Home > Fashionably Dead (Hot Damned #1)(16)

Fashionably Dead (Hot Damned #1)(16)
Author: Robyn Peterman

“It has been sent here to teach you how to fight. Apparently the higher ups,” she gestured to the heavens, “saw you hiding behind the couch last night. We have come to the conclusion that you are a wimpy, pansy-ass Vampyre and you need to learn how to defend yourself. Not run behind furniture like a damn coward.”

“Are you sure you’re an Angel?” I asked, still totally amazed that this disgusting, profane, Oprah look-alike named Pam was even remotely celestial.

“Damn straight, Assbuckle.”

“That’s lovely,” I continued, “so my fighting coach is in my bedroom?”


“Is it a male Angel or a female Angel?” I asked.

“It ain’t no Angel, baby. It’s a male Fairy!” Pam announced.

“He’s gay?”

“No! He’s not gay,” Pam yelled. “He’s a Fairy . . . you know, as in ‘I’ve got wings, and I’m really sexy, and I’m magic, and I’m hung like a horse’ . . . you know.” She looked at me expectantly.

“No, no, actually I don’t know.” I was getting seriously confused and quite honestly a little alarmed by the ‘hung like a horse’ part.

Pam continued again as if English was my second language. “Well anyway, I don’t think he’s gay. I suppose he could be. He doesn’t seem gay. I’m sure he was scoping my boobs and I’m pretty sure he would love to get down on my . . . ”

“Nooo. No, no, no, no!” I screamed. “Stop! Don’t want to hear it.” I flapped my hands against my ears to block her out just in case she was still talking. Her mouth wasn’t moving. I slowly took my hands away, ready to start beating my head again if necessary. “Is he sleeping?” I asked, my hands still poised mid-air.

“For shit’s sake, I don’t know. Go look and see.” She picked up my cell phone, began scrolling through my texts and dismissed me with her middle finger.

I marched down the hall ready to face whatever was in there, threw open my bedroom door and gasped. Not quite as ready as I thought . . . There on my celery green down comforter surrounded by my hunter green and cream pillows lay a one hundred percent buck ass naked Arnold Schwarzenegger.

“Hello, my liebchen,” he joyfully bellowed with the full on Austrian-German accent.

“Hi,” I said and tried to avert my gaze from Arnold’s abundant privates. “I’m Astrid, and you are . . . ?”

“The Kevin, your Fairy Fighting Friend,” he shouted with gusto. What was it with all these loud immortals that looked like celebrities?

“Of course you are,” I muttered as he leapt off my bed and came at me with both arms extended with all regions south a-swinging in the breeze with a vengeance. I quickly sidestepped the lovin’ headed my way, which caused The Kevin to bash into my doorframe.

“Ahhhhhhh!” The Kevin moaned, grabbing his nose. “You are quick, my little strudel princess,” he yelled with pride. “You will be a good fighter! I think you broke my nose.”

“God, I’m so sorry,” I yelped. “Why don’t you sit down?” I grabbed a wad of tissue and pressed them to the fountain of blood gushing from The Kevin’s nose.

“And smart, too!” The Kevin mumbled as I seated him back on my comforter that I now really needed to wash. It was a good thing I wasn’t hungry. The Kevin’s blood smelled delicious, like hot buttery caramel corn and baked cinnamon apples. That would have been seriously awkward, not to mention uncouth, had I gotten busy and licked his face clean.

“The Kevin . . . ” I started.

“You can call me The Kev—all my friends do.”

“Oookay, The Kev, it’s nice to meet you. I’m sorry I broke your nose . . . and you’re going to have to cover yourself,” I added quickly.

“What do you mean, O Beautiful One?” The Kev asked.

I took a deep breath. Did he really not know? “Your privates, The Kev. You have to keep your privates covered.”

“Because they make you want me?” The Kev smiled seductively with a huge wad of tissue hanging out of his nose.

“Nooo . . . ” He was definitely not gay. Why wasn’t I attracted to him? He was gorgeous and naked and in my bedroom. Was there something wrong with me? I needed to be diplomatic without crushing The Kev. “You have very . . . um, nice privates, but you’re more like a brother to me.” I smiled and tilted my head to the side giving The Kev my most sincere and sweet sisterly look. Was he going to buy that shit?

The Kev considered this for a moment and seemed satisfied. He grinned and said, “By my privates, do you mean my buttocks and my rod?”

God help me. “Yes,” I tried to smile, despite the fact he’d called his penis a rod. “That’s exactly what I mean.”

“No problem, my little Krumecaca.” he said.


“It’s a cookie,” The Kev enlightened me.

“Of course it is.”


Life with The Kev and Pam was dysfunctional at its best, and insane at its worst.

The Kev loved me and Pam. Pam tolerated him with the same sweet profanity-laden disrespect that she tolerated me with. He just laughed, flexed his huge muscles at her, and swatted her on the butt. Pam would squeal like a little girl, and then cuss him out like a sailor. We were one little happy albeit odd family—except for one thing. Even though The Kev loved Pam and me, he was head over heels, cuckoo crazy in love with Gemma. As for how Gemma felt? I’d have to say overwhelmed and alarmed.

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