Home > Fashionably Hotter Than Hell (Hot Damned #6)(2)

Fashionably Hotter Than Hell (Hot Damned #6)(2)
Author: Robyn Peterman

I could simply leave the office. That was far more mature than throwing her over my knee and spanking her. Or, God forbid, stripping her down and fucking her into submission on the couch we’d destroyed in our melee. Leaving would ensure she lived another day in her long immortal life and that I wouldn't be brought up on charges for killing a Princess—no matter how much she deserved it.

I stiffly turned to go and was shoved right back into the room by my cousin Astrid, the mother of the child we were supposed to be teaching.

"What in Satan's slightly misguided obsession with Journey happened to this office?" Astrid demanded as she stormed into the room and plopped down on what used to be a priceless antique settee. "Motherfucker, this chair just stabbed me in the ass."

"Ask Wuthering Heights," the flame-haired viper snapped as she pointed at me with her middle finger—definitely not an accident on her part.

I glanced up at the ceiling hoping against hope it would give me the strength not to rip an appendage from her body. I'd had enough of the Wuthering Heights slams. Yes, I was named after a literary character. And yes, my sister was named Cathy. However, my mother had been friends with Emily Brontë, hence the names. I'd come to terms with it hundreds of years ago—or so I'd thought.

"So Cousin Heathcliff," Astrid said as she grinned at me. "Care to enlighten me?"

"Not particularly," I told her. "Why don't you ask the lady?"

My nightmare blushed in fury. Her delicate hands fisted at her sides and her eyes blazed green, which delighted me to no end and made the erection in my pants even more painful. Vampyres didn't blush, but this one did—an anomaly that always fascinated me.

"Raquel?" Astrid questioned as her head bobbed back and forth between us like a spectator at a tennis match.

"He has anger issues," Raquel spat.

"Pot, kettle, black," I muttered.

"Plus, he keeps daring me," she accused as if it were all my fault.

"Well, that certainly sucks," Astrid said. She gave me the stink eye while acting as if the bullshit Raquel just spouted made sense. "While I find all of that fanfuckingfascinating, do you think you guys could take this outside instead of destroying my house?"

"Ask him," Raquel said without looking at me.

"You're buying this crap from her?" I demanded of my cousin.

Astrid shrugged and grinned.

Raquel completely ignored me and went on. "Anyway, he's a chauvinistic pig who clearly comes from a line of pigs. I can't be expected to work with him."

Astrid appeared to be enjoying herself far too much. She found a clutter free spot on the floor and got comfortable. My cousin, too many times removed to remember the number, loved drama—especially drama that she didn't create.

"You do realize you just called me a swine, oh soon-to-be sister-in-law," Astrid announced as Raquel blanched.

No one wanted to incur Astrid’s wrath.

My mother had been Astrid's grandmother several hundred years after she had given birth to my sister and me. While at first it had been awkward and alarming, since Astrid and I mistakenly thought we were attracted to each other, it later turned out to be a blessing. The logistics of our heritage were complicated. Easiest and shortest way to explain is that there had been reincarnation on my mother's part.

"I didn't mean you," Raquel replied contritely.

"Heathcliff is my thirty-fourth or seventy-eighth cousin," Astrid told her as she played with the shattered pieces of a vase that was older than dirt. "So while he may be all those other things, his line is pristine."

I had to roll my eyes at that one. I was a Vampyre and Astrid was half Vampyre and half Demon. Pristine was pushing it.

"Raquel, come with me," Astrid said as she got up and stepped on an ancient scroll. Both the bane of my existence and I winced at that one. "We'll find Samuel and you can teach him quantum physics or some other equally redonkulous bullshit like algebra."

"My pleasure," Raquel said as she waved goodbye to me with her middle finger and flounced out of the room.

That would definitely be the first body part I would remove.

"Heathcliff, you wait here. Ethan wants to talk with you."

The sound of Raquel's laughter as she sped down the hall made me grind my fangs. She wouldn't have the last laugh. Nope, I'd make sure of that.

***

"She's a pain in the ass and as difficult as they come, but she's brilliant and she's my sister. You will make this work. And for God's sake, stop betting her or daring her to do things. She can't stop herself," Ethan said tersely.

My oldest and closest friend ran his hands through his hair in frustration as he took in his office. I glanced around at the disaster and looked down at the floor. I never lost control. Ever. That woman was knocking me off my game and I didn't like it.

"She not difficult. She's a fucking menace," I told him. There simply had to be another way.

"Correct." Ethan grinned, enjoying my pain. He was just as bad as his mate, Astrid. "You two are the best qualified. Astrid and I trust you with the life of our son and that is not something we do lightly."

"She blushes," I said.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Raquel blushes," I repeated.

Ethan busied himself with trying to piece together a statue that had been the victim of his sister’s wrath. He ignored my query.

   
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