Fashionably Dead and Wed Book 7

by Robyn Peterman

We sat in mopey silence imagining life without sex. It was a very sad moment.

  “Oh my Uncle God,” I gasped out. “We were supposed to have loud sex to put Mary-Scary-Harry in her place.”

  Ethan shrugged and gave me the eyeball.

  I jumped up and paced the room in agitation. I was not going to watch Mary-Larry flirt with my man. Killing her out of jealousy was not a compassionate thing to do. I was a compassionate, good person—kind of. How else could I put the horny skank in her place?

  “We’ll fake it,” I insisted with satisfaction. “We’ll just yell and throw shit around the room. Maybe if we really get into it, we can break the bed. You ready?”

  “To have fake loud sex with you?” Ethan asked with his brows raised so high I was certain they might touch his hairline.

  “Yessssss,” I hissed. “It’s not breaking any rules and it will shut Scary-Larry up. I would totally do it for you.”

  Ethan laughed and sat back down on the couch. “Astrid, you have changed my life dramatically. Never in my years did I think I would agree to fake loud sex. The bizarre concept had never even crossed my mind. However, I would kill for you, so I suppose playing at bad porno will work. How do we do this?”

  “Look at it like phone sex with lots of movement.”

  “But you always laugh when we try to have phone sex,” Ethan reasoned with a sexy lopsided grin.

  “Point,” I agreed wanting to jump him and ride him like a cowboy. “I’ll do my damnedest not to laugh. Just like grunt and moan and yell shit like faster and oh my God your tits are spectacular. Okay?”

  “Will do,” Ethan said as he went to disrobe.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Getting naked for fake sex.”

  “You don’t get real naked for fake sex. You get fake naked. If you get real naked, we’ll have real sex, and we’ll fail the freakin’ wedding test. I don’t want to fail.”

  “What happens if we flunk the exam?” Ethan asked as he halted his strip show.

  “Um… I don’t know, but I want to get married. I know it’s dumb and human and beneath all that’s Vampyre, but…”

  “I want to marry you too, Astrid,” Ethan said as he crossed the room and gently took me into his strong arms. “Nothing would make me more proud than to be both your mate and your husband.”

  “Really?” I whispered with my face buried in his chest.

  “Really,” he promised. “We shall wait because it’s important to you. I waited for you for hundreds of years. Five days will not kill me.”

  “You’re already dead,” I mumbled with a giggle. “Your argument is moot.”

  “You are correct, beautiful girl. You ready?”

  “For what?” I asked snuggling closer. My need for him surpassed the physical, crawling inside of him couldn’t get me close enough.

  “Oh my God!” he shouted, startling the ever loving Hell out of me. “Do that again, baby. Yeah, right there.”

  I laughed so hard I almost choked as he sprinted across the room and slammed his body against the wall taking down a lamp and several pictures off the wall. My man never went about anything half way.

  “Oh Ethan,” I squealed as I picked up a vase and hurled it across the room. “Don’t stop. I think I’m blind. Your Johnson is sooooooooo huge!”

  “Don’t call it a Johnson,” he whispered trying not to laugh.

  “What should I call it?” I whispered back, grinning so hard it hurt.

  “Humongous love stick,” he informed me as he held on to the wall so he didn’t drop to the floor in hysterics.

  “Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” I shouted turning away from him so I could get it out. “Your porksword is enormous. Impale me. NOW!”

  “Holy shit,” he muttered quietly as he banged his head against the wall. “That was fucking awful.”

  “No it wasn’t,” I hissed and then cackled. “It was awful. Let me try again.”

  “Be my guest. How could it get worse?”

  “Just wait,” I shot back as I banged on the wall and wracked my brain. “Do me with your giant sized man tool. That’s right, you sex god. Take that anaconda and let me know who’s boss. Oooooooooooo baby, do me good with that trouser meat. YES,” I screamed and then fell to the ground laughing so hard I was crying.

  “Jesus,” Ethan grumbled as he crawled over to me. “That was unimaginably worse. You win.”

  “This is not going to accomplish what I was hoping to get done,” I choked out as I tried to control my laughter.

  “I disagree. Anyone who happens to overhear this—which sadly is probably everyone—will know that we’re a happily mated couple with some alarming kinks and a screwed up sense of humor. I would assume this episode will let Mary know she is not in the running for anything.”

  “You think?”

  “Astrid, it doesn’t matter. No one is in the running. You’re it for me. Period,” he replied with a smile as he brushed my wild dark locks from my face. “I love you so much it’s unexplainable. I had nothing before I had you—no laughter, no real love.”

  “No child,” I added, not laughing anymore. “You’re everything to me. And you know what? I don’t need to make Mary feel awful. She does a fine job of that herself. You’re mine and I’m yours. Just promise me if we’re going to see someone you banged in the past that you’ll give me a heads up.”

  “Pun intended?”

  “Yep,” I said with a laugh. “Deal?”

  “Deal,” he replied as he kissed me with so much adoration my tears started again. “You wanna go back to our own suite and get some shut eye?”

  “I do.”

  “I like those words,” he said with a sly grin that melted my heart.

  “That’s a very good thing,” I said as I took his offered hand and got to my feet. “Because you’re going to be hearing them again on Saturday.”

  “And I do believe I will be saying them too,” he added as we left the destroyed suite and headed up stairs.

  With a little squeal, I wrapped my arms around his huge frame and hugged him tight. “Oh Ethan, I can’t wait.”

  “Neither can I, my love. Neither can I.”

  ***

  “Is this a fucking joke?” Pam whispered to me as we watched three gay Demons dressed like the Construction Worker from Village People do a kick line to a song from the musical Cats.

  “Dear God, I hope so,” I muttered. I pressed at my temples and tried to smile at the horrendous show taking place in Ethan’s office.

  Eight in the morning was entirely too early for this shit.

  I sat with a shocked Gemma, Venus, Dixie, Paris Hilton, Raquel and Pam in a line of chairs in front of Ethan’s new desk. We were being entertained—for lack of a more appropriate word—by the three Demons that Satan had sent to audition for the role of wedding planner.

  My bridesmaids were speechless—even Dixie who knew these Demons from her childhood in Hell. They’d made an enormous show of respect for my cousin as she was a Princess of the Underworld. However, the bowing and scraping had turned into a sort of twerking contest. Dixie, who was as appalled as the rest of us, politely but firmly insisted they get to the business they’d come for before the adulation turned into a strip show.

  “Sooooo,” Doug, the most rotund of the trio, said as he clapped his hands wildly making his hard-hat tilt jauntily to the left. “Which one of us do you like the best?”

  “Um… I’m supposed to choose a wedding planner from a kick line?” I asked as I bit down on my lips to hold back the stream of obscenities that were trying to burst forth.

  “Well, yes,” Doug confirmed with jazz hands.

  “Well, no,” I shot back as I stood and did a little spin to make sure he knew I meant business. “You all need to tell me how you would plan my wedding.”

  “Really?” Seamus asked, surprised.

  “Yes, really,” I snapped. “How am I supposed to know if you know an invitation from a place card if the only thing I see as proof of you
r skills is a shitty dance contest?”

  “Well, I’ve never,” Chauncey huffed as he picked up the boom box, flipped me off and disappeared in a cloud of smelly black smoke.

  “You’ve narrowed it down to two,” Pam congratulated me with a guffaw. “Keep insulting them and we’ll have a winner pretty damn quick.”

  “Oh my Hell, this is unbelievable. Do either of you douchebutts know anything about planning a wedding?”

  “He does,” Seamus and Doug said simultaneously pointed at the other.

  “That’s just fanfuckingtastic,” I shouted. “I’m getting married on Saturday and I could use some help here.”

  “This Saturday?” Seamus asked with wide eyes and a worried expression.

  “Yes. Saturday—five days away,” I said as I righted Charles from his prone position on the coffee table.

  Charles had obviously had a good night’s sleep if his purring was anything to go by. All three of his unfortunate looking heads licked my hands and smiled at me. I winked and faced him toward the Demons so he could help me decide—or at least show Satan what a shitshow his plan was.

  “Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh, I can’t do it this Saturday. I’m getting all my teeth pulled,” Seamus informed the room with great regret.

  “Not touching that one,” I muttered as I hung my head. “This is a clusterfuck.”

  “I’ll say,” Pam chimed in with an enormous eye roll.

  “I’m pretty sure you just rolled your eyes so hard you checked out your own ass,” I snapped.

  “Is that possible?” Seamus asked rolling his eyes around in the sockets.

  “No. It’s not possible,” I said wearily, pulling on my hair and wondering how upset everyone would be if Ethan and I eloped.

  “Actually it issssssssssss,” Charles said with a rather gruesome show of proof as he whistled in appreciation at his ass followed by a loud self-slap of said ass.

  The rest of my bridesmaids were still mute from the kick line or possibly from learning that Seamus was getting all of his teeth removed for some bizarre reason which I never wanted to know. Or the fact that Charles just performed a lewd act that should get him either arrested or institutionalized, possibly both. However, Doug was wildly impressed with Charles and clapped in astonishment. That only left Seamus who was still trying roll his eyes enough to stare at his own ass.

  “Doug,” I said through gritted teeth. “Does Saturday work for you?”

  “Yes! It will be fabu! Lots of dancing and… dancing!” he squealed so loudly I slapped my hands over my ears to protect my eardrums.

  “What about a cake, the dinner menu, seating charts, the service…” I ticked off my list and waited.

  “What about them?” Doug asked, perplexed.

  “Do you know how to arrange any of that?”

  “No. But I can get REO Speedwagon to play at the reception!” he informed me while doing a jazz square followed by a gag inducing pelvic thrust.

  And that’s when Charles—or rather Satan, through Charles—stopped appreciating his own ass and got involved.

  All three of Charles’ little ugly heads spun like tops on his lumpy monster body. He sparked and hissed like a madman from the bowels of Hell. My girls flew from their chairs and plastered themselves against the walls hoping for the best and expecting the worst.

  “Sataaaaaaaaaan no want REO Speeeeeeeeedwagooon. Satan waaaant Journeeeeeeey, you asshumping cankeeeeer sore,” Charles bellowed in his Gollum voice.

  “Charles, calm down,” I yelled as smoke began to billow out of every orifice he had.

  “NOOOOOO,” he hissed. “Charles maaaaaaad.”

  Before I could blink an eye or even make a move to zap Charles into submission, Charles spit something wildly unappealing at Doug and the Demon turned into a goopy pile of gelatinous crap. Seamus, wanting no part of this—not to mention he was unavailable on account of his upcoming dental work—zapped his butt out of there so fast I got dizzy.

  Charles, seeing his work here was done, turned back into the unattractively cute statue I’d stupidly adopted.

  “Charles,” I growled as I grabbed him and got in his faces. “If you ever do something like that again, I will blast your stone ass into a million pieces. No one deserves to die for liking REO Speedwagon. Do you understand me?”

  “Well, I don’t know about that,” Pam chimed in.

  “Not helping here,” I hissed at her.

  “Meeeeee sorry,” Charles whimpered as he hung his heads and started to cry. “You waaaaaant me to bring him baaaaaack?”

  “You can do that?” I asked, shocked.

  “Yesssssss,” he replied. “Meeeee just turnnnned him into poooooop. Fat Demon Doug is stiiiiiilllllll in there.”

  “He’s in the poop?” I cautiously walked over to look at the big glob on the floor and sure enough Doug’s round face was staring up at me.

  It was all kinds of disgusting and I knew if I shared this with Ethan, Charles was so gone.

  “Holy shit—pun intended,” Gemma said as she examined the pile on the floor. “He really is in there. Or at least his face is.”

  “Dude,” Venus said on a gag. “That is gross.”

  “I’m gonna hurl,” Paris Hilton choked out, slapping her hands over her mouth.

  “You can’t. You’re a Vampyre,” I snapped, feeling as close to puking as I ever had.

  “Damn it, you’re right,” Paris shrieked, going paler than she already was.

  “I can fix this,” Dixie said as she stepped up and studied the Doug poo pile. “Charles you tell my father this is unacceptable. Doug will need years of therapy after this.”

  “Heeeeee can hearrrrrr you,” Charles told Dixie.

  “Are you a portal to my father?” she asked, surprised.

  “Nooooooo, just a spyyyyyyyy,” he explained.

  “Lovely,” she muttered, verbalizing my feelings exactly.

  Ethan was right. I couldn’t keep Charles. He was a fucking menace.

  With a wave of her hands, red and purple fire consumed the goopy lump on the floor. Dixie chanted something in a dead language that I was semi-able to understand and Doug reappeared. Of course he was covered in a jelly-like substance and buck ass naked, but at least he was alive—traumatized—but breathing.

  “I’d like to disqualify myself from the position,” Doug said with teeth chattering and abject fear written all over his chubby face.

  I didn’t blame him.

  “Did you really think you could do the job in the first place?” I asked as I flopped down on the couch and did everything I could do not to cry.

  “I didn’t really even consider that,” Doug said with an apologetic shrug. “I was just excited to dance in public. I’ve never seen a wedding in my life. Most Demons haven’t.”

  “He’s right,” Dixie said as she waved her hands, cleaning and clothing Doug. “These Demons were born in Hell and have no real clue what human traditions are like. I have no idea what my father was thinking.”

  “I’m really sorry,” Fat Demon Doug said as he sat down next to me and patted my back in despair.

  “Meeeeee think Saaaatan just want to think heeeeeee in chaaaarge, so heeeee send a Deeeeemooon to ruuuun the shoooow,” Charles explained.

  “Did the Devil just hear you say that?” I asked getting ready to hunker down if Satan blew up the compound because of Charles’ insolence.

  “Noooooooo,” Charles said and then giggled. “Meeee can turn it on and oooofffffffffff.”

  “Interesting. Can I trust you?” I asked the stone trouble-maker.

  “Deeeeefine trust,” he replied.

  “Fuck,” I mumbled as I dropped my head into my hands and wondered what in the Hell to do.

  “Charles, I command your allegiance to me and Astrid,” Dixie said as she made a circle in the air with her fingers and sparkling magenta glitter burst from the tips.

  Charles wobbled and groaned a bit then burped loudly—thankfully nothing was expelled. “Yes, myyyyyy liege,” he grunt
ed with a happy squeal.

  “You will no longer report to my father. You are simply a talking, um… little monster dude who knows everything about planning a human wedding. Am I clear?” Dixie asked as she continued to conjure magic.

  “Yesssssssss!”

  “All fixed,” Dixie said with a grin. “You have a wedding planner—albeit a slightly non-traditional one—and Dad will have no idea what’s going on. Win-win.”