Fashionably Fanged: Book Eight, The Hot Damned Series

by Robyn Peterman

  Oh my Hell. This wasn’t like the last time at all.

  Small shudders rocked my body as he drew blood from me. The needles beneath my skin returned with a vengeance and I grew wildly hot and uncomfortable. It didn’t help that he kept his eyes glued to mine as he drank.

  Shitty taste in men. Shitty taste in men. Shitty taste in men. I needed to remember I had shitty taste in men. It was just hard to commit to the mantra when Gareth was staring at me like he would die without me.

  “Um… you guys want us to step out of the car?” Jane asked with waggling brows. “Gettin’ a little smexy in here.”

  “I’ll say,” Martha agreed with a cackle. “I’m getting a woody and I’m not even involved.”

  “Women don’t get woodies,” I snarled, trying to cover my embarrassment and horniness with anger. Plus women didn’t get woodies.

  Gareth removed his fangs and licked my wrist to close the puncture holes. It was so appallingly intimate, I was certain I had a mini orgasm just watching… so again I covered my ridiculous reaction with indifference and anger.

  “They’re pulling up,” I growled, refusing to make eye contact until I had a little more control. “Have you ever fought an Angel?”

  “I have.”

  “Holy shitballs,” Jane shouted. “And you lived?”

  “Apparently,” Gareth replied dryly.

  “Any pointers?” I asked. I was as amazed as Jane, but not about to show it.

  “Go for the eyes, it’s where all the magic lives. Once you blind them it becomes somewhat of a fair fight. Not easy, mind you, but it levels the playing field a bit.”

  “And you know this how?” I inquired, checking my weapons one more time. I’d need short daggers and throwing stars if I wanted to take out an eye or two.

  “I was trained to fight by an Angel,” he replied smoothly as he too checked his weapons.

  That was unheard of. No Vampyre was trained by an Angel. Fairies were deadly, but Angels were freakin’ terrifying and none of them were partial to Vamps. Or at least I didn’t think they were.

  “I call bullshit,” I said, gaping at him.

  “Call whatever you want,” he shot back with a shrug. “The truth is the truth whether you want to believe it or not.”

  The look in his eyes implied he was speaking of much more than the unbelievable fact that he was trained by an Angel. But this was not the time to press him for information I was certain I didn’t want to hear.

  “Who trained you?” I asked, still doubtful.

  “The most powerful angelic ass of them all.”

  “Roberto?” I whispered, awed.

  “The one and only. Shall we have a little celestial showdown?”

  “You’re not lying?” I was flabbergasted and impressed… and turned on.

  Shitty taste in men. Shitty taste in men. Shitty taste in men.

  “I never lie. Ready?” Gareth asked.

  “I was born ready,” I said as a small smile began to pull at my lips.

  “That’s my girl.”

  My stomach flipped at the endearment, but I quickly brushed it off. I liked it far better when he was being an ass to me.

  “We will try and walk away from this without engaging. My guess is Roberto sent flunkies to keep an eye on what we’re doing.”

  “Not very good flunkies if we spotted them,” Martha pointed out.

  “Trust me,” Gareth said. “They wanted us to see them otherwise we wouldn’t have. Oh, and don’t call me Gareth. I don’t know if they’ll be able to see through the glamour, but it’s best they not know who I am.”

  “Do you think they’ll see through it?” I asked.

  Gareth shrugged and then looked pensive. “Possibly. Can you keep a secret?”

  “I can,” Martha insisted. “I’ll take it to the grave that Jane was born a hermaphrodite.”

  “Holy shit,” Jane shouted, head butting Martha with an alarming battle cry. “You wanna play hard ball? Fine. Martha has four nipples.”

  “I’m gonna kick your ass, hooker,” Martha grunted as she tackled Jane and they went to town in the back seat.

  “Not sure they can, but I can,” I told him with a grin.

  “No worries,” he said. “I’ll wipe their minds later if I have to.”

  “What’s the secret?”

  Without a word, Gareth closed his eyes and shifted into the body of a gorgeous man with light brown hair and golden yellow eyes. It was instant and I sat slack jawed as I stared.

  “What did you just do?” I asked loud enough to be heard over the ruckus in the back seat.

  “One of my gifts,” he replied easily. “While the Angels might be able to see through Samuel’s glamour, I know for certain they can’t see through this.”

  “Why did you let Samuel glamour you then?” I asked confused.

  “This will only last a short while and takes a tremendous amount of power. I don’t have that power at my disposal right now, but your blood helped.”

  “How long can you hold it?”

  “Half hour—maybe a bit longer. So let’s get this show on the road.”

  “What the ever lovin’ hell?” Jane exclaimed in her outdoor voice as she came up for air and noticed Gareth’s new appearance.

  “Parlor trick,” he said.

  “Cool,” Martha said as she too peered at him in fascination.

  “My name is Dickie,” Gareth said with a smirk. “Dickie the Vampyre.”

  “Understood.” Biting back my laugh at his mention of the ridiculous name I gave him, I nodded and prayed this new version of Gareth would hold up long enough for us to get out alive.

  There was only one way to find out.

  Chapter Twelve

  The Angels stepped out of their car at the same time we did. Tension was thick, but Gareth’s body language was calm and composed. He leaned against the SUV and crossed his arms over his chest. I did my best to mimic his relaxed stance. I didn’t believe for a second he wasn’t as full of apprehension as I was.

  The sky was filled with stars and no moon in sight. The eyes of the Angels burned as bright as the stars in the sky—eerily beautiful… and unsettling.

  “Well, bless my undead soul if it’s not judgment and destruction,” Gareth said in a jovial tone, clapping his hands very slowly—and rudely.

  Both were blond, built, and huge… and they were clad in all black—cargo pants, t-shirts, leather jackets and combat boots. They were dressed very similarly to us. I thought the color was an interesting choice, but what the hell did I know? The two men were ethereal and exquisite… and seriously confused.

  “Forgive me, for I seem to be at a loss,” the one on the left said in a melodically hypnotic voice. “You clearly know who I am, but I can’t quite place you.”

  I wanted to cheer that they didn’t recognize him, but I stayed silent next to Gareth and waited to see what he would do.

  “You are forgiven, Azriel,” Gareth replied smoothly, pushing himself away from the car and standing to his full height. He was as big and as powerful looking as the Angels. “However, I must say it’s a bit odd that you don’t know who you’re trailing. I’d have to call that a jackhole move on your part.”

  Azriel’s eyes flashed, but his casual smile remained in place. “Are you stupid or do you have a death wish?”

  “Let me think,” Gareth said, putting his middle finger to his mouth and grinning wide. “Neither. Just a little bored at the moment.”

  “Is he flipping me off?” the one named Azriel asked the other Angel with a surprised chuckle.

  “I believe he is—very interesting. If I had to guess,” the other Angel said, staring hard at us. “I’d say the insolent male is Gareth, but Gareth is cursed and this Vampyre isn’t. And this imbecile looks nothing like the Gareth I remember.”

  “Aren’t you the astute one, Azbogah.” Gareth saluted and gave the Angel a mocking bow of respect.

  I wanted to smack him. Hard.

  My tension was building
at an alarming rate. So much for not engaging… Gareth was pissing them off. I was shocked that he’d flipped an Angel off. But then again, he’d also smack talked Satan. He’d successfully pissed off Heaven and Hell within twenty-four hours. He was insane.

  With the least bit of movement possible, I placed one hand on a dagger and one on a throwing star. I had no intention of dying at a rest stop in the middle of nowhere because Gareth was a grandstanding asshole.

  “Your name, Vampyre,” Azbogah demanded.

  “All in good time,” Gareth shot back. “Your reason for following us?”

  “I believe I made my request first,” Azbogah reminded him in a tone that sent a shiver down my spine.

  “Your point?”

  “Enough games,” Azriel growled. “State your name, Vampyre. I shall not ask again.”

  “That tone will get you nowhere fast,” Gareth replied with a chuckle. “Wouldn’t Roberto enjoy knowing two of his top flunkies fucked up?”

  “Excuse me?” Azbogah roared as he lit up like a lantern. The golden flames shot out bursts of silver glitter and hissed and cackled. He was completely on fire, but not getting burned at all.

  The embers floated on the cool evening breeze and the air was scented with gardenia. It was beautifully terrifying. The Angel glowed like a deadly beacon in the night and his eyes blazed reddish gold.

  “Come now,” Gareth purred menacingly, stepping closer to the fire. “You can certainly do better than that. I’ve seen those beady little eyes go purple when you’re pissy.”

  The flames subsided as quickly as they’d roared to life and Azbogah moved faster than my eyes could follow. He stood toe to toe with Gareth and hissed in his face. “You son of a bitch. I could have fried your undead ass to a crisp. You know far better than to mess with me.”

  “Damn it, man,” Azriel said with a bark of laughter. “I knew it had to be you. How did you accomplish this, Gareth?”

  “His name is Dickie,” Martha yelled from the car. “Don’t you touch him or I’ll bite your ass so hard you won’t sit for a year, fucker.”

  “Are those, um… ladies with you?” Azriel inquired, amused and confused by the threat.

  “Unfortunately, yes,” Gareth informed him.

  Gareth glanced back at the cowering old gals with their heads poking out of the rear window and shook his head.

  “Gimme the word, Dickie, and I’ll go Rambo on his tight, sexy, bitable ass,” Martha shouted and then ducked back down.

  “No need,” Gareth told her pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes. “These ugly bastards are actually my friends.”

  “Friend is pushing it, Vampyre,” Azriel said, still grinning. He turned his attention to me and assessed my stance with a raised brow. “Tell your mate to stand down. It would annoy me to be stabbed right now.”

  “I’m not his mate,” I corrected the Angel, still keeping my hands on my weapons. The situation was beyond surreal and I wasn’t taking any chances.

  Azriel cocked his head to the right and gave me a quizzical look before turning away and focusing back on his friend Gareth. “Should I ask how you’ve broken the curse? You have an interesting track record for playing with fire.”

  “No, you shouldn’t,” Gareth replied.

  “Is it permanent? Are you cured?”

  “No and no. And to be quite honest I don’t have the time or the inclination to play catch up with either of you—never liked you that much. Why are you following us?” Gareth got right to the point and showed no fear at all to the Angels who could smite all of us to ash with a well-placed flick of their fingers.

  “You should really get a handle on your manners, Vampyre,” Azriel suggested mildly as he strolled over and stopped in front of me.

  I stood my ground and looked him in the eye. I said a quick prayer to his boss and hoped since they were friends, or at the very least friendly acquaintances of Gareth, I would live through the next few minutes.

  “You do realize he’ll take you to the dark side,” Azriel said quietly, but loud enough for Gareth to hear. “I could show you a much better time, beautiful creature.”

  “I’m already on the dark side, Angel,” I said. “And I like it.”

  “Back away from her. Now,” Gareth growled as his eyes turned a brilliant green and his fangs dropped.

  “Or?” Azriel asked.

  “Or I’ll do to you now what I did to you not so very long ago.”

  Azriel’s laugh was wildly appealing and his power was immense, but he did nothing for me. I liked the asshole Vamp torturing him far better. God help me, but I did.

  “I always seem to be a day late and a dollar short,” Azriel said with a wink to me. “And you, Gareth, really need to let that little episode go. You were lucky.”

  “I’d rather be lucky than good any day.” Gareth stepped between me and the Angel making his point very clear.

  And for once I didn’t mind.

  “Am I allowed to speak?” Jane called out from the car.

  “No,” Gareth and I yelled together.

  “Just checkin’,” she replied grumpily.

  “State your business and let us leave without bloodshed. I’d really hate to mess up your pretty face,” Gareth said flatly. “I have places to be and things to kill.”

  “Yes, and we have orders to make sure you accomplish that without fucking up,” Azbogah said walking back to his car.

  “And you wanted us to know this, why?”

  Azbogah tossed the keys to Azriel and paused for a moment. “Several reasons. I don’t like surprises, and as I remember, neither do you. Meeting before the showdown is beneficial to all involved. I’ve been told coming upon an Angel without warning can be a rather unpleasant surprise.”

  “You can sure as hell say that again, flaming mother humper,” Martha called out and then grunted when Jane slammed her head against the car door.

  “I was also curious.”

  “About?” Gareth prompted, impatiently.

  “To meet the woman who could bring the almighty Vampyre to his knees.”

  Gareth paused and glanced up at the star filled sky. “You’ve accomplished what you came for. Leave.”

  We stood our ground and waited. Gareth didn’t set the Angels straight. He simply stared at them. Neither of us was about to turn our back on an Angel, no matter that the situation was stable at the moment. Of course, the statement Azriel had made was bullshit, but I wasn’t about to correct him either.

  “Have a nice drive,” Azbogah said with a wave. “We’ll see you there.”

  With a wave of his hand, the Porsche disappeared, and so did the Angels. I supposed driving was mundane for a species that could zap themselves wherever they wanted.

  “Well, that was fucking bizarre,” Jane said, hopping out of the car and stretching her old bones. “Waste of a good car if you ask me.”

  “I really wanted to sink my fangs into an ass—very bitable,” Martha said sadly.

  What I really wanted was a serious chat with Gareth, but not in front of Martha and Jane. Were my wonky feelings more than the need to get laid? Wasn’t I supposed to at least like the Vampyre who was to be my mate? Was fate a big fat hairy bitch and playing a horrible joke on me? Did I have no say in my never-ending future? God, I needed Astrid right now, but that wasn’t going to happen.

  I had a mission. I would stick to that and deal with the rest later—maybe.

  With a cautious glance over at Gareth, I was relieved that he wasn’t staring back. If he was my fated partner in this very long undead life, he was going to have a tremendous amount of work to do to win me over. And if he wasn’t, if everyone was mistaken, I would make sure he survived the curse… and then I would ensure our paths never crossed again. Hard, but doable.

  “Let’s go,” he said tersely. “Everyone in the car. Martha and Jane if you speak, I will behead you. Am I clear?”

  Both the gals nodded and gave him a thumbs up, clearly unsure when the talking ban went into
effect. That was fine with me. I needed to try to sleep a bit before we arrived.

  My emotions were scattered. I knew sleeping would be difficult, but I was going to fake it till I could make it happen for real. It was going to be the only way I would survive the next week—spiritually, emotionally, and physically.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Ohhhhhh my God,” a nasally female voiced whined. “It’s just not fair that you’re soooooo gorgeous.”

  Rolling my eyes, I turned and expected to find Scary Voice hitting on Gareth—every busty female Vamp in attendance had eyed him hungrily. It pissed me off and made me wish I could knife a few without getting kicked out of the pageant. However, I was wrong this time. The fang grinding voice aimed her bitching at me.

  The welcome cocktail hour was in full swing. My posse and I stood on the outskirts of the crowded room with our backs to the wall. I was doing my best not to engage with the Barbie Vamps, but this one was determined to move right into my space.

  “Pardon me?” I asked politely, trying my damnedest not to wince at her voice.

  She was a knockout, but her high-pitched squeak left a lot to be desired. My new buddy was a blonde haired, golden eyed, ridiculously booby annoyance. Why she had a problem with me was anyone’s guess. She was lip-sticked and sprayed within an inch of her undead life. She was exactly the right type of gal for this bullshit.

  “You’re new,” she pouted and examined my outfit with a critical eye.

  When she found no fault, her pout grew more exaggerated.

  I had no fault with my attire either—a red, low cut Prada halter dress and mile high stilettos. Astrid had done well in packing for me. Of course she’d neglected to put PJ’s or any underwear whatsoever in my suitcase, but I would bet my undead life that the omission was on purpose.

  She’d pay when I got home… if I got home.

  “I am new.” I gave the woman a curt nod and then looked away, clearly dismissing her. Didn’t work.

  “Where ya from?” she asked, shoving Martha and Jane out of the way and wedging herself next to me on the wall.

  “Here and there,” I answered, staying vague. I needed to keep my eye out for Claudia, not make small talk with someone whose voice made me want to head punch them.