked me or not.

I simply needed them to respect me or at the very least fear me.

Mostly, I had that base covered. I was half Demon-half Vampyre. I was related to Satan for God’s sake—and God too. My family tree was totally fucked up, but it afforded me an absurd amount of leeway.

Furthermore, I had enough power to take out a medium sized country without blinking an eye.

When I suggested to the undead of the world that all Vampyres with a net worth over ten billion donate half of their income to charity, I received death threats. The irony was an eye roller. Since no one seemed to be on-board except my friends and family, I went to an undead guy business summit and redecorated about ten Vamp owned properties—massive properties—all now permanently hot pink. Several I leveled to dust to make sure my argument was being heard. The only thing most Vampyres understood was violence, so I obliged them by demonstrating my own massive ability to wreck havoc. It only took four properties, a fleet of ships, and three now purple 747 airplanes to make my point.

I was insanely pleased with the results of my efforts, although it meant I’d had to watch my back constantly.

Even though I was almost impossible to kill, I liked my appendages and didn’t want to have to grow any back.

“Ethan, did you hang something ugly in my closet?” I called out again.

“What? Hell no,” he said as he warily entered my domain. “I never go within twenty feet of your closet. I value my life.”

“Then what is
that
?” I demanded as I yanked on the elastic band that the contraption was attached to. It bounced like a ball and made a weird squeaky sound.

“I have no clue,” he said as he examined it. “It looks like some sort of uncomfortable bobbing swing.”

“Motherhumpinshitballsonfire!
Incoming
,” an unwelcome and very familiar voice shrieked at ear shattering levels. The body belonging to the voice appeared in a rather violent cloud of glittering pink and silver smoke causing all to cough up part of a lung. “Merry Christmas, kids! It’s an Egyptian Fuck Basket, also known as the Tijuana Ball Busting Twist-o-Rama Fornication Machine!”

A bolt of royal blue lightning followed the alarming entrance and struck entirely too close for comfort. Adrenaline kicked in and I sprinted in terror right into my formerly neat pile of Prada and Chanel purses. I hit the wall with a loud thud.

“Son of a bitch, what did I tell you about making outdoor weather happen inside my house?” I shouted from beneath my overly protective and very heavy mate.

Ethan had thrown himself on top of me for my safety. Pulling a rather large Prada tote off of his head, he hissed with displeasure. He also looked like he wanted to kill something—mainly my grandmother.

“Can’t breathe here,” I grunted as I pushed on him.

“We’re Vampyre’s. We never breathe,” Ethan muttered as he rolled off of me.

“I believe you said it would force you to shove my favorite dancing pole up my ass,” Mother Nature said calmly as she slapped my mate on the ass. Then she stepped over the menagerie of fallen purses to test out her obscene gift. “Which, by the way, is a rude thing to say to your grandmother.”

“And you scaring the shit out of me isn’t?” I snapped.

My mate was eyeing the exit. That was not working for me. I didn’t want to be left alone with the crazy lady. However, she was my grandmother—not his.

“Darling, Vampyres don’t use the facilities—no interior plumbing. I don’t see what the biggie is,” she replied with a perplexed shake of her fiery red curls.

Mother Nature’s beauty was unparalleled. She knew it and enjoyed it immensely. Her eyes were the clearest blue I’d ever seen and her skin glowed—pale smooth porcelain. This evening she wore yards and yards of sparkling lavender tulle with a blue flowered trim that matched her eyes perfectly. Sapphires covered every conceivable place a jewel could fit. She was a gaudy, gorgeous masterpiece.

“True,” I muttered as I prayed for control. “So why exactly did you think I needed a hide-the-salami bucket?”

“Everyone needs a Boink Basket to keep the home fires burning,” she explained.

“Holy Hell,” Ethan grumbled. “The day just got worse.”

“I heard that young man,” Gigi hissed. She turned on him with narrowed eyes and hands on her hips.

Ethan just grinned and winked disrespectfully. My grandma ate it up and giggled like a school girl. His pretty face and fine ass kept him out of worlds of trouble.

Young was pushing it. My sexy Vamp was over five hundred years old, but I suppose age was relative when dealing with a nutty woman who’d been around since the beginning of time.

The smirk Ethan shot my way almost made me ask Gigi how to use the damn thing, but I wasn’t that much of a masochist.

“Wait,” I shouted.

Everyone froze.

“Did you know Nancy Regan was a Vampyre,” I asked my grandmother.

“Of course, dear,” she replied as if I’d just asked a ridiculous question. “You’d be surprised how many of you are out there.”

That was certainly something unsettling to chew on…

“Anyhoo, back to business. Astrid, you sit in it and Ethan will lie underneath—naked. Of course you need to twist the rubber band so you spin like a top. The result is positively orgasmic and mind blowing. However, I’d suggest Brazilians for both of you before attempting it. Trust me on that. Your grandfather, Bill, had a few painful issues after our first ride in one,” Gigi explained gleefully.

Clearly, no need to ask for directions.

“Sweet Hell on Earth,” a considerably paler Ethan said tightly, as he made his way out of my closet. “I’ll just check on Samuel.”

“He’s fine,” Gigi assured us. “He’s playing with his new baboon.”

“
What?
” I shouted. Sparks flew from my fingertips and burned a hole in the gorgeous red Stella McCartney sheath I’d been planning to wear Christmas Day.

Both Ethan and Mother Nature dove for cover. I silently stared at the smoldering tragedy. I was certain my lack of vitriolic swearing was what made them burrow even deeper into my sweater collection. Nonverbal communication wasn’t really in my repertoire and I was actually scaring myself. It had taken me a month of transporting between Paris and Milan before I’d found the perfect dress—and now it was toast… or toasted to be more accurate.

“I think I can fix it.” Mother Nature’s muffled whisper came from somewhere hidden beneath my shoe shelf.

“You sew?” I inquired tersely.

“Not exactly, but I’m good with a glue gun and sequins,” she offered.

For a moment I considered finding a paper bag and breathing into it to avoid the panic attack that was impending and then I remembered I didn’t breath—fucking awesome.

“You know what?” I said through clenched teeth. “It’s just a dress. I have other dresses. I’ll wear something else. We need to go save my son from the baboon. Now.”

“He’s harmless. I made sure of that,” Mother Nature promised. “The baboon I brought for Samuel wouldn’t hurt a fly.”