Fashionably Dead (Hot Damned Series, Book 1)

by Robyn Peterman

  “Gemma and Venus,” I said, “now that you’ve bonded over my pain and humiliation, we’re all going to be friends.”

  “Fine,” they said in unison.

  “Actually,” Venus volunteered, “I’ve researched you, Gemma, and I’m aware of your love of Prada. It seems equal to Astrid’s.” I cleared my throat and gave Venus the eyeball. “Mine too,” she giggled. “I may have a little something in here that might interest you... ”

  Venus dug through the bags, pulled out a beaded clutch and a black miniskirt from this season worth a small fortune and handed them to Gemma.

  “Oh. My. God,” Gemma gasped, grabbed Venus by her shoulders and laid a big wet one on her cheek. “I am deeply, irrevocably, and materialistically in love with you.” I watched her wheels turn. She got even more excited, if that was possible, “Venus, what was your favorite food?”

  Venus paused for a moment, surprised at the odd question, “Well, I’ve been a Vampyre for over two hundred years. When I was a mortal, food wasn’t very good.”

  When in the hell wasn’t food good? She caught our gazes and looked down.

  “I was a slave ... food was sparse.” She paused and regrouped. “But I do remember grapes. I had them once or twice and they were delicious.”

  Gemma and I sat in silence. My vision blurred as my eyes filled and I noticed Gemma’s nose turn red. Sure signs that we were about to cry.

  “Stop,” Venus said, putting her hand up, “it was a long time ago, and even though my human life was hell, I avenged myself and my brothers and sisters sufficiently. Trust me, those who treated me and mine like animals died like animals.”

  I supposed I was getting jaded about death. Possibly because I myself was dead, but I gotta say Venus’ story had a happy ending for me.

  “I want to do something for you,” Gemma said to Venus and then quickly left the room.

  “Is she okay?”

  “You bet,” I grinned. “She is going to blow your mind.” Venus looked alarmed. “In a good way,” I quickly added.

  Gemma came back to the den with both red and green grapes in a bowl, “Which ones do you remember?”

  “Is this a joke?” Venus growled. “You are aware I can’t taste any of that.” Her fangs descended and her eyes glowed green. I was glad I was seated between them. Gemma wouldn’t stand a chance against a two hundred year old Vampyre. Come to think of it, neither would I.

  “It’s not a joke. Which ones? Red or green?” Gemma asked without an ounce of fear or concern.

  “Red,” Venus said, trying to calm herself.

  Gemma popped a bunch of red grapes into her mouth, chewed and swallowed, “It works with Astrid,” she told Venus with her mouth full. “I’m guessing it will work with you too.” She popped a few more grapes into her mouth and wedged herself in next to Venus. She held out her wrist. “Drink.”

  Venus cautiously took her wrist, brought it to her lips and bit. Almost immediately her eyes grew wide and tears soon followed. She took several long swallows and reverently released Gemma’s wrist, closing the wound with her tongue. Venus dropped to her knees before Gemma and whispered, “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Gemma hugged her. “You can’t tell anyone. I don’t want a group of Vamps on my front porch with their favorite food in hand.”

  “You have my word,” Venus laughed, wiping her eyes. “By the way, you’re only a small percentage human.”

  “How do you know?” Gemma asked.

  “Your blood gives me an unusual rush. I feel more powerful.” Venus was awed even further by Gemma.

  “Do you know what she is?” I asked excitedly.

  “No, that’s not one of my gifts. The only Vampyre capable of definitively identifying species by blood is our King,” Venus said.

  “And he comes by... what? Every century or so?”

  “Pretty much,” Venus laughed.

  “You know what?” Gemma interjected, “I’m just getting used to the fact that I may not be what I thought I was. I’m not sure I’m ready to know what I am.”

  “Got it,” Venus said.

  “So,” I eyed the bags and boxes, “what are all those things for?”

  “Don’t you mean who are all those things for?” Venus teased.

  “Yes,” I said slowly, “that is what I meant, but I didn’t want to seem like a materialistic Prada whore.”

  “But you are a materialistic Prada whore,” Gemma chimed in. Venus grunted in agreement.

  “True,” I admitted, “but being one and copping to it are two entirely different things.”

  “They’re for you,” Venus happily informed me.

  Oh my God, somebody was screaming bloody murder. I whipped my head around to Gemma. Her mouth was closed. Venus? Mouth closed. Me? Not so much. Need to stop screaming now.

  “You done?” Venus asked, tentatively removing her hands from her ears.

  “Yes,” I answered, not quite sure if I was telling the truth. “Is there a reason for my windfall of Prada?”

  “Oh yes, my friend,” Venus answered, sounding serious. “I am here to formally invite you to the Cressida House in the Haven of Kentucky. You are to be inducted and accepted into the North American Dominion of Vampyres.”

  “What exactly does that mean? I thought I already belonged to the Cressida House.”

  “You do. This is your formal induction because the Prince will be here. Basically it means you get dressed up in really hot clothes and go to a great party.”

  “Cool,” I smiled, “do I get to keep the clothes?”

  “You bet,” she grinned and continued. “You will be presented to the Warrior Prince at the Congregant tomorrow night.”

  “What’s a Congregant?” Gemma asked.

  “It’s a trial,” I answered her. “Wait, tomorrow night?”

  “Yep,” Venus said to me and turned back to Gemma. “It is a trial, but it’s much more. At the Congregant Vampyres with grievances may bring them before the Warrior Prince to be mediated and those accused of crimes will be sentenced.”

  “To jail?” Gemma asked.

  “To death,” Venus replied.

  “Good God,” I butted in, “there’s no chance I’ll get sentenced to anything by trying to become a member of your club, is there?”

  “No,” Venus laughed and tossed me a garment bag.

  The three of us started flipping through the Prada as Venus got us up to speed on the bizarre world of Vampyre politics. The Warrior Prince would also be adding to his Elite Guard unit during the Congregant. This was one of the most prestigious positions a Vampyre could aspire to, especially one from the Cressida House.

  The Cressida House’s main function was to train Vampyres to protect the Warrior Prince and the Royal Family. The Elite Guard consisted of thirty Vampyres, but word had it they were going to increase the number to thirty-four, possibly because of the Rogue Vampyre activity. God, that reminded me, I had never told Venus about the Vampyres I saw in the graveyard. I was sure they were Rogues. If I told her, I’d have to explain too many other things that Pam and The Kev didn’t want me to share. Shit.

  “In order to join the Cressida House, a Vampyre must swear their loyalty to the Warrior Prince with a blood oath,” Venus said solemnly.

  “Wait,” I said, forgetting all about the Rogues and dropped a smokin’ hot strapless black Prada dress to the floor. “I thought a blood exchange between Vampyres meant they were mated.”

  Venus laughed and picked up the small fortune I’d so carelessly discarded, “No, you’re only mated if you drink from each other. A blood oath consists of slicing palms and grasping hands with the Warrior Prince.” She paused, thinking. “It is intimate, but it’s not even close to mating.”

  “Thank God,” I said, slipping on a pair of drop dead stilettos. “Do I look good enough to go to the ball and meet Prince Charming?”

  Gemma giggled, but Venus’ tone was serious, “Astrid, you cannot make light of the Warrior Prince. He is the most trust
ed and sacred leader we have. He is fair and kind and very ethical in a world where that’s very uncommon. It’s okay to be silly with me, but that’s as far as it can go. You can get in unspeakable trouble for talking ill of him. Soon you will love him and honor him as I do.”

  “So we just slice palms and high five?” I teased her.

  Venus rolled her eyes and nodded. “The Prince can drink directly from a subject during initiation. It would be considered an honor above all honors. It is very rare,” she continued, “and has never happened in the North American Dominion and probably never will.”

  “What if he did drink from someone?” Gemma asked.

  “Well,” Venus thought for a moment, “among other things they’d be halfway to a mating.”

  “How romantic,” Gemma gushed.

  I rolled my eyes, “So our Warrior Prince isn’t mated? Is he ugly?”

  “No,” Venus practically spit, “he is definitely not ugly. The farthest thing from it. He is beyond gorgeous and beyond unavailable according to one of his top guards.”

  “Oh, so he’s gay?”

  Venus choked. Gemma slammed her on the back.

  “Oh my God,” Venus gurgled, “he’s as straight as an arrow. His guards are male and female. The top aide I’m referring to is a female.”

  “He’s not mated to her?” I asked.

  “Nope, and she’s been guarding him for over a hundred years,” Venus gossiped.

  “Get. Out. Of. Town.” I laughed, “That man is one hundred percent available.”

  “What do you mean?” Gemma asked.

  “If he had wanted to mate with his security female, he already would have. I mean... my God, if I dated or schtupped a guy for over a hundred years without a commitment that would make me a pathetic loser!” I was on a roll. “I’d have kicked his ass to the curb after fifty years.”

  “Dude, you are so right,” Gemma agreed, slapped me a high five and hummed ‘Wanna be Startin’ Somethin’.

  “Venus, don’t leave me hangin’, baby,” I said as I put my hand up for her to slap.

  “You are one crazy Vampyre,” Venus laughed as she slapped me five.

  “But you love me, don’t you?” I challenged with a big, shit-eating grin on my face.

  “I do,” she laughed, shaking her head. “God help me, I do.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  You are H-O-T hot, I thought as I hung out in the Grand Foyer of the Cressida House, admiring my babysitter.

  “I’m sorry?” he said with a twinkle in his gorgeous blue eyes.

  Oh hell, did I say that out loud? Shit, shit, shit. I mean, he’s gorgeous, but I don’t want him to think I was checking him out... even though I was. That would be sexist and wrong and rude. God, what in the hell is wrong with me? He is not a piece of meat. He is a very nice, very handsome Vampyre guy who is showing me the ropes and he’s going to think I’m a crazy slut. I can’t believe I said the hot thing out loud.

  “Actually you didn’t,” he grinned. “One of my gifts is mind reading.”

  “Holy hell,” I gasped, mortified. “Did you hear all of that?”

  “Yes,” he laughed. “And thank you.”

  “Oh my God,” I pleaded. “Is there an off switch?”

  “Yes,” he said slowly, “but with where your mind seems to be going, I’m loath to tell you.”

  “Please?” I gave him a flirty smile. He returned the favor with a killer smile of his own. Were those dimples? Damn it, I loved dimples.

  “Alright, but there’s a price,” he teased.

  “What’s the price?” I asked, hoping it had something to do with my lips on his.

  “If you keep having thoughts like that,” he informed me, grabbing his chest as if his heart was breaking, “there’s no way I’ll let you close me out of your mind.”

  “Sorry,” I giggled. Damn, he was beautiful and sweet and silly with a fantastic ass and...

  “Enough! You’re killing me,” he grinned. “Close your eyes.”

  I did.

  “Now visualize heavy metal doors, similar to garage doors. Reach for them and slowly pull them down. When you have closed all the doors, visualize heavy metal locks and lock them.”

  I did.

  “Is that it?” I opened my eyes in surprise.

  “Yep,” he smiled, “that’s it.”

  “Is it working?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. Think of something wickedly sexual, something I would absolutely have to react to... and we’ll see.”

  Were all male Vampyres were perverts? I envisioned something very naked, very sweaty and very vocal between the beautiful Vampyre and myself. I watched him closely for a reaction. Nothing. Thank God.

  “What if I want you inside me?” I asked.

  “Oh my sweet, you only have to ask,” he said. His eyes turned green and he laughed.

  “Shit,” I blurted, “that came out totally wrong. I am so sorry. I didn’t mean inside... I mean, um, I meant my head. Inside my head.”

  “I know what you meant,” he sighed, “but a man can always hope.”

  If I could still blush, I’d be a tomato.

  “If you want me inside you,” he teased as I rolled my eyes in embarrassment, “just unlock the doors and open them.”

  “It’s that easy?” I asked.

  “It’s that easy,” he replied with another beautiful smile. “Now Astrid, do you know what to do when you go into the ballroom?” he asked, changing the subject.

  “Kind of,” I said, “but I’m at a loss.”

  “A loss?”

  “Yes,” I said slowly, “you know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

  He paused and stared at me for a long moment. “Do you promise not to laugh?” he asked, the twinkle back in his eyes.

  “With a set-up like that, I’m not sure,” I said, really liking this guy.

  “Would you like to guess?” he asked.

  “Rumplestiltskin?” I teased.

  “Nope.”

  “Herman?”

  “Definitely not,” he shot back. “It’s Heathcliff.”

  “Really?” I tried to stifle my giggles.

  “Really,” he smiled. “My mother was a huge Wuthering Heights fan, and also a good friend of Emily Bronte.”

  “My Nana loved Emily Bronte too. So you must be... ?”

  “One hundred and forty,” he answered, watching my face for a reaction. He got one.

  “Sorry,” I stammered, “it’s hard to wrap my head around that. You don’t look a day over thirty,” I added hastily.

  “In mortal years, I was twenty-seven when my father changed me.”

  That stopped me. “Your father?” I was astonished. “Vampyres can’t have children.”

  “It’s a long story. He fathered my sister and me when he was mortal. He and my mother were changed when we were babies. My mother didn’t make it. My father was devastated, but he raised us and loved us. He waited until my sister and I were in our twenties and then gave us the option. We took it.”

  “So your real biological family is still alive?” I was awestruck.

  “Yes,” he said with pride, “other than the Royal Family, we’re the only biological Vampyre family.”

  “Just don’t tell me your sister’s name is Catherine,” I joked.

  “Okay,” he said sheepishly, “I won’t.”

  “Get. Out. Of. Town.” I started laughing. “You’re kidding!”

  “Nope, it’s Catherine. She goes by Cathy... you can meet her later. And yes, we take a lot of crap about our names. She is one of the Elite Guard for the Warrior Prince, as am I.”

  “Where’s your dad?” I asked this one hundred and forty year old man who looked my age.

  “He’s the leading scholar of Vampyre History and resides with our King. I believe they’re in Italy at the moment. They’ll be visiting the North American Dominion within the month,” he said, taking my hand and leading me to a settee.

  “Astrid, when you enter the Grand
Ballroom,” Heathcliff coached, “keep your eyes downcast until the Warrior Prince speaks to you.”

  I was so glad he couldn’t read my mind, because that sounded like backward-ass feudal bullshit to me. Venus told me I had to behave, so behave I would.

  “Okay Astrid,” he said. God, he was dreamy. “Someone will be out for you shortly. I have to go in now.” He squeezed my hand and turned to leave.

  “Heathcliff,” I called after him.

  “Yes?”

  “Where do you live?” Hell, could I be more transparent?

  He stopped and smiled, clearly delighted with my question. “I live wherever the Warrior Prince lives, but we stay in Kentucky often.” He winked at me, turned and left.

  God, why couldn’t I have a boyfriend like that? I was sure I’d just embarrassed myself. There was no way someone who looked like that didn’t already have a girlfriend or ten or twenty.

  Why in the world were all the Vampyres so good looking? Everything about the Vampyre world was exquisite—the Vampyres themselves, their homes, their clothes, their asses. For God’s sake, there was another one at the top of the stairs. From this distance he looked like a Greek god come to life.

  The Cressida House might be gorgeous, but nowhere near as stunning as the Vampyre descending the Grand Staircase. God, this one may be better than Heathcliff. His name had to be Romeo or Fabio. He was the finest looking man I’d ever seen. Talk about hot, that guy could melt the polar icecap. He was so hot, he could melt panties... so hot that he could... wait. Holy hell, I knew him. Shit, shit, shit.

  It was Ethan. My heart bounced around in my chest like a Ping-Pong ball. He was headed my way, the crazy Rogue killer Vampyre I’d been fantasizing about day and night. How in the world did he look better than I remembered? That wasn’t fair. Whatever. It didn’t matter how good-looking he was. It couldn’t erase the fact that he tried to kill me.

  I frantically glanced around the foyer. Why wasn’t anyone around? If I ran he’d definitely notice and if I transported away, I’d probably be put to death by the Prince. Either way I end up deader than I already am. Shit, can’t I ever catch a break without being killed? Maybe he won’t see me if I stand really still. That’s stupid. Please God, let him walk right by and not notice that I’m standing next to the door that he’s moving toward. Please, please, please... damn.