Home > A Fashionably Dead Christmas (Hot Damned #5)(2)

A Fashionably Dead Christmas (Hot Damned #5)(2)
Author: Robyn Peterman

“Rumor has it Ronnie might have gotten a little too close to Heaven’s astrologer. Nancy got pissed and… well let’s leave it at that,” Martha explained with a shudder.

“Yessiree,” Jane added. “Heads rolled. Literally.”

“Wait.” I pinched the bridge of my nose and tried to block out the image of the very proper Vampyre Nancy Regan removing a head. “Ronald and Nancy Regan won all of your considerable fortune off of you?”

“Hell no! They suck at poker. We just invited them to be eye candy. It was a friendly little evening until that fucker, Mister Rogers, showed up,” Jane growled.

“Yep,” Martha added with a disgusted snort. “He waltzed in wearing that fugly-ass sweater and then the bastard held up the game for twenty goddamned minutes while he changed his tennis shoes.”

“So Mister Rogers won all of your money?” I asked, curious to hear if anyone else had shown up. The dumbasses stared at the ground in shame. Holy Cousin Jesus, they were stupid. Everyone knew that Fred Rogers was a freakin’ card shark.

“Yes,” they mumbled sadly.

“So then, being broke, you freaks of nature decided you would steal an arsenal to give to my baby for Christmas?”

“Sounds about right,” Martha said.

“Clearly, and thankfully, you two assbags never had children. You do not give babies weapons. Ever.”

“See? I told you that,” Jane groused at Martha. “We should have stuck with my plan to get him a hooker.”

“Sweet baby Satan in a thong,” I shouted. “You two imbeciles will go the art room and make Samuel a present in less than twenty-four hours, since Christmas is tomorrow. You will craft something from soft materials and glue. You are forbidden to use staples or anything sharp in the making of said gift. There will be no more stealing or I will remove your hands and they would take at least six weeks to grow back. Are we clear?”

“Can we make a hooker for him?” Jane suggested.

“Can I pierce your heart with a silver fucking stake?” I shot back.

“Um… no?” Jane replied.

“There’s your answer,” I stated as I clasped my hands tightly together to keep from zapping them completely bald. “I’d also recommend neither of you say another word as my fingers are itching to blast your asses into tomorrow.”

Martha raised her hand and looked at me expectantly.

“Yes, Martha?”

“What about the receipt-less gifts we procured?”

I stared at the deadly pile and grinned. “No worries. I’ll give them to Uncle Satan. He’ll love them—especially the fact that they were stolen.”

Martha and Jane paled, and then gulped loudly as they slunk out of the room. It was never a good idea to let my Uncle know your list of bad deeds. He had a memory like a steel trap. The mere thought of Martha and Jane eventually ending up in Hell made me laugh though. Even Satan wouldn’t be able to handle them.

I would just add the weapons to the Journey concert tickets I’d bought the King of the Underworld. He’d be on Cloud Nine—well not really, that was more his brother God’s territory.

Chapter 2

The Great Room in the Cressida House was ginormous. Occasionally I missed my quaint, cozy, little house from when I was human, but this was my new home. The most important men in my life lived in it—Ethan, my mate, and Samuel, my son.

Hell, I’d live in a cave and give up Prada to be with my boys.

Glancing around the vast room, I giggled. Christmas decorations covered every conceivable nook and cranny. It had taken Gemma, Venus, Pam, Paris Hilton, and me four days of solid work to accomplish the feat and the results were garishly wonderful. Pam, my guardian angel and stepmother to my mate, created new and profane lyrics to The Twelve Days of Christmas. The atrocity would definitely go down in history. Unfortunately, Samuel had been present and I’d been hearing about turtle doves fornicating and pipers whacking off nonstop since.

The twelve-foot tree in the corner was the crowning jewel. It was lit with brightly colored chaser lights and had so many ornaments on it the needles of the tree were barely visible. Samuel had screamed with delight when he saw it and changed his skin color for two hours straight to match the light show. My baby’s talents were many. The ability to adjust his skin color to his surroundings or to his liking was only the tip of the iceberg.

He’d sported red and green skin for the last week in preparation for the holiday. Slightly alarming behavior—but tolerable. I picked my battles with my child carefully. Skin was skin. It was the conjuring up Trolls I took issue with…

As stunning as the tree was, there was nothing more beautiful than the large, sexier-than-Hell Vampyre sitting on the floor next to it. Dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt with his blond hair all sexy-messy, he looked like he was posing for an ad in a glossy magazine.

My body tingled with desire looking at him and I considered a quickie under the tree, but there was entirely too much to do. Ethan looked adorably confused as he attempted to wrap our son’s presents. Wrapping paper covered in snowmen was wadded into crinkled balls and several tape dispensers had come apart under my mate’s wrath.

He glanced up, gave me a sexy, lopsided grin and put his hands up in surrender. “So Astrid, my love, the question of the hour… why do we put paper and tape on something that’s going to be torn off and thrown away? This is ridiculous, not to mention a poor use of our trees.”

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