Home > Fashionably Dead in Diapers (Hot Damned #4)(10)

Fashionably Dead in Diapers (Hot Damned #4)(10)
Author: Robyn Peterman

The sheer relief that we had dependable babysitters was overwhelming…until we got to the nursery.

"What the Hell?" Ethan roared as we took in the disaster that used to be a charming and somewhat organized baby nursery. His magic seeped off him in waves, filling the room and making movement difficult. Of course, my magic wasn't helping matters much either. For those in the room that needed to breathe, it was going to be difficult at the very least.

The Kev was down. He was sprawled in the middle of the floor with his large hands covering his eyes. He appeared to be alive but exhausted. Martha and Jane hung from chains attached to the ceiling. They had been gagged with stuffed animals. Their torpedo tits swung like pendulums covered in purple sequins and they were kicking their spindly legs angrily. Gemma was collapsed in the rocker that I fed Sammy in. Venus and my child were missing.

The ball of lead in my stomach almost incapacitated me. I sprang forward and yanked The Kev to his feet. My adrenaline levels were at a dangerous peak, not to mention Ethan’s… he was ready to explode. I needed to speak, but my tongue felt thick. Ethan would attack first and ask questions later. I had to find my voice before my friend tree became smaller.

"Sammy?" I yelled. "Where is my baby?"

Gemma flew to her feet and grabbed me. "He's fine," she shouted as she realized what the scene must look like to us. "He's fine. Venus is bathing him in the bathroom. He got a little messy with…um, all the games we, um, you know…played. He's fine. I promise."

If I could breathe, I would have expelled the mother of all sighs. Both my mate's and my magic receded and the room became less claustrophobic. My baby was fine. Everything was okay. I knew I loved my child. I was positive I would kill for him. However, I realized at the last moment I would most likely destroy the world to keep him safe.

A small pang of hurt settled in my chest as I realized my mother would have done very little to nothing to ensure my safety. Hell, she'd tried to kill me. How does that happen? I took no classes on being a mom. I'd had a tremendously shitty example of what it meant to be a mom, yet I was a good mom—I was a great mom. Yes…my child was swearing at several months old, but I loved him. I was going to do better with my mouth. At least I would try.

He'll have to go to therapy for something I do in his life, but it will be unintentional. Maybe I'll smother him with too much love. I could live with that fault. My son will know he is loved. Always. He can tell his therapist that I loved him too much, was liberal with the word fuck, and that I made out with his father too often. He can tell him I killed a few bad guys, spent too much money on Prada and worked hard not to blow up the continental United States. My boy can complain that his uncle was Satan and that his Demon blood came from my side…shitshitfuckshit. I was going to start a therapy fund for Samuel on Monday. He was going to need it.

"What games did you play?" Ethan asked way too softly. He didn't have a firm grip on his fury yet and I was a teensy bit worried for the safety of all in the room.

"It was all good for the first hour or so," The Kev mumbled wearily as he collapsed on the couch. "And then the wrinkly pains-in-my-ass that are now hanging from the ceiling suggested charades. Trust me on this…do not play charades with your son until he's a grown man. Actually, just don't ever do it. I have lived thousands of years and I have never seen anything quite like it."

"Oh my God, what happened?" I demanded, wondering what could have brought the strongest and most deadly Fairy in the universe to his knees.

"Sammy didn't exactly understand that we were just acting out the words," Gemma said and then blanched. "He kind of conjured up everything on the list and then he just started to conjure. I'd call it a free-association kind of conjure-fest."

"That's quite mild," The Kev chimed in. "I'm not sure who my godchild has been hanging with, but that little dude sure has one scary imagination."

"What in the Hell did he conjure up?" Ethan asked as he scanned the room for major structural damage. "I see no real damage in here—only a mess."

"Well, um…don't go to your kitchen or the back left side of the mansion." The Kev grinned and I almost laughed. With his new David Hasselhoff persona it was difficult to take him seriously.

"Why? Is it gone?" I asked as I yanked the pink and blue stuffed kittens from Jane and Martha's mouths. I was sure they would have something interesting to add to the conversation. Something that I hoped would allow me to maim them. Strangely, they stayed silent. Not a good sign.

"Yep, totally gone," Gemma explained guiltily. "But if you give me a half hour or so I can restore it."

"Thanks," I muttered, wondering why I couldn't sense the destruction when I arrived home. "What happened and why couldn't I smell it?"

Both Gemma and The Kev turned to the old bitches hanging in the air and waited. I knew it. I knew it was a suckass clusterfuck of a shitball idea to have them babysit. Fuckityfuckfuck, I should have listened to my gut. They were never going to be around Samuel again. Ever. I didn't care how much Sammy begged for them. They were destructive imbeciles and I should have let them bleed out and die when I'd had the chance. Well, maybe not, but that didn't change the fact that I was going to have them moved to another Vampyre compound—like one in the North Pole area.

"Martha and Jane, I'd suggest you start talking or I will let my imagination take over and that could be really rough on your limbs," I stated without one swear word. See? I could do it.

   
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