Fashionably Dead and Loving It: Hot Damned Book 14

by Peterman , Robyn

  Fashionably Dead and Loving It

  Hot Damned Book 14

  Robyn Peterman

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  Copyright © 2020 by Robyn Peterman

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is coincidental.

  This book contains content that may not be suitable for young readers 17 and under.

  Cover design by Dreams2Media

  Edited by Kelli Collins

  Contents

  Books In The Hot Damned Series

  What Others Are Saying

  Acknowledgments

  Book Blurb

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Epilogue

  Robyn’s Book List

  Note From The Author

  About Robyn Peterman

  Books In The Hot Damned Series

  Fashionably Dead

  Fashionably Dead Down Under

  Hell On Heels

  Fashionably Dead In Diapers

  A Fashionably Dead Christmas

  Fashionably Hotter Than Hell

  Fashionably Dead And Wed

  Fashionably Fanged

  Fashionably Flawed

  A Fashionably Dead Diary

  Fashionably Forever After

  Fashionably Fabulous

  A Fashionable Fiasco

  Fashionably Fooled

  Fashionably Dead and Loving It

  HIT HERE FOR THE WEBSITE PAGE WITH ALL THE BOOKS!

  What Others Are Saying

  “The Hot Damned Series is uproariously witty, deliciously provocative, and just plain fun! No one delivers side-splitting humor and mouth-watering sensuality like Robyn Peterman. This is entertainment at its absolute finest!”

  ~ DARYNDA JONES, NY Times Bestselling Author of the Charley Davidson Series

  Acknowledgments

  Writing The Hot Damned Series is like coming home. All of the characters live inside my head and talk constantly. I love all of them, but Astrid is one of my besties. She is actually the first heroine I ever wrote and she means the world to me.

  My hope is that you enjoy reading Fashionably Dead and Loving It as much as I loved writing it. Each book I write is like giving birth to another beautiful baby. This baby happens to be naughty and full of delightful and ridiculous fun.

  Anyhoo, as always, I write the book, but it takes a whole lot of wonderful people to make the magic happen. I am a lucky girl because I have a lot of wonderful people in my life.

  Kelli, you are the BOMB of all editors. So happy you are in my life.

  Rebecca, thank you for my beautiful cover. You are fabu!

  My Cookie, thank you from the bottom of my heart. You saved me from some embarrassing mistakes. When we meet again, I will kiss your butt for real. LOL

  Renee George, thank you. You are the most brilliant critique partner in the world! I don’t know what I would do without you. TMB.

  My Magic Wanda, you kick ass on a daily basis. I’d be screwed without you. Thank you.

  My beta readers—Wanda, Heather and Susan thank you. I adore you.

  And to my readers… thank you. I do this for you.

  Steve, Henry and Audrey, thank you. I love you and you make everything worth it.

  Dedication

  For Astrid.

  You are the first heroine I ever wrote. You gave me confidence. I will keep you.

  Book Blurb

  Fashionably Dead and Loving It

  Being an undead Princess comes with baggage. And unfortunately, it’s not Prada.

  Getting shredded in the Daily Fang, The Bloody Times and The National Dhampir is par for the course in the life of a royal Vampyre—especially mine. However, that’s nothing compared to the sh%tshow unfolding in my life.

  My nightmares are coming true.

  Satan is throwing fits about changing diapers.

  The Baby Demons are full of cryptic messages.

  Martha and Jane have a sphincter obsession.

  There’s a half-naked Demon in my closet with a mouth as foul as mine.

  On top of all that, we’re hosting Demon-hating royal houseguests.

  Oh, and did I mention the Vampyre-eating-Zombies on the west coast?

  With Ethan by my side, along with new friends and a few well-hidden enemies, it’s time to adjust my crown, put a few Vampyres in their place, and kick some Zombie butt.

  I’m dead.

  Life is still good.

  I have unconditional love.

  And on most days, when I’m not covered in Zombie guts, I’m wildly fashionable.

  Fashionably dead, that is, and loving it.

  Chapter One

  If I had a heartbeat, it would be hammering out of my chest.

  I didn’t have a heartbeat.

  I was dead—or rather, undead.

  And I was terrified.

  Why? No clue.

  I was stronger and more powerful than everyone gathered. I was the Chosen One. I didn’t ask for the job. I was unwillingly saddled with it. Hell, I didn’t even ask to get turned into a Vampyre. My attempt to quit smoking hadn’t gone quite as planned. It had killed me. Literally. It wasn’t all that bad—I hadn’t smoked since the day I died—it was just a bit unusual as far as methods went. For the most part, being deceased was fabulous. I was mated to Ethan, the love of my undead life, and had an extended family that included Satan, God and Mother Nature.

  The biggest gift was my son Samuel. He was the light of my and Ethan’s world.

  But the Chosen One title… that came with some hairy fucking baggage.

  According to the sacred Vampyre Scrolls, the Chosen One would eventually come along and be a leader amongst the undead. They’d been waiting a long while, considering Vampyres had existed since the dawn of time. The Chosen One would embody impossibility becoming reality. As the story went, she would give birth to a child, which was inconceivable for the undead, and she would be beloved by Angels and Fairies. She could also control Demons. The Chosen One was the light who lived in the dark. The darkness was her Vampyre and Demon heritage, and the light was her blood compatibility with Angels and Fairies.

  For better or worse, I checked all the boxes. I was a killing machine with compassion, and I’d blown out a beautiful baby with immeasurable powers. It made me a target for most of the creatures that nightmares were made of.

  That part royally sucked.

  But right now, reality sucked.

  “Do I look okay?” I asked, standing in the wings of the enormous auditorium awaiting my turn.

  “You look gorgeous,” Nana assured me with a smile that made me a tiny bit calmer. “As always, my darling.”

  I was so freaking relieved Nana was here. She’d been far more of a mother to me than my own mother, and
I adored my grandmother with every fiber of my being. Nana was beautiful inside and out.

  Peeking out at the assembled crowd, I wrinkled my nose in confusion. Color me surprised that I didn’t recognize a single pompous asshole at the Royal Court Consortium, but there were a lot of uppity Vamps in the world. It did seem a little odd, but I was about to walk out onto the stage, and I didn’t have time to pick apart the particulars.

  “Oh dear,” Nana said, wringing her hands. “You’ve forgotten your crown.”

  My stomach cramped. “I have a crown?” I asked. “I didn’t even know I had a fucking crown.”

  Nana patted my back and sighed. “Astrid, all princesses have crowns. Ethan is the Vampyre Prince of the North American Dominion, and you are his Princess. You should wear your crown at all times.”

  “Even when I sleep?” I asked, beginning to sweat. How in the hell was I sweating? I didn’t own bodily functions anymore. It had to be the stress of the bullshit about to unfold.

  Nana nodded. “Yes, darling, even when you sleep. Your crown will protect you from the dark evil headed your way.”

  “Umm… could you be a little more specific?” I asked, wanting to poof out of the arena and back home.

  Poofing posed a problem. I wasn’t sure exactly where I was at the moment. Maybe I was home. However, there was no stage at the Cressida House. There was a Grand Ballroom, but I would’ve recognized that. Of course, a stage could have been built, but I would think I would have heard the construction going on. As a Vampyre, I could hear a damn pin drop a mile away. I definitely would have known if we’d built a massive extension onto our already enormous compound.

  “Don’t worry,” Nana said. “You’ll be fine. Just make lots of friends, don’t swear too much and remember to get your homework in on time. You don’t want to fail. It would look dreadful on your transcript.”

  “I’m sorry, what?” I asked, wondering if Nana had tossed back a few glasses of wine. She was making no sense. I wasn’t in school. I was about to address a buttload of Vampyres who didn’t like me much.

  A few years back, I’d insisted the undead start paying taxes. Most of them had amassed ridiculously large fortunes over the centuries and hadn’t paid one cent toward the human world we lived in. I called bullshit. It hadn’t made me very popular, but it was the right thing to do. I had Ethan’s backing and his father the King’s support as well. Plus, if any undead idiot wanted to take me on, I’d hand them their ass on a silver platter.

  Even though all magical species were unknown to humans, it didn’t mean we shouldn’t try to make the freaking world a better place. We lived forever. It was the ethical and honorable way to go. Of course, the law was despised by many of the undead, but I wasn’t running for Miss Congeniality.

  “Did you memorize your song?” Nana asked, gently tucking my wild dark hair behind my ears and pinching my cheeks to give me a bit of color.

  “Are you shitting me?” I choked out. “I have to sing? No one told me I have to sing. I can’t sing a fucking note.”

  “Everyone can sing,” Nana promised.

  “They can?” I asked, doubting her wisdom. She’d clearly forgotten that I’d been asked to silently move my lips at the second grade Spring Jubilee because my warbling made the entire class cry.

  Nana nodded and handed me a large feathered fan. It was about four feet wide and just as tall. It was embedded with fist-sized, blood-red rubies that matched the streaks in my hair. The fan was surprisingly light for its size.

  “Use this, Astrid,” Nana insisted, pushing me out onto the stage. “It will cover your nudity.”

  “My WHAT?” I screeched as I tripped out onto the very well-lit stage to gasps and laughter from the thousands in attendance.

  Why I had chosen fifteen-inch Prada heels was beyond me. I didn’t even realize Prada made fifteen-inch-high stilettos. They should really stop doing that. The shoes were almost impossible to walk in. While I was a sucker for fashion, I’d apparently chosen my footwear very poorly today.

  Not to mention, I’d forgotten about the rest of my outfit.

  “Who did I fuck over in a former life for this to be happening?” I hissed as I quickly adjusted the fan to cover my bits that should not be on display.

  Glancing around wildly for Ethan, I spotted him in the front row giving me a thumbs up. Why was he in the front row and not up on the stage with me? And why was he wearing sweatpants? It was a formal affair, and my man always wore Armani. I had little room to talk, being naked and all, but Ethan was the dang Prince. Even stranger, Satan was sitting on his lap eating popcorn. They didn’t like each other. Satan was forever pilfering Ethan’s office supplies. They only tolerated each other because of me.

  But the most alarming visual was Martha and Jane. The two profane, mostly bald, undead idiots were seated to the left of Ethan wearing the latest Prada haute couture. Considering they usually wore boob tubes and booty shorts, I didn’t know what the hell to think.

  “You can do it, Astrid,” Mother Nature shouted, hanging from a giant crystal chandelier about three hundred feet off the ground. “I believe in you, and I baked you a cake!”

  While the sentiment was lovely, Mother Nature couldn’t cook to save her life. She was also a certified nut job, and she was naked. Maybe I wasn’t underdressed. Whatever. It was too late to do anything about it. Marching to the ornate throne in the middle of the stage, I seated myself and kept my fan placed strategically in front of me.

  The chanting started softly and grew louder. It was horrifying. The stage went from stifling hot to frigid as the yelling reached a fever pitch.

  “Sing, sing, sing,” the Vampyres bellowed.

  This was a fucking nightmare. I was naked. I was wearing horrible shoes. And even though Nana had said everyone could sing, I knew she was gravely mistaken.

  Satan had fallen asleep in Ethan’s arms, and my mate carefully carried my uncle to a massive coffin that appeared from out of nowhere in the audience. The coffin caught fire the moment the Devil’s body was placed in it. Under normal circumstances, that would alarm me, but Uncle Fucker adored the flames. He slept right through it.

  Besides, the circumstances were anything but normal…

  Finally, the blaze abated and Satan snored so loudly the sound could wake the dead. The irony was we were all already dead. And sadly, no one was sleeping. They were all staring at me and chattering away.

  “Silence,” I shouted over the noise. “Uncle Fucker is taking a nap. It would be rude to wake him.”

  To my shock and relief, the massive crowd quieted.

  Now what?

  “Umm… I’m honored to be here,” I started, only to realize that I hadn’t written a speech for the occasion. I’d simply pull one out of my ass. Singing was out of the question. “I… umm… well…”

  “Tell a joke,” someone shouted from the back.

  I was seconds away from poofing the hell out of the place when I realized my bare ass was stuck to the throne. I’d either sat in superglue or someone was screwing with me. I don’t sing and I don’t tell jokes. I had no speech prepared. I wasn’t even sure why I was here. The way Ethan was cooing and fussing over Satan, I’d say I had some marital issues. On top of that, my Nana had allowed me to walk out onto the stage buck-ass naked.

  The boos and hisses started and I could see no way out. Mother Nature had fallen from the chandelier with a sickening thud and ripped her left leg right off of her body. She was now hopping around passing out cake to the crowd—naked with one leg. Thankfully, only very old Vampyres could ingest anything other than blood. However, the room was apparently full of ancient bloodsuckers. They were eating the cake like there was no tomorrow. The sheer amount of food poisoning that was about to occur made me want to laugh then exit quickly to avoid the vomit-fest.

  However, my ass was still one with the throne. I could blow up buildings, but I couldn’t peel my bare butt from the fuzzy red velvet.

  Fuck.

  Jokes it would b
e. It was better than having to live down singing—live being a relative word.

  “So, as I was saying,” I continued, shouting above the murmured praise for the cake that was going to make them ill very shortly. “It is an honor to be here. I’d like to start with a few jokes. What do you get when you cross a Vampyre with a snowman?”

  No one said a word. But no one heckled me either. I considered it a win.

  “Frostbite!” I announced, waving to the crowd with a princess-y wave I’d remembered Princess Diana giving on TV.

  “You SUCK,” some undead asshat shouted.

  So much for no heckling.

  “Fine,” I snapped, flipping the audience the middle finger salute. Not very royal of me, but it felt terrific. “You try having your naked ass glued to a fucking throne and see how funny you can be.”

  “Try again, sweetheart,” Nana insisted from the wings. “Maybe show some cleavage.”

  “Are you serious?” I hissed at Nana. She’d been joined by a Demon named Lizard. He was a buddy of mine from Hell. Sadly, he didn’t seem to want to help me out either. Lizard just stood there and smacked on his ever-present chewing gum.