Fashionably Dead (21 page)

He moaned and drew my head back to his neck. All I could focus on was his skin . . . the breathtakingly beautiful, smooth pale skin on his neck. The place I would bite him and drink from him and make him mine. Mine. Mine for eternity. It was so clear to me. I had never wanted anything so much. I would mark him and finish what he started . . .

Wait
.

I gasped and jerked back. What in the hell was I doing? Just because my lady bits were on fire didn’t mean I should make a decision that would last a lifetime . . .
a really long lifetime
. Would I be doing this if I wasn’t half naked? Or if he wasn’t so freakin’ hot? Was I about to let my need for an earth-shattering orgasm dictate the rest of my undead life? Um . . . yes. Yes, I was.

“I can’t,” I said. I rolled off of Ethan and buried my head in my hands.

“You’re right.”

“No, Ethan, I really can’t . . . wait. What?”

“You’re correct. As much as it pains me . . . and it does,” he said, referring to the unavoidably large bulge in his pants, “this is not how it should happen.”

“So, I guess you don’t want me,” I teased.

“Oh, I want you,” he moaned and chuckled. His green eyes glittered dangerously. My insides jumped, not with fear but with lust, and I wondered if I had been an idiot not to claim him. “Letting you pull away from me was the most difficult thing I’ve done in all my years.”

“First of all, you didn’t let me do anything. I did it myself,” I informed him. “I just didn’t think you were that into it.”

He pulled me into his body and pressed me against some hard evidence to the contrary.

“I’m into it, Angel,” he grinned, “but more importantly, I know that you’re into it.”

“Am not,” I laughed, trying to get out of his embrace.

“Are too,” he said, grabbing me and trapping me underneath him. “Just because you can’t bite me yet,” he informed me with an evil twinkle in his eyes, “doesn’t mean I can’t bite you.” He leaned into my neck.

“Not fair,” I screeched, trying to wrestle him off of me.

“So not fair,” he agreed, “but so going to happen.” He grinned as his fangs elongated.

I gasped in total delight, struggling only to entice him further.

“What in the fuck is going on in there?” Pam bellowed from the hallway.

“Could you hear that?” I asked him.

“Yes.” He had the strangest expression. “Who was that?”

“My Angel, Pam,” I said. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” he paused, “I just had a . . . I think . . . ”

A flash of pained confusion passed his face, and then it was gone.

“It’s nothing,” he smiled and shook his head. “Probably the blue balls I feel coming on, damaging my brain.”

I laughed and kissed him. “So, what are we doing?” I asked.

He considered me and my question for a moment. A slow, sexy smile spread across his beautiful face. “We’re going to get to know each other and I shall court you.”

I grinned. “Court me?”

“Yes, Angel . . . court,” he proudly informed me.

“Um, Ethan,” I said and rolled my eyes, “you’re kind of showing your age.”

“Yes,” he grinned. “I am.”

“Are we
courting
exclusively?” I asked with narrowed eyes.

“I don’t know.” He watched me carefully. “Are we?”

“If this is going to be fair, it shouldn’t be exclusive,” I told him.

“Are you seeing someone else?” His eyes flashed green and I saw a streak of possessiveness that scared the hell out of me and turned me on with a vengeance.

“Nooo,” I said, messing with him, “but I might. I’m new to this whole Vamp thing. I don’t even know what’s out there yet.”

He did not like that. I watched the muscle in his jaw clench. He controlled his jealousy, but with effort. God, he was so easy to bait. I could twist him in knots.

“Well, Astrid, I suppose if you don’t mind watching me with other women . . . we can do it your way.” He crossed his arms over his naked chest and waited for my hissy fit.

“I don’t mind at all,” I lied through my teeth. If he thought I was going to throw a fit in front of him, he had another thing coming. I would simply wait until he left. I grabbed my shirt with shaking hands and yanked it on. What in the hell was going on? Why was I so furious at the thought of him with someone else? Not just furious . . . murderous. “It’s probably a good idea. I really don’t think we’re suited anyway. So you should just go get laid by a bunch of Vampyre floozies and I’ll . . . ”

Faster than I could blink, he was on me. I was flat on my back, trapped under the man I wanted to be trapped under.

“Astrid, the only Vamp I want to get laid by is you. And I’m quite sure the only Vamp you want to get laid by is me.”

“Someone’s a little full of himself,” I snapped.

He gave me a lopsided grin and my insides melted. Just the sight of him was a punch to my gut and my heart. Crap.

“This will be fun, Astrid. I look forward to winning you. And make no mistake . . . I will.”

He leaned in and kissed my very willing, traitorous lips and left. I tried to find my voice, but it was gone. I wanted him to win . . . I think. But he was going to have to work very hard.

Chapter 19

Wandering around the art room at the senior center, I tossed out all the clay phalluses and boobs. Didn’t want to scare my potential replacement. The interviews were going to start in thirty minutes. I’d never interviewed anybody in my life. Ready or not, I had to grow up. Why in the hell they wanted me to interview my replacement was beyond me.

I didn’t want to quit but I had a few new issues . . . Daylight was a problem, although not as much as it was initially. Apparently my body behaved like a five to six hundred year old Vamp. Sunlight sensitivity wears off with age and it was becoming less of an issue for me, even though I’d only been dead for a month. That pissed Venus off to no end. Even with her black skin, she burned like paper in a fire when she was exposed to the sun.

The main reason I couldn’t teach anymore was time. As an Elite Guard I had to train day and night. Ethan was hell-bent on preparing me for whatever the Chosen One was supposed to do, although no one seemed to know exactly what that was. Turns out, training was for my own safety as well as the safety of everyone around me. Certainly my weapon skills had a long way to go.

For instance, if you threw a dagger it shouldn’t end up embedded in the head of someone on your team. I was sure Cathy thought I did it on purpose. I solemnly swore on my life that it was an accident. Not a good way to become friendly with someone who already hated me. Thank God we were Vampyres, because a human wouldn’t have lived through that one. Apparently the Chosen One had to know how to do it all. Not that they believed I was the Chosen One. Hell, I wasn’t even completely convinced.

If I were them, I would be skeptical too, but I had no intention of proving anything to anybody. Ethan and Venus knew my particulars. Neither one had felt it necessary to enlighten anyone. Fine by me. And good God, I had new powers emerging every day. Ethan and Venus didn’t know the half of it. The Kev and Pam wanted me to keep some of it under wraps.

“Damn it,” I muttered, finding a full scale clay model of male genitalia sitting on my desk. I quickly shoved it in a drawer. “Holy shit, what is that?”

Under my desk was a large pile of what appeared to be dog poop. Charlie had one hell of a sense of humor . . . I hoped. I crawled under my desk. It didn’t smell and God knew I had a bionic nose. I was loath to touch it just in case it was real but petrified . . . It wasn’t real. Damn Charlie, I was going to get him back for this one.

“Excuse me,” a child called out. “Is anyone here?

Oh crap, a child? A child was here to teach art to a class of penis-loving seniors? Maybe if I stayed under my desk she’d leave.

“Hello?” she said. “Hello? Anyone here?”

I waited.

“Hello?” She was getting louder. She was not giving up. This child did sound vaguely familiar. She smelled like insecurity and sadness—not dangerous at all. She was lonely. I crawled out from under my desk with a big smile plastered on my face.
Wait. Where in the hell did she go?

“Astrid?” a tiny voice said from behind me. How did someone get behind me? I was a Vampyre for Christ’s sake. I whipped around and came face to face with the child—
well, kind of
since
she was about seven inches shorter than me. It was Paris Hilton.

“Holy shit, Paris,” I gasped. “You about scared the life out of me.”

“That’s not possible.” Paris Hilton chuckled at her own joke. “You’re already dead.”

She slapped me on the back and I went flying. Damn, she was strong. I righted myself before I took down a huge pile of charcoals and paint and turned to find her prostrate on the ground before me.

“Oh for God’s sake, get up,” I told her.

“You are the Chosen One,” she said reverently, not budging.

“Chosen shmozen. Get your ass up,” I barked. “Why are you here?”

“I want to teach art. My specialty is pastels, but I adore sculpture and watercolor, too.”

“You do realize these are seniors in the class?”

“Oh yeah, I love old people,” she said, pulling on her straggly black hair.

“What do you mean by that?” I asked, worried.

“What do you mean,
what do I mean
?” She was confused.

I felt bad saying it, but I liked most of the class and I had a responsibility to them. “Well, um . . . I mean, do you like them or do you
like
them?”

Shit, I was starting to sweat.

“Oh, I get it,” Paris giggled. “You mean will I eat them?”

“Yes,” I shouted, both relieved that she figured it out and frightened of what her answer would be.

“No,” she assured me, “old folks don’t taste so good.”

“Great. Good to know.”

“So do I get the job?” she asked.

“Okay, here’s the deal,” I said, eyeing her narrowly, “you got Charlie who likes to touch all women inappropriately. You got Niecey, who stands about four feet tall and is secretly in love with Charlie the Ass Grabber. Mrs. Jenkins is a bulldozer who likes to make whips and handcuffs out of clay. Charlie usually sticks to boobs. Niecey can’t help herself but create out of proportion replicas of the male anatomy. There’s a hilarious gal in the back whose name I can’t remember and she likes to throw art supplies. But . . . the main problems are Martha and Jane. They are horrible, nasty, mean women. I’m unclear why they even come to the class, but they do. They’ve made my life a living hell for several years and they will do the same or worse to you.” I stared at her long and hard. “How would you deal with all that?”

“Hmmm,” Paris said thoughtfully. “I suppose I’d have Charlie model nude for the class. That would keep him away from the privates and Niecey might have a better chance of sculpting a more realistic penis. I’d make sure the gal in the back never works with knives or scissors since she is fond of launching things. I’d let Mrs. Jenkins think she’s in charge, and as for Martha and Jane . . . Are they conservative, or religious?” she asked.

“Both.”

Paris grinned happily. “That’s easy! I’d trance them into only being able to utter liberal or sacrilegious statements.”

“Oh my God, can you really do that?” I asked, impressed.

“Hell yeah. I could also zap them bald.”

“Great! You’re hired,” I said, praying to Jesus I wasn’t making a huge mistake. Paris was so excited she grabbed me in a bear hug so tight I was sure she was breaking every bone in my upper body.

“Let go,” I gasped.

She did. I fell to the ground in agony.

“Oh my God,” she shrieked, “I am so sorry. I got excited and I . . . oh God.” She dropped to a fetal position and began to roll around on the floor. I momentarily forgot my own pain and watched the most bizarre reaction to anything I’d ever seen in my life.

“Um . . . Paris,” I said.

“Yes?” She stopped rolling and looked at me.

“Are you gonna do that if something goes wrong in class?”

“Um . . . no?” she asked.

“No,” I told her. “Under no circumstance can you ever do that around the seniors.”

She was shocked, “Really?”

“Really,” I replied, beginning to wonder if I was high.

“Another thing,” I continued, “if you physically destroy the classroom, I will kick your ass from here into the next century.”

“Good to know . . . good to know,” she told me without an ounce of sarcasm.

“Oh, and Muffy is not allowed in here. Ever.” I could just imagine the shit storm that would ensue if the Muffster showed up.

“You don’t have to worry about her. She can’t go out in the sun at all.”

“You can?”

She nodded. I was surprised. She was only about ninety or so in Vamp years.

“I can tolerate it quite well,” she said with pride.

“So the Vamps that changed you and your . . . comrades . . . were really old?”