Fashionably Dead (20 page)

“Who are you talking to, Angel?”

“Shit,” I yelled, slamming my head on my bedside table. “Has
anybody
ever heard of knocking?”

He stood in the doorway, casually leaning against the frame and evaluated me. He looked so big in my small room. His exam started at my sequined Converse, which made him smile, to my jeans, which made him raise an eyebrow, to my camisole, where he stopped. I suppose he decided to take a break and stare at my girls. I felt my nipples harden under his gaze and quickly crossed my arms over my chest. He grinned.

“Why are you here?” I asked him. I sat up and pulled some of my comforter around me.

“For you,” he said.

“I don’t need you,” I snapped. God, what in the hell did my hair look like? I’d transported twice, watched my mother get eaten, and cried for five or so hours. I couldn’t be looking my best. Wait. Why did I care? I didn’t. I was glad I looked like a piece of crap. He could take that and shove it up his . . .

“You look beautiful,” he said, “and although you may not need me, I need you.”

Damn those mind readers. I must not have shut my brain doors properly.

“You need to go home,” I told him. Flattery was going to get him nowhere.

“I came here because I felt your pain, Angel,” he said, moving into my room. “It almost incapacitated me.”

“You can’t feel my pain.”

He watched and said nothing. I felt trapped in his gaze. This was so not fair. I could feel my desire for him taking over all the rational arguments of why I should boot his ass out.

“I feel everything you feel,” he said, walking to my bed.

“That’s impossible.” I moved to the far side of my bed, putting as much distance between us as I could.

“Nothing is impossible,” he said gently. “You and I are Vampyres. You have an Angel living with you. I sense a Fairy here somewhere, and I can’t quite put my finger on it, but your friend Gemma is not a human. Most importantly, you are the Chosen One.”

“I’m not ready for all this.”

“Ready does not factor into the equation, Angel. Life happens whether we are ready or not—the only choice or control we have is whether or not we will rise to meet its challenges.”

“How’d you get so smart?”

He laughed and sat down on the edge of my bed. “Because I’m five hundred twenty-two years old.” He leaned over and took my hand in his. He started rubbing delicious little circles on my palm. This did not bode well for rational decision making on my part.

“Angel, when I drank from you I took part of you into me. You are inside me. When you feel joy, I feel joy. When you feel sorrow, I feel sorrow. When you feel like your world is being ripped apart . . . ” He paused, letting the sentence finish itself. He watched me closely. “That’s why I came. I came to take care of you. Please let me take care of you.”

“You don’t want me.” Oh. My. God. Was I about to cry?

He sat up. “You have no concept of how much I want you.” His tone and the look in his eyes sent shivers through my body.

“It’s not me that you want,” I insisted.

“What are you talking about?” He was bewildered.

“You don’t want me, you want
the Chosen One
,” I said.

“You’re one and the same,” he laughed, clearly confused by my logic.

Why couldn’t I accept that it didn’t matter why he wanted me? The fact that he wanted me should be enough, but it wasn’t.

“If I weren’t the Chosen One, you wouldn’t want me.”

Now I was crying. Great.

“Oh baby,” he said, gently gathering me to him, “I’d want you even if you were the devil incarnate.”

“Really?” I blubbered.

“Really. I knew from the moment I saw you,” he said, tucking my hair behind my ear and running his thumb along my cheekbone. “You’re so beautiful, so strong,” he whispered, cupping my cheek.

God, this felt so right. I was so small and soft against his hard body. I leaned into his hand and very slowly, very tentatively wrapped my arms around his body. I felt him contract under my hands and heard a soft moan escape his lips. He guided my head to his chest and gently laid us back on the bed. I closed my eyes and breathed him in. I could feel him doing the same.

“What do I smell like to you?” I asked quietly.

“You smell like heaven, like wind and rain. You smell like promise and desire and hope and a little touch of brown sugar.” His voice was husky and I could feel my body tightening. God, he was good. If I weren’t so exhausted from transporting and crying for five hours, I’d be tempted to slip my clothes off, straddle him and make him beg for mercy.

He chuckled, “There will be plenty of time for that,” he said.

Damn it, I think my brain doors have a defect.

“You are mine,” he whispered, running his hand through my hair. “You were meant to be mine. You will always be mine.”

“Aren’t people going to worry about you?” I mumbled, snuggling closer. I could barely keep my eyes open. “Should you go home?”

“I am home, Angel. You are my home,” he said.

I smiled into his chest and fell asleep.

Chapter 18

She was going to die if I didn’t help her. The voice inside the tomb was not weak or sickly. It was strong and melodic and very insistent.

“Astrid, you have to help me,” she begged.

“How do you know my name?” I asked, thrown by the familiarity.

“Because you are part of me,” she replied. “Push the stone, Astrid. Help me, please. You’re the only one.”

“Why does it have to be me? I’m not strong enough,” I insisted. I started to cry. I should get help. Big men . . . or the police . . . or a crowbar.

“You are strong enough,” she said simply. “There’s not much time left.” In that moment I knew she was right. I was strong enough. She was going to die if I didn’t get her out. Now.

I walked slowly toward the tomb, my hands outstretched. I could feel the tingling in my fingertips. It quickly spread down my arms, through my chest and into my legs. My heart was pounding inside me, my stomach felt twisted and it was hard to breathe. The wind picked up and blew my hair wildly around my head. I was inches away.

“Push, Astrid,” she gasped.

I placed both of my hands on the tomb and began to push. The tomb started to crumble under my fingers. The stone turned to cold, hard diamonds . . . beautiful, sparkling sharp ice that sliced into my hands. My hands bled, but I did not stop. I was so close. The blood ran from my hands, down my arms and seeped into the soft white cotton of my shirt. The stunning diamonds were awash in my blood. I knew if I pushed just a little more . . . I could . . . The pain was becoming intolerable. Every nerve ending in my body was on high alert.

That damn dream was getting weirder and weirder, and when in the hell did my bed get so lumpy and hard? Prying my eyes open was an impossibility. I’d cried so much they were fused shut. I rearranged myself and realized my sheets had grown muscles and hair. Really soft, sexy hair and muscles that made my fingertips tingle. It was definitely not the tomb lady.

Feigning sleep, I crawled on top of the hot Vampyre in my bed and noticed two things . . . we were very topless and he was very happy to see me. Hmmm . . . should I stay or should I go? I should go. Definitely go. Right? No, I should absolutely go . . .

I opened my eyes and tried to slide off his body, but his arms were like steel bands keeping me pinned where I was. My very aroused body was having an internal bitch fight with my good girl brain. My body was winning . . .

Wait a freakin’ minute. What in the hell was I doing? Just because he was hot didn’t negate the simple fact he tried to kill me and then he half-Vampyre married me,
without my permission,
in front of six hundred Vampyres. Not to mention I’d had a screaming Big O in front of said Vampyres, ensuring I would not be able to maintain eye contact for years . . . possibly centuries.

He was an egotistical, hot, obnoxious, sexy, bossy ass. I should hump a tree before I did the nasty with him.

But he’s so damn hot . . .

My mind flew back to the graveyard and the visions of what he wanted to do to me. I didn’t think half of it was even legal. A slow heat started between my legs and began to move quickly through the rest of my body. The right corner of his mouth lifted and I knew I was gone. All of the excellent reasons I had come up with vanished. I was staring at the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. I was face-to-face,
not to mention body-to-body
, with every fantasy I’d ever had.

“Hello, pretty girl,” he murmured as he pressed his lips to mine.

My arms, clearly controlled by my raging hormones, found their way around his neck as my lips parted underneath his extremely insistent ones. He moaned his approval as his tongue began a very deliberate exploration of my mouth.

“Wait a minute,” I demanded, untangling my mouth from his. “How did I lose my shirt?”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“So getting me partially naked helped you sleep?” I narrowed my eyes and tried not to focus on his perfectly ripped chest.

“No,” he grinned. “But it made staying awake a lot more fun.”

“You do realize you’re a pervert.”

“Agreed,” he said, cupping the back of my head and drawing my lips back to his.

He was making me dizzy and I tried to pull away, but apparently that wasn’t part of his agenda. He held me firmly against his rock hard body. I couldn’t move if I tried. Squirming would only make the mouthwateringly large problem pressing against my tummy bigger. Anyone else would have received my knee to his man bits, but with him . . . all I wanted to do was press my body even closer.

He slowly made his way from my mouth to my neck.
Ohhh my God.
“Ethan,” I gasped.

“Yes, Angel?” he answered, lightly scraping his fangs along my neck.

I cried out and he flipped me over, pinning me to the bed with my arms over my head.
Damn, that was hot
. All of his hard was pressed against all of my soft. My body jerked underneath his and his eyes went an even more brilliant green. I hadn’t been this turned on . . . well ever. If I could just . . . wait. Small house. Too many people here. Makes me scream. Pam will give me hell . . .

When his mouth moved slowly and deliberately down my body, my brain completely fritzed out, to my body’s delight. My mind was a jumbled mess and my body had hatched its own plan. I arched wantonly toward him. His controlled dominance made my thinking erratic and the slickness between my legs was more than obvious to both of us.

“Look at me,” he said, taking my chin in his large hand and forcing me to stare into his beautiful eyes. “Do you know what you do to me?” he demanded, lowering his lips to mine and kissing me senseless.

I writhed beneath him. His eyes were blazing green and I knew mine matched. He tore his mouth from mine and ran his open lips form my jaw to my breast. My back arched up and his chuckle of delight sent shockwaves right to my core. I had never wanted anyone so badly in my life.

“You are beautiful,” he murmured before taking my painfully hard nipple into his mouth. He drew hard and I whimpered, arched higher, and wordlessly begged for more.

I rubbed myself against his hard, sexy body. I wanted him. I wanted to be controlled by him.

I wanted the decision of becoming his mate and having sex with him taken out of my hands.

I wanted him to force me . . . I wanted to be blameless in a decision I knew I wanted to make. It went against everything I was taught and everything I thought I knew about myself . . . everything I
believed
.

He nipped and sucked until I saw stars. He pressed the lower half of his body into mine, creating a rhythm that made me see Jesus. I felt my fangs descend and I pulled Ethan up by his hair until we were face to face. I slanted my mouth across his and drew his tongue into my mouth. He dug his fingers painfully into my hips and increased the speed of his undulating body. I cried out. It was perfect . . . that mind-numbing sensual place that mixed pleasure and pain.

He groaned into my mouth, cupped the back of my head with one hand and my ass with the other and flipped us over. I wanted to get closer. I wanted to be completely naked and I wanted him inside me, but I wanted more. For the first time, I was conscious of thinking like a Vampyre, not a human. It was scary and liberating.

I slid my lips along his jaw and down his neck. I could feel the blood rushing through his veins. With the tip of my tongue I traced the arteries in his neck, loving the taste of him. My fangs burned and I knew what I had to do. What I wanted to do. What I needed to do. His body tensed beneath mine. Through his jeans, I felt his erection grow bigger.

I scraped his neck with my fangs and his body jerked.

“Angel,” he moaned.

I laughed and lightly punctured his neck with my fangs, without drawing blood. I loved the sound his skin made when I bit into him. It popped. It was different from Pam or The Kev or Gemma. It was right. I knew it with every fiber of my being. As my body writhed on top of his, I reached down and ran my hand up and down the length of him. He was beautiful and mine. I moved in to take what I wanted.