Home > A Fashionably Dead Christmas (Hot Damned #5)(13)

A Fashionably Dead Christmas (Hot Damned #5)(13)
Author: Robyn Peterman

“Noooooooooo,” Abe shouted through his hysterics. “Me like to put panties on me head though.”

Clearly my understanding of baboon needed improvement.

“He say there are two bad mans and they kill the animals for insurance money,” Rachel spat angrily.

“And the bad mans keep the moneys,” Ross added.

My stomach roiled. I knew then I was going to keep the hairy, maimed bastard. Ethan was going to shit a brick, but I’d work that out later.

“Honkasoopy clamatootiewojah deekiemoma.”

“I really hope I heard that wrong,” I hissed. I felt sick.

“Me don’t know, Mommmeeey, but Blobbityflonk also say they kill his family slow and laugh about it,” Abe informed me as he flitted over to the beast and gave him sweet little kisses.

I’d heard correctly.

My fury at what had been done to Blobbityflonk made my hands spark. I quickly tamped it down. There was nothing good to come of me incinerating another room in my house. If I’d had the time, I’d pay a personal visit to the zoo and throw down a little whoop ass before my Demons ate. But alas, there was no time. Christmas was coming whether I was ready or not.

“Lock the doors when you get home,” I said as I stood and extended my hand to the baboon.

He took it and started to lick it.

“What did I say about licking? Absolutely not,” I said sternly as he sucked his tongue back into his mouth guiltily. “You lick any part of me and you will lick all the floors clean in the entire compound.”

“Clabadorunkee fifimacca!”

The idiot thought that what I said was hilarious and inadvertently yanked me down on top of him in his laughing fit. I dropped my head to his chest and hugged him over his mirth.

The Baby Demons joined in and I eventually gave up all hopes of smelling good on Christmas Day. Some things were simply more important than me ending up smelling like a baboon.

“We go now?” Abe asked.

“Yep, go,” I replied as I stood up and pulled the beast to his feet. “Just be back for Christmas. It’s gonna be an interesting one.”

Truer words had never been said.

Chapter 6

“She snores,” Ethan hissed quietly as he tried to get his huge frame comfortable on the small cot. “And that son of a bitch talks in his sleep.”

He was referring to Mother Nature and Satan—and he was correct. Thankfully, Samuel and Blobbityflonk slept through my uncle’s play-by-play of his most recent conquest’s measurements and talents in the bedroom. Unfortunately, Ethan and I did not.

On top of the Hell we were experiencing, the pre-bedtime rituals had been trying. There had been a tense round of negotiations to get my uncle to wear pajamas. In the end, I had to let him enhance three more decorations.

And lest I forget to include that Blobbityflonk had to be taught to use a toilet.

“Do you think he can really do that?” I whispered as the Devil reminisced about a position that would have put me in traction.

“I will not dignify that with an answer,” Ethan replied. “However, if you want to try it, I’m game.”

“Oh my Hell.” I giggled and punched him in the arm. “We’re going to be exhausted tomorrow. I swear on my Cousin Jesus, I will never invite Satan for Christmas again.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Ethan said with a chuckle and a gleam in his beautiful blue eyes. “Do you think we’d get busted for a make out session?”

“Can you be quiet?” I asked as I scooted my cot closer to his.

“I’m not the screamer,” he reminded me with a smirk as he yanked me off of my cot and gently placed me on top of him.

Glancing around the impromptu camp out, I made sure all were fast asleep.

Bingo.

Maybe some tongue tangling with my mate would calm my inner turmoil… or not.

“One love feeds the fire,” Satan sang in the key of Z minor—dead asleep.

“Oh Sweet Hell on Earth—no,” Ethan moaned as he clamped his hands over his ears.

“One heart burns desire,” Satan warbled even louder.

It was all I could do not to squeal with laughter, so I did the next best thing. I grabbed my cell phone and hit record. I was going to own the ultimate of all blackmail tapes.

“Wonder who is crying now,” my beyond tone deaf uncle bellowed in a new and ear grinding key. The song was unrecognizable as music, but I knew Journey’s lyrics like I knew my ABC’s.

“I’m crying,” Ethan grumbled. “And I’m quite sure my ear drums are bleeding.”

“Shhhhhhh… ” I hushed him and pointed to my phone.

My mate’s grin was so evil and so sexy that I almost jumped his bones. However, getting busted by the Devil and my grandmother—not to mention my son and the baboon—didn’t really appeal.

“God, I love you,” he said as he gave me a kiss I felt down to my toes.

“What the Hell is that horrid noise,” Mother Nature asked groggily as she sat up and popped her fingers into her ears.

I pointed at Satan and then at my phone. She giggled and quietly clapped her delicate hands together.

“We can put it on YouTube and embarrass the five thousand dollar pants off of him,” she whispered with rabid excitement.

Her mothering skills left a tremendous amount to be desired, but it was a terrifyingly interesting idea. However, I was pretty sure I wasn’t brave enough to pull off that stunt. I enjoyed my undead life way too much to be executed by the Devil.

   
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