Fashionably Dead (25 page)

“Jealousy is ugly,” I told her calmly. My plan was to set her up, piss her off, let her pound on me and be done with it. I would not fight back.

“You bitch,” she screamed, attacking and knocking me to the ground. One of her hands was around my throat and the other was slapping me viciously across the face. “Fight me,” she growled. “Damn you . . . fight me,” she begged.

She was crazed and desperate. I could feel blood dripping from my lip and my eye was swelling shut. God, that hurt. I looked into her eyes. She needed to fight me more than I needed to not hurt her. Fine. She wanted a piece of me? A piece of me she would get.

I turned over and flipped her off of me. I flicked my fingers and sent her flying across the room at about fifty miles an hour. She hit a huge stack of chairs. It sounded like a bomb going off, echoing ominously throughout the room. I was sure that couldn’t have felt good, but she was right back up and coming at me like a runaway freight train. She was so angry, it made her sloppy. I sidestepped her and gut punched her at the same time. It was a little difficult to see with one eye swollen shut and the other on the way there, but I hit my target. Hard.

She roared in frustration and pulled two very sharp, curved daggers from her belt. I was assuming they were steel and not silver. We weren’t allowed to use silver during practice, but who the hell knew with Cathy? Silver was extremely painful for us, and of course deadly if run through the heart. I could stick steel or wood or copper straight through my heart over and over and not die, but silver . . . not so much. I quickly protected myself. I touched my hands to my chest and a glittery breeze shot out all around me, shielding me from all weapons including bullets. I heard Heathcliff gasp. I caught his eye for a moment and he stared at me in awe.

Cathy screamed and threw down her weapons. “What, you can’t fight the normal way, you whore?”

She did not just call me a whore. I was a lot of things, but a whore was not one of them.

She was on my last nerve. I needed to take her ass down before my other eye swelled shut. I released the protection wall around me with a flick of my fingers. I did an aerial cartwheel right into her and scissor-kicked her in the head, taking her down to the floor before she even knew I moved.

I pinned her face down on the mat. I held her arms twisted behind her back and I dug my knees viciously into her hamstrings. As she screamed in agony I leaned down and head-butted her.
Shit, that hurt
. Whatever. It made her shut up.

I leaned over and whispered to her, “I am not a whore. Maybe a bitch, but definitely not a whore. I would suggest you remember that in the future,
Cathy
.”

She tried to spit at me, but missed. “You’ll kill him.” She was crying.

“What are you talking about?” I hissed. She was starting to piss me off.

“If you mate with him, you’ll kill him.”

“Yeah, I heard that part,” I barked. “What in the hell are you talking about?”

“You’re the Chosen One,” she grunted. “Vampyres and Demons and God knows what else will try to kill you for the rest of eternity.”

“So what?” I yelled, twisting her arms tighter and pulling her shoulder out of the socket.

Whoops.

“If you mate with Ethan and you die, he does too, you stupid, selfish bitch,” she gasped in hellish pain.

That stopped me. I let go of her and kicked her torn and battered body away from me. Why hadn’t anybody told me that? That couldn’t be right.

I slowly turned to Heathcliff. “Is that true?” I asked so calmly that I scared the hell out of everyone. I couldn’t see him clearly through the swelling and the blood. I had split my scalp open when I head-butted Cathy and blood was running down my swollen face. This was definitely not my best look.

“Is it?” I yelled.

“Yes,” Heathcliff said, “it is.”

“Why in the hell do you people have so many goddamn stupid rules?”

Heathcliff looked down at the floor along with the rest of the Vamps in the room.

Well, my little Demons had been correct . . . this had turned out to be a clusterfuck of a day.

Chapter 23

I vaguely recalled Heathcliff carrying me to Venus’ room. I knew I had collapsed, what with the blood loss and all my new stress. Venus helped me undress and bathed me. I was too tired and too weak, plus one of my eyes was still swollen shut.

Venus’ room was cozy and inviting. She favored shabby chic—big overstuffed furniture in soft cottons and fuzzy chenilles mixed with thick crushed velvets. The patterns were faded cabbage roses in peaches and pale pinks mixed up with equally faded tulips and daisies in lavenders and periwinkles. Her walls were a pale celery green covered in crazy cool folk art and Aboriginal Dream art. None of it went together individually, but together it was perfect. Just like Venus.

The gashes on my head and lip had closed and were healing, but I was covered in dried blood and bruises. Venus washed my hair in lemon-scented shampoo and filled the tub with hot water and bubbles. It smelled like heaven. She was so gentle. I felt like a baby, a very happy and well-loved baby.

“Astrid,” Venus asked, “do you want to stay in the tub?” She had drained out the dirty, bloody water and was refilling it with hot, lemony-smelling suds.

“I’ll stay in here forever,” I told her, sinking lower in the bubbles. She giggled and put an ice pack over my eyes. The swelling was going down. I could tell because I could see out of them now.

“Is Cathy okay?” I asked.

“Physically she’ll be fine. Mentally, it’s anybody’s guess,” Venus snorted in disgust.

“Is this all about Ethan?” I wondered aloud, taking the ice pack off and sinking even lower in the tub.

“It can’t be,” Venus shrugged and handed me a big bottle of blood. “Compliments of Gemma,” she smiled. “Chips and extra hot salsa!”

“Yesss.” I gulped it like a starving person, dribbling some down my chin in my haste. I loved my friends.

“Anyhoo, Miss Manners . . . ” Venus chided, wiping the blood from my face with a washcloth as I sighed happily. “From what I recently heard, Cathy and Ethan have not been . . . well, you know . . . intimate in about twenty years. Knowing they were not meant to be mates, he ended it and encouraged Cathy to look for her true mate.”

“And?” I asked.

“Clearly she hasn’t done that yet,” Venus laughed and ran a brush through my hair.

“Heathcliff thinks they still sleep together,” I told her.

“Heathcliff wants you, Astrid,” she shot back.

“Did,” I said firmly. “Not anymore.” Venus raised her eyebrows and finished cleaning my poor battered face. “So if it’s not about Ethan, why does Cathy hate me so much?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe she’s still hung up on him,” Venus offered. “Come on, let’s get you dressed.”

Wrapped in a fluffy towel, I followed her to her room and collapsed on her bed.

“Look, after what I found out today . . . ” I paused and carefully considered what I was about to say. “I don’t think I should mate with Ethan. Ever. I had no idea so much was at stake.”

“Don’t you think that’s something you should discuss with me, Angel?” Ethan asked, leaning against the doorframe of Venus’ bedroom.

“Holy hell,” I screamed. Curling into a tight ball on Venus’ bed I held my towel firmly in place. “Oh my God, do you
ever
knock?” I yelled at him.

Venus looked down and tried to hide her grin. She still couldn’t get over the way I spoke to her Prince.

Ethan smiled and tilted his head to one side, making me want to slap him . . . then screw him. “Door was open,” he grinned. “Venus, would you mind giving us a moment, please?”

“Not at all, my Liege.” Venus winked at me as she left.

“I’m naked,” I informed him.

“Interesting.”

“You have to leave so I can get dressed.”

“No.”

“No?” I repeated, narrowing my eyes at him.

“No.” His eyes changed to a beautiful emerald green and I could feel mine doing the same. “You are breathtaking,” he said.

“I’m a bloody bruised mess,” I retorted. God, he made me a nervous wreck.

“No,” he disagreed, “you are the most beautiful woman in the world.”

“Well, that’s lovely and all, but I’m still naked and you still have to leave,” I told him, reaching for the corner of Venus’ quilt to ensure more coverage.

“It seems we’re at an impasse.” He sat on the edge of the bed, making my quilt grab unsuccessful. “How about a compromise?” he suggested.

“Last time I agreed to some vague idea of yours I ended up halfway Vampyre-married to you,” I snapped and attempted to move away. Of course, the almost boob-reveal kept me anchored to my spot.

He threw back his head and laughed, and I swear to God I contemplated a strip tease and a lap dance. Damn it, he didn’t play fair. How in the hell was I going to get out of here without offering myself up on a platter to him?

“How about you let me dress you?”

I considered his suggestion. Could I make this work to my advantage? Probably not, but it did sound intriguing.

“Will you keep your clothes on?” I asked, kind of hoping he’d say no.

“Of course, and I won’t touch your skin at all . . . unless you ask me to,” he replied smoothly.

While the thought was appealing, the reality was alarming. The minute his hands came close to my girlie parts I knew I would beg. He was such an egotistical pig. I wanted to make him suffer.

“No,” I said. “That doesn’t work for me, but I suppose you could watch me dress. You can look, but you can’t touch.”

His smile was positively feral and I shivered. God, how stupid was I?

“That sounds delightful, Angel. Shall I pick out an outfit?” he asked

“Um . . . yes.” Clearly I was really, really stupid. “Wait, this is Venus’ room. I don’t have any clothes in here. Shit.”

“Oh, but you do,” he informed me, going through a pile of clothes on the chair.

“Where did those come from?” I asked, eyeing the pile suspiciously.

“My little Angel, you may not live here yet, but I am quite prepared for you when you do come to me.” He grinned and pulled out the sexiest and most obscene panties I’d ever seen. He coupled them with a drop dead Prada halter dress and thigh-high stockings.

“Fine,” I said, calling his bluff. “Leave them on the edge of the bed and go to the other side of the room.”

“As you wish.”

Damn it, I could do this. I would give him a case of blue balls that would make him double over in pain. I’d make him pay.

I got off the bed slowly and smiled, letting the towel fall to my feet. His sharp intake of breath made me giddy. I had never been so brazen in my life . . . or death, for that matter. Ethan shoved his hands into his pockets and I enjoyed watching him try to stay put. Locking my eyes with his, I ran my hands over my breasts and down to my hips. His eyes were blazing and his fangs descended, as did mine. I was enjoying torturing him. Unfortunately, I was also torturing myself. This was beginning to seem like a very bad idea.

I reached down and grabbed the scrap of silk he considered underwear. Moving in slow motion I bent over and stepped into them, making sure he had a very fine view of my entire backside. He groaned and dropped into a chair. He gripped the arms so tightly his knuckles were white. Damn, this was fun.

“You’re a tease,” he said, grinning from ear to ear.

“Honey, I’m just getting started,” I purred, sliding the panties up my legs.

“Call me that again,” he said gruffly, coming partly out of the chair. The tension in the room was thick and I was beginning to think I was in way over my head. I could feel the dampness between my legs and my breasts felt heavy and swollen under his gaze.

“Call you what?” I asked, settling the barely-there panties to their correct spot with shaking hands.

“Say ‘Honey’ again.”

“Really?”

“Really. You’ve never called me anything sweet before. I like it,” he replied and stood.

“Honey, sweetie, snookums, sex-pot, if you take a step closer, you’ll be breaking the rules,” I said, grabbing the halter dress and quickly stepping into it.

“What’s the punishment if I lose?” he asked, advancing on me.

“Um . . . well shit,” I screeched as I got my foot caught in the hem of my dress and I tripped forward into a set of very strong arms. “This wasn’t part of the plan,” I muttered and tried to twist away.

His hands on my bare skin ignited a fire down below. My naked breasts were pressed against his chest and my head was spinning. One hand slid down to my ass and neatly ripped away the sorry excuse for underwear he had chosen. If I could have found my voice, I would have yelled
Fuck me
. . . thank God my ability to speak had taken a vacation. His fingers continued their exploration to the area between my legs that made my knees buckle. He hissed as he felt how wet I was and reached further, immediately finding the spot that made me go partially blind. His long fingers expertly massaged me in circular motions. I cried out and writhed against him.