A Fashionably Dead Christmas Read online

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.”

  Ethan was a crafting disaster. My sexy man could take down an army of Demons, but apparently he couldn’t wrap a gift.

  “It’s part of the fun,” I insisted as I sat down on the floor next to him.

  I didn’t lift a finger to help. It was far too much fun to see that he wasn’t good at everything. His grumble of displeasure made me grin.

  “Do you like the decorations?” I asked as I moved behind him and massaged his broad muscular shoulders.

  “They’re very… colorful,” he replied with a chuckle. His head fell back on his shoulders as he groaned with pleasure. “We’ve never had anything quite like it at the Cressida House before.”

  “Then you had no clue what you were missing,” I told him as I pulled lightly on his hair.

  “Do that again,” he said in a husky voice that made my girlie parts wake up.

  “What's this?” I patted his back like he was a dog and scooted away with a laugh.

  “Nope, this,” he said.

  He moved quicker than the speed of light and pinned me beneath him. I gasped and giggled as the wrapping paper that wasn’t crunched up under me flew all over the room. His lips found mine and all thoughts of the massive list of Christmas duties I hadn’t finished disappeared. I was home in his arms and everything else could simply wait.

  “Tell me, beautiful girl… why is all of this this so important to you?” Ethan murmured against my lips.

  “Because,” I said, avoiding the question.

  “Because why?” he asked as he pulled back with a curious look in his eyes.

  Should I tell him? Was it silly? “Because—I don’t know,” I said as I reached for him and tried to get his mind back on some afternoon nookie.

  “Astrid—tell me. I want to understand. You’ve slaved over invitations, decorations, presents, and God only knows what else. You even forgot about Thursday night closet sex,” he teased with arched brows and a sexy lopsided grin. “Completely unacceptable.”

  “Well, I can make up for that right now,” I purred as I wiggled suggestively underneath him.

  “No. We’ll get to that in a moment,” he promised as he smiled and pressed his forehead to mine. “I am a very selfish man, Astrid. I want your body, your mind, your soul, your thoughts, and your love. I need to know all your wishes and dreams—I want to make them come true.”

  “That kind of sounds the opposite of selfish,” I corrected the man I would happily die for.

  “Trust me, I’m selfish and possessive. However, you’re stuck with me,” he growled.

  “Back at ya, sexy pants.” I giggled as I tried once again to have my pornographic way with him, but it was a no go.

  “Talk to me,” he urged.

  “Fine,” I huffed. Clearly I wasn’t going to get laid until I came clean.

  Shitmonsters.

  “It’s because most of my Christmases sucked as a child. My mother didn’t believe in trees or presents. She told me Santa was a lie when I was four. It wasn’t until my Nana was around that I even understood what the Hell that Christmas really meant.”

  The sadness and concern on Ethan’s face made me uncomfortable.

  “No worries. I’m over it,” I told him as I traced his lips with my finger. “Ten years of therapy fixed me up good. Now I just want all of Samuel’s memories to be beautiful—to be special. I want him to come home for the holidays after he’s grown because they were so fucking awesome when he was a child. I want him to recognize the ornaments from year to year. I want him to have lots of family around that loves him. I want him to roll his eyes at the massive collection of Baby Jesuses I have.”

  “How many do you have?” Ethan asked as he gently tucked my wild dark hair behind my ear.

  “Fourteen as of today,” I told him and waited for him to laugh.

  He didn’t. He simply stared at me like I was a miracle.

  “I think this extraordinary effort is for you too, my love.” He pressed his lips to my forehead.

  “No, I’m really over all that crap from my past… ” I started.

  “Shhhh… ” he hushed me with a smile. “I think it’s all good and that next year I will decorate with you. I will master this thing called wrapping presents and I will buy you hundreds of Baby Jesuses.”

  “You will?” I whispered.

  “Yes. I will,” he vowed.

  “I’m kinda wildly in love with you at the moment,” I said with a silly grin.

  “Back at ya, sexy ass.”

  “You wanna know something else?” I asked.

  “Do I?”

  “Yep, you definitely do,” I told him.

  “Then out with it.”

  “I’ve never done the nasty under a Christmas tree,” I whispered as both of our gazes slowly turned from gold to green with desire.

  “We could get busted,” he said as his tongue traced my collarbone and sent shivers all through me.

  “We could make it a quickie. I’m not wearing panties,” I informed him.

  He groaned and let his head fall back on the marble floor with a thud. “You could tempt a dead man.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m trying to do.”

  “I suppose I could make your Christmas wish come true,” he replied with mock exhaustion.

  “Don’t put yourself out for me,” I said as I ground my hips into his very happy camper.

  Slowly he slid my around-the-house sexy little red Prada sweater dress up over my bottom and cupped my rear end with firm and educated hands. I was the luckiest undead girl in the world.

  My hand found its way into his jeans and I grasped my prize. I sank my fangs into his neck and his body tightened with need. His moan sent my lower region into overdrive.

  “Should we lock the door?” Ethan asked as he made short work of his shirt.

  His fangs had dropped and I quickly whipped my dress over my head. I’d learned the hard way that with a toddler you had to move fast. Maybe I should leave my dress on. It would be easier to pretend we were just wrestling if we got caught.

  Nah. I was freakin’ horny and wanted the whole shebang. Pun intended.

  “That door doesn’t lock… and anyway Sammy’s napping. If we… ”

  “Me can put chair in front of door,” Samuel announced happily from the entryway. “Can me play too?”

  “Holy shitbuckles,” I squealed as I accidentally kneed Ethan right in his man jewels.

  I’d never dressed so quickly in my life. Ethan rolled away with his nuts now residing somewhere in his stomach. I hopped up so fast that I went flying into a chair.

  “Shitbuckles,” my child yelled gleefully.

  From my sprawled position over the chair, I closed my eyes and groaned. I was trying so fucking hard not to swear in front of him, but this situation merited a few naughty words.

  “Hi, little guy,” Ethan croaked out in a tight voice.

  He was still in the fetal position on the floor and I felt awful.

  “It was an accident,” I whispered to him. “I love your balls. I would never harm them.”

  His pained chuckle was a relief. I hoped to God I hadn’t damaged his spectacular package too much. I was going to need it as soon as we could find a room with a lock.

  “Mommy thought you were napping,” I said as I righted myself and yanked my dress down over my naked ass.

  “Me was… and then Gamma Gigi called,” Samuel explained as he tore across the room and jumpe
d into my open arms. “She come and play tonight! And she say she got me big present.”

  “No, baby. Gigi comes tomorrow—on Christmas day—like everyone else,” I told him as I cuddled my little man on the couch.

  I kept my arms around him so he couldn’t dive bomb his still recovering father.

  “Mommy, mommy, mommy,” Samuel said with a shake of his head so reminiscent of Ethan I had to giggle. “Gigi say she change her plans! Her and Uncle Devildude come tonight.”

  I was no longer giggling. I was freaking.

  Gigi, my grandmother, was better known to the world as Mother Nature—the most beautiful insane woman in the Universe. Her tantrums were legendary along with her pole dancing skills. And Uncle Devildude was Satan—both my uncle and a high maintenance pain in the ass. Yes, he was lovely to behold, but he was also a shifty troublemaker.

  This couldn’t be happening. I still had presents to wrap—well, not wrap—I was less adept than Ethan was at that. Instead, I’d bought festive bags with semi-clad Santas on them from a naughty online site. I’d bought sweet bags too—for the more pious side of my family. I couldn’t imagine Uncle God or Cousin Jesus finding Santa’s butt cheeks amusing.

  And I had to get food in for those that ate and the blood laced scotch for those who didn’t.

  Shitshitshitshit. It would just figure the craziest part of my family would arrive early.

  “Mother fu… bar… blobbityflonk,” I stuttered, swallowing the words I truly wanted to use.

  These days Samuel was cursing like a sailor and I had no one to blame but myself… well and Pam… and very possibly the Baby Demons.

  “Me will name my baboon—Blobbityflonk,” Samuel told me with a sly grin.

  “Honey, I love you more than anything in the whole world, but you are not getting a goddaaaauurrn baboon for Christmas. Baboons need jungles to live in,” I said grateful for my second save of the afternoon.

  “No prowblem,” Sammy said as he raised his chunky little arms in the air.

  “No!” Ethan said sternly. He gingerly stood and gently placed Samuel’s arms back at his sides. “You cannot turn the Cressida House into a jungle. Vampyres like rooms with furniture and bedrooms.”

  “Okay,” Samuel said, dejected by his father’s commands. “Me no make jungle.”

  “Good boy,” I said as I hugged him tight. “Can you go play with Venus for a little while? I need to prepare for the rude mother fuckers who plan to arrive before they were invited.”

  “Yes, Mommy. Should me change my clothes for the wude mother fuckers?” he asked seriously as he examined his Star Wars t-shirt and matching underoos.

  I slapped my hand over my offensive mouth. Ethan just shook his head and winced. I was a potty-mouthed menace and should be punished. Only problem was, there was no time.

  “Why don’t you simply put on some pants?” Ethan suggested. “That should be good enough.”

  “Okay. Me can do that.” Samuel nodded as he scampered out of the room. He paused at the door. “Mommy do you need me underpants?”

  “Um… no. Why?”

  “Because you forget yours. Me saw your butt when me came in.”

  Ethan’s bark of laughter made me want to knee his nuts all the way to his esophagus. The only thing that stopped me was my generous, underpants-sharing little boy who was still waiting for my answer. Plus I was sure it would be bad parenting to have him witness the castration of his father.

  “It’s okay. I’m good,” I mumbled. “I’ve got plenty of underpants in my room.”

  “Don’t worry, Mommy. Me forget to put on underpants sometimes too.”

  “Thank you, baby. That makes me feel much better,” I said as Ethan tried unsuccessfully to hide his laughter. “Go play now. I’ll come get you when Gigi and Satan get here.”

  He blew us a wet sloppy kiss and toddled off.

  “I didn’t think this day could get any worse than bruised testicles and blue balls,” Ethan muttered. He was still grinning about my naked ass being busted by our son.

  “Trust me it can… and it’s probably going to.”

  I stood and reluctantly made my way upstairs to our bedroom. Going commando wasn’t working out like I thought it would anyway. Time to put on some big girl panties and pull them up.

  Hell’s finest was due to arrive on my doorstep any minute now.

  Chapter 3

  “Ethan? What is this?” I called out as I stared at the mesh basket looking thingie that hung from the ceiling of my closet. It was attached to a thick elastic band and bounced as I tugged on it.

  My closet was my sacred space. It was off limits to all but me, except Ethan was allowed in for Thursday night closet sex. It was stupidly huge—bigger than the living room of my old house. I freakin’ loved it. Occasionally, when Ethan was away on business killing stuff, I slept on the floor of my ostentatious Prada filled closet.

  Initially, I felt guilty about indulging in such a lavish lifestyle, but I figured out a way to live with it. Vampyres were rich—rich beyond anyone’s wildest imagination. Apparently, the undead knew how to invest and the bastards were older than dirt.

  If I had to take a guess, I’d have to say Vampyres owned fifty percent of the world’s properties—not to mention they hadn’t missed out on the technology boom or any other boom that had taken place in the last few hundred years. Most Vamps changed their name every eighty years or so and left their considerable and ever-growing fortunes to themselves.

  Sooooo… in order to live with myself and all my new stuff, I cut a deal. The bargain made me quite unpopular in the bloodsucker community. However, being a True Immortal, and mated to the Prince of the North American territories, I had some pull.

  And I didn’t give a rat’s ass if the snooty dead fuckers liked me or not.

  I simply needed them to respect me or at the very least fear me.

  Mostly, I had that base covered. I was half Demon-half Vampyre. I was related to Satan for God’s sake—and God too. My family tree was totally fucked up, but it afforded me an absurd amount of leeway.

  Furthermore, I had enough power to take out a medium sized country without blinking an eye.

  When I suggested to the undead of the world that all Vampyres with a net worth over ten billion donate half of their income to charity, I received death threats. The irony was an eye roller. Since no one seemed to be on-board except my friends and family, I went to an undead guy business summit and redecorated about ten Vamp owned properties—massive properties—all now permanently hot pink. Several I leveled to dust to make sure my argument was being heard. The only thing most Vampyres understood was violence, so I obliged them by demonstrating my own massive ability to wreck havoc. It only took four properties, a fleet of ships, and three now purple 747 airplanes to make my point.

  I was insanely pleased with the results of my efforts, although it meant I’d had to watch my back constantly.

  Even though I was almost impossible to kill, I liked my appendages and didn’t want to have to grow any back.

  “Ethan, did you hang something ugly in my closet?” I called out again.

  “What? Hell no,” he said as he warily entered my domain. “I never go within twenty feet of your closet. I value my life.”

  “Then what is that?” I demanded as I yanked on the elastic band that the contraption was attached to. It bounced like a ball and made a weird squeaky sound.

  “I have no clue,” he said as he examined it. “It looks like some sort of uncomfortable bobbing swing.”

  “Motherhumpinshitballsonfire! Incoming,” an unwelcome and very familiar voice shrieked at ear shattering levels. The body belonging to the voice appeared in a rather violent cloud of glittering pink and silver smoke causing all to cough up part of a lung. “Merry Christmas, kids! It’s an Egyptian Fuck Basket, also known as the Tijuana Ball Busting Twist-o-Rama Fornication Machine!”

  A bolt of royal blue lightning followed the alarming entrance and struck entirely too close for comfort
. Adrenaline kicked in and I sprinted in terror right into my formerly neat pile of Prada and Chanel purses. I hit the wall with a loud thud.

  “Son of a bitch, what did I tell you about making outdoor weather happen inside my house?” I shouted from beneath my overly protective and very heavy mate.

  Ethan had thrown himself on top of me for my safety. Pulling a rather large Prada tote off of his head, he hissed with displeasure. He also looked like he wanted to kill something—mainly my grandmother.

  “Can’t breathe here,” I grunted as I pushed on him.