Fashionably Dead (15 page)

“Why do you say that?” I gasped. He barely touched me, but if he did it again he was going to get slammed to the wall and manhandled by me. He’d probably love it, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to face myself in the mirror ever again. Wait . . . I couldn’t see myself in the mirror anyway. What if I just . . . NO. Ethan was a bad, bad sex-on-a-stick Vampyre man who tried to kill me. Am I so hard up that I need to suck face with a criminal? Well . . .

“Come back to me, Angel.” Ethan snapped me out of my fantasy with a twinkle in his eyes that led me to believe he definitely knew everything I was thinking. Shit. Was he a mind reader too?

“Why do you say I’m in so much trouble?” My voice sounded husky and far away. “You don’t even know if I did anything,” I said, frantically trying to close and lock the garage doors in my brain. All these Vampyres with
gifts
were killin’ me.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re his type,” Ethan said as his lips moved to my neck.
Can’t think, can’t think, can’t think
. I moaned.

My body melted as he lightly nipped and kissed my neck. I felt all noodley and he grabbed me before I fell back into the sink. Ethan pulled me to the edge of the counter, effectively lining up my lady parts with his very impressive man parts.

“What do you mean?” I whispered. I was quickly losing control of my modesty, not that I had that much to start with. But even I realized wrapping my legs around and pressing myself closer to a man I barely knew didn’t look so good. A man who until two minutes ago I thought might want to kill me. I didn’t even care. As crazy as it sounded, this psycho made me feel safe . . . or at least mind-alteringly horny. But what the hell did I know? I’d gotten hypnotized at a strip mall.

“You’re the Warrior Prince’s type,” he whispered into my ear, sending shivers straight to my girlie parts. “He’s been dead for so long, it’s rare for any woman to make him feel like a man.” He nipped my earlobe and I gasped.
Dear God, I couldn’t remember my name. What’s my freakin’ name?
“He’s too powerful, too feared—they treat him like a god instead of a man,” he continued to whisper and I continued to try to recall what people call me. “I don’t think you’re afraid of anything.” He ran his lips along my jaw, back to the corner of my mouth. I shuddered. What in the hell was he babbling about? Fear? Who?

His eyes bored into mine with an intensity that scared the hell out of me and made me want to tackle his ass at the same time, “I believe you could make him feel alive again.”

He grabbed my legs and inched me even closer. This was getting serious and I still couldn’t remember my stupid name. No getting away this time, even if I wanted to. I didn’t want to. I was crazy happy right where I was. I wove my hands into his hair, cupped the back of his head and pulled his lips to mine. His lips were soft and anything but gentle. He bit at my bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth. He teased my tongue with his own, sending little shockwaves through my body and waking up my very bad girl from her slumber. He tasted even better than he smelled. The pressure of him against me sent a hot heat coursing through my body. Turns out kissing a Vampyre was better than sex with a human one hundred times over.

Sex with him would be . . . deadly. Maybe literally, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. I just wanted to . . . but I can’t. Oh God, I still didn’t know my name. My brain cells flew out of my head with every touch, every lick every . . . Oh. My. God. His hands moved down and roughly grabbed my ass and ground me into an erection so impressive I damn near fainted. There was no doubt that he wanted me as much as I wanted him.

My barely-there thong was soaked and my body had taken over for my brain. Much to my great shock
and secret delight
I was grinding and writhing against the gorgeous Vampyre and I even . . . wait.

Astrid! My name is Astrid.

I was on the verge of breaking every rule I’d ever made for myself, but the gorgeous Vampyre was having a difficult time holding onto his control too. The sounds that were coming from deep in his body made my brain skitz out. I answered back with my own moans of pleasure. I melted against him, pliant and oh so willing. I knew if I died right now,
I mean for real dead,
I’d die happy.

The power I felt over him was as intoxicating as his kiss. I could do this forever.
Whoa. What the fu . . . ? No, no, no. This is wrong . . .
The burning in my gums led me to believe my fangs decided to show up and I wanted to bite him. Bad. That’s right, I wanted to bite him and drink from him. I wanted to sink my fangs into him and claim him as mine. Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine. But that would mean something . . . damn it, what did it mean if I bit him? If he hadn’t sucked out all my brain cells I could remember why it would be a bad idea.

Whatever. I was done trying to listen to my rational self. It was time to throw him to the floor and ride him like a cowboy. I didn’t care if the whole ballroom came out and watched me have sex in a bathroom with a killer Vampyre.

But wait . . . we were clearly not on the same page. Why did he stop? What in the hell was he saying? The pre-coital ringing in my ears made hearing anything but moans virtually impossible . . . was he actually talking?
For real?

“The Prince will want you.”

“What?”
The Prince will what?

“He will want you more than he’s ever wanted anything in his whole life. He will want you in his bed. Naked and pinned beneath him.”

I froze.

“That’s disgusting,” I practically spit. I pushed Ethan the Greek god, the man of every sexual fantasy I’d ever had, off of me. He stumbled back, surprised by my strength.

“What are you, his wingman? Scoping out new Vamp-meat for Prince Jackass? Taking me for a test run, you jerk?” I hissed, trying to block out the fact that less than a minute ago I was ready to get naked and sink my fangs into this asshole and claim him for eternity.

Before I even saw him move, he was back up in my face, his body flush with mine.
Brain cells, brain cells, brain cells, why have you forsaken me?

His eyes bored into mine, “Little Angel, I would suggest you be careful. Not everyone is as lenient as I am when it comes to bashing the Prince.”

“Your Prince sounds like an oversexed asshole rapist,” I gasped, trying to get Ethan off of me. My struggles were embarrassingly pathetic.

What in the hell was wrong with me? This asshole, while rubbing all over me, was informing me that I would be having sex with his even bigger asshole Prince. First he tried to kill me, now he was ready to pimp me off to his almighty Lord and Master.
Why in the hell was I still turned on by him?

“I’m not sure there is such a thing as oversexed and he’s definitely not a rapist,” he laughed, cupping my face between his very large hands. “I assure you, the Prince can be an asshole, but he has never taken an unwilling woman to his bed. Ever.”

I pushed him away again, and again he seemed surprised by my strength. Uh oh, I needed to pull back or he might start asking questions I couldn’t answer.

“You should take heed, little Angel,” he said, “he gets what he wants . . . and he will want you.”

“Well, he can’t have me,” I told him.

He thankfully seemed to be ignoring my power for the moment. What was I thinking? He saw me disappear in a cloud of Fairy Glitter in the graveyard.

“We shall see, little Angel, we shall see.”

He ran his fingers lightly across my collarbone and down my arm. His sexy smirk was back. “I’ll be seeing you. Soon.”

“Don’t bet on it.”

He kissed me lightly and then he was gone. My hand went automatically to my lips and the rest of me went boneless. Thankfully there was a sink to catch my fall.

Chapter 14

After three tries I found my way back to the ballroom foyer and was greeted by some very attractive, no-nonsense Vampyres. They said very little and made me feel uncomfortable. Screw ‘em.

After standing there in silence for what felt like an hour with the most boring Vamps I’d met yet, it was finally time to go. I entered the Grand Ballroom as if I were walking to the guillotine.

What a freakin’ crazy day . . . and it wasn’t even over. First, I’d flirted with a beautiful Vampyre named Heathcliff, who turned out to be five times my age and probably thought I was easy. Second, I’d been willingly molested by a very sexy and dangerous Vampyre who definitely assumed I was easy. Now I was going to slap bloody palms with another guy who hopefully knew nothing about my loose morals . . . although according to Ethan this Prince guy was going to want to do me. Not gonna happen. I was done with Vamps. They were nuts. Well . . . Heathcliff seemed nice.

As we made our way in, there was a Vampyre on either side of me and one directly behind me. No escaping now. My eyes were downcast and I had no idea where I was going. Thankfully I was sandwiched between the ridiculously serious Vamps, or I’d have walked into a wall. The marble floors were very pretty and very clean.

Thank Jesus for my nose. At least I could get a sense of what was going on by the scent in the room. The smell thing had taken some getting used to, but it had been worth it. I’d learned how to turn it off when I was around garbage or other foul smelling things, and I’d almost mastered how to focus on one person or area. It was very handy for assessing human or non-human intentions. I could smell anger, sadness, jealousy, arousal, hatred . . . all kinds of emotions. Right now the overriding emotions in the ballroom were curiosity and excitement.

I could smell Venus. She smelled like jasmine mixed with a touch of vanilla. She was happy and nervous for me. It was comforting to know she was close by. Hard to admit, but I was scared. This was all so formal and unfamiliar it made my stomach churn. It felt like a movie, and I was the dumb heroine on the verge of an event that would change her life. Permanently.
Crap.

Focus. You’re a Vampyre and you have to do this. If I turned and ran, I’d probably be punished . . . by death. Fuck, life was so much easier when I was an art teacher who smoked. Just sniff people—get your mind off of dying. Thankfully I could smell Heathcliff. He was spicy with a hint of brown sugar. He was glad to see me again. I sensed anticipation and attraction from him. Heathcliff was so solid and kind. Not like that disgusting Ethan at all. Why couldn’t ol’ Heath be part of the Vampyre sandwich surrounding me? I wanted to look up and find him, but I didn’t dare.

And then it hit me. There was a scent in the room that overwhelmed all the others. It made me angry and confused. I recognized it at once, as if I’d always known it. Ethan was in this room somewhere. I so needed to stay away from him. He smelled like Heaven. Clean laundry right off the line, summer breezes with hints of orange blossoms and sex. He also smelled dangerous. The scent was indescribable, but it was very masculine and very hot.

I assumed he was one of the Elite Guard with Heathcliff. He’d have to be, to know so much about the Warrior Pig’s,
whoops, Prince’s
sexual habits. He seemed to know way too much. What did he do? Watch? All of these Vampyres were perverts. Ethan was probably the biggest pervert of them all. No matter how good he smelled or how hot he was, he was a jerk. Next time I saw him, I’d tell him. With my luck, he and Heathcliff were best buds. That would suck.

My Vamp sandwich was guiding me to my knees. Nobody said anything about kneeling. Shit, it was seriously difficult to kneel in a super short dress and stilettos. I couldn’t believe I had to kneel to the Warrior Idiot. I grabbed the elbows of my totally not-hilarious escorts and made them help me down.

These Vamps clearly worshiped their Pervert Prince. So did Venus. So did Heathcliff. Wait . . . something wasn’t adding up. Ethan had to be full of it. Just because he was a sexist asshole, didn’t mean the Warrior Prince was too. Did it? He could have been lying to me about the whole sex with the Prince thing.

I had no idea why he would have done something so awful and stupid, but he must have. Maybe he got off on scaring the new Vamps. He was such a total asshole. I could only imagine what would happen if anyone knew what he had said about the Prince. He would be punished. Speaking blasphemously of the Prince was punishable by death. Not that I would tell—Ethan was far too pretty to die. Furthermore, I could hold it over his head for eternity. I grinned at the thought of having something on him. That would teach him not to screw with the heads of newbie Vampyres.

Venus loved and respected the Warrior Prince. I trusted Venus more than I trusted Ethan. My brain cells evaporated around Ethan. You couldn’t trust someone who brought out your inner slut. Thousands of Vampyres couldn’t be wrong. In such a violent society, the Prince would have to be extraordinary to have the loyal following that he did.

Speaking of violent, I felt the chilled handle of a jewel-encrusted knife being pressed into my hand. It was heavy, and I’m sure worth more than my house. This was the knife I would slice my hand with to prove my loyalty to the Warrior Prince. I wondered if I got to keep it. Gemma and The Kev would be so impressed. I would slice my palm as he sliced his, then we would join hands and mix our blood. Our lives would forever be intertwined. I would pledge to guard his life as I would my own. I really thought all of this would piss me off, but suddenly I felt excited and nervous and ready. God, what if I did something stupid? Please, please, please let me get through this without doing anything embarrassing. Let me make Venus and Heathcliff proud.