Fashionably Forever After Page 3

  Glancing up at my favorite bartender with a newfound respect, I grinned. “Do you like your job, Lizard?”

  “Fucking hate it. Why?”

  “I’m looking for a new agent.”

  “You got another book?” he asked, looking intrigued.

  “No—a movie deal and I’m not pleased with the contract the Gnome negotiated for me.”

  “Your agent is a Gnome? Lizard asked in complete disbelief.

  “Was,” I clarified. “I was using a Gnome for an agent.”

  Apparently hiring a Gnome was going to be as hard to live down as the fact that I occasionally used the word bosom in reference to a woman’s breasts. If I was going to stay relevant I needed to get with the lingo and stop hiring assholes. Or at least hire assholes I enjoyed.

  “Well that was your first problem,” Lizard pointed out correctly.

  “Yes,” I agreed with a chuckle. “How would you like to solve this little dilemma for me?”

  “Can I bring my bat?”

  I paused in thought and then a slow very evil and very attractive smile pulled at my lips. “Sure. Why not?”

  Lizard with a bat in La La Land was going to be a story that just might get me out of my funk. Finally, the future was looking up.

  All I needed now was a little beauty sleep before tomorrow. Actually, I was still beautiful without sleep, but today had frayed my nerves. A little rest would ensure that I would be less apt to behead the denizens of the City of Angels in the morning.

  Hopefully…

  Chapter Three

  “Touch me,” she said.

  Her lavender, gold-rimmed eyes sparkled and her beauty took my breath. Masses of honey blonde hair framed her perfect face and her body would make the Angels on high weep. Her wild blonde hair blew around her face as strong gusts of sensual magic darted around the room. Her presence alone calmed the fury smoldering inside me.

  My black silk brocade bedroom curtains flapped wildly and my heart beat a staccato rhythm in my chest. What game was my Siren playing?

  “This isn’t real,” I said, keeping my hands pressed to my sides with Herculean effort.

  “What’s real and what’s an illusion?” she countered, moving about my room and running her hands over the surfaces of the sleek and modern décor.

  With a snap of her slim fingers, a roaring fire appeared in the massive stone fireplace. The dancing flames illuminated the room, making her glowing amethyst aura burn even brighter. The sheer lavender robe she wore left nothing to the imagination. It was glorious. I, of course, was naked. A fact that was very much appreciated by my surprise, and very welcome, guest.

  The tendrils of the fire intertwined in a macabre sensual tango. The fire was our foreplay. I knew it and she knew it.

  “I’m asleep and I’m dreaming,” I said flatly. As necessary as it was for me to see her—to have her—a small bubble of rage simmered in my gut. How dare she come to me like this. Clearly my Siren was a Dream Walker—rare—but then again so was she.

  “Possibly,” she agreed with a laugh that made my dick hard and my balls tighten to the point of pain.

  “You left me,” I accused watching her every move with greedy eyes.

  If I was asleep, so be it. I’d play Adrielle Rinoa’s game for now. Hell, I always would… no matter how much she lied and cheated because I was a better liar and cheater than she was. Fleeting moments with my Siren, even if I was technically asleep, were better than nothing. It was the nothing that was driving me insane.

  “Yes. I did leave you. This is my battle—not yours.”

  “Tell me where you’re hiding,” I insisted, tamping back my desire to chain her to me and trap her in a cage. The action would be worthless since this was a dream state, but habits were hard to break. I hated not getting what I wanted when I wanted it. Standing my ground took everything I had. My need to move to her and take her in my arms was overwhelming.

  “That was a shifty move you pulled, Lucifer,” she pointed out with a raised brow while ignoring my question.

  “I’m Satan. It’s to be expected.”

  “Yes, well, I need my soul back.”

  “Then I suppose you’ll have to come back to me when I’m awake to get it.”

  “No can do, Mr. Bad Guy,” she said with a giggle. “You’d never let me go… and I wouldn’t want to leave.”

  “Your point?”

  She eyed me with lust and shrugged nonchalantly. “I can go a hundred years without my soul. How long can you go without yours?”

  “Seeing as how I didn’t think I had one until I made the brilliantly devious trade with you, my guess is forever. Although just in case, I’d prefer that you take good care of my soul, Siren.”

  “Your soul is in good hands,” Elle promised.

  “As is yours,” I replied. “However, I can think of a few other things I’d like to do with my hands and mouth—and other parts of me.”

  “You don’t say…” she whispered coyly with excitement in her eyes.

  “Oh, I do say,” I said, moving toward my prey.

  Placing her hand on her heart, Elle stared right into the depths of me. It stopped my forward motion instantly. It was our sign that we had to tell the truth—difficult for both of us as lying was our preferred method of communication.

  “I’m in love with you, Lucifer. That’s why I left. The world will be fine with one less Siren in it. It will not be fine without the Harbinger of Evil. You’re an absolutely horrible deceitful person—you’re gorgeous, dishonest, underhanded, and you didn’t drop dead after we had mind-blowing sex. You’re an asshole with a tremendously bad attitude. You are perfect—for me. And that’s why I left.”

  Raising my hand to my heart, I heard Elle’s sharp intake of breath. “You are a dreadful woman, Adrielle Rinoa and I love you as well. I want to spend every horrible moment for the rest of eternity with you by my side, but you are fucking that lovely scenario up at the moment. Admitting my true feelings isn’t an everyday occurrence for me. However, I do love you and I’m not even appalled to admit it.”

  Elle stared at me with wonder and a sinking feeling consumed me. She wasn’t going to stay. She was never going to stay. Part of me wanted to banish her from Hell this instant. I wanted to throw a fit of unheard of proportions, but I wouldn’t. I would take every single second with her that she would give me, no matter how fucked up it was.

  “It’s a mistake to love each other,” she said sadly. “Even if I succeed in my quest, I can belong to no one but the Winds of Change.”

  “Is that what you think?”

  “It’s what I know,” she said in a strangled whisper. “This will be our lot in life—or immortality so to speak. Will it be enough for you?”

  “For tonight it will be enough,” I said, noncommittally. “Tomorrow we shall see.”

  Elle gazed at me with such longing and sadness, it tore at my cold dead heart. She was wildly incorrect about our future, but right now that was for me to know and for her to discover. I would lie, cheat, kill and steal to get what I wanted.

  And I wanted Adrielle Rinoa—my darkness. And she wanted me. Forever.

  My Siren didn’t stand a chance.

  “Come to me, Siren. Bring me your fire and wash away my sins and I will give you the lust you need to survive,” I said, so very ready to take her body and heart. I already had her soul… and she wasn’t going to get it back until she was here to stay.

  “I thought you’d never ask, Devil,” she purred with a smile so sensual my brain scrambled for a brief moment.

  We were two wrongs that made one disastrously fabulous right.

  Chapter Four

  “Do you happen know if the Jelly Queen is based on a real person? I need to behead her,” I explained, searching the internet on my phone. I was a tad bit off since I’d gotten very little real sleep last night, but I wouldn’t trade that fact for the world on a silver platter… Unfortunately, even in the throes of passion I wasn’t able to get any solid clues
as to where my Siren was hiding but I had a few more dastardly plans up my Armani sleeves.

  “Umm, Uncle Fucker?” Astrid asked, looking at me askance.

  Glancing up absently, I noticed that she and Tiara had dressed for the occasion—black Prada from head to toe. Truly outstanding. We were visiting the City of Angels and it was lovely to see my nieces dressed like Demons.

  “Yes?” I asked.

  “I think you’re losing it. What in the ever loving Hell are you talking about?”

  “Nothing and don’t call me Uncle Fucker. For today it’s Blade Inferno or My Dark Lord,” I replied, giving up my pursuit of the irritating fictional wench. I’d clearly logged far too many hours on Candy Jelly Crush if I’d lowered myself to trying to track down an animated character to kill. “If I’m kept waiting any longer, I’m going to behead the idiots we’ve come to see.”

  “And that’s why we’re here, Uncle Fuc… Blade Inferno Dark Lord Dude,” Tiara said in her high pitched voice, taking my phone from my hand and tucking it into her Chanel bag. “Killing random humans for tardiness is a no-no.”

  “Since when?” I demanded.

  “Since now,” Astrid snapped. “And what’s the deal with him?”

  She pointed at Lizard who sat quietly in a chair, caressing his bat and chewing gum. He was wearing a rather ill-fitting black suit, a navy beret and green high tops. It was just strange enough to work for him. However, I was getting weary of all of my deadliest Demons choosing hideous head wear.

  “He’s my new agent.”

  “You’re shitting me,” Astrid said with a laugh.

  “I shit you not,” I replied. “Lizard, say hello to my nieces. They’re more insane than you are so I’d recommend against using your bat on them unless seeing tomorrow doesn’t appeal.”

  “Roger that,” he grunted, nodding politely to the girls.

  Lizard then promptly ignored the girls and shoved a few more pieces of gum into his mouth. He finished his unappetizing ritual by staring at the wall as if it were going to come alive. For a brief moment I wondered if he knew something I didn’t but then I pushed the ridiculous notion aside. I was Satan. He was Lizard—a very strange Demon with horrifying a fashion sense and bad social skills. I wasn’t too keen on him negotiating my money with a wad of sugary rubber between his teeth, but I assumed the bat would work in his favor.

  “First a Gnome agent, and now a monosyllabic, beret-wearing Demon with a weapon?” Astrid questioned me, pacing the small unimpressive waiting room.

  “Yes, I think it’s fitting. Besides, he said two words, not one and if I don’t get what I deserve no one will leave alive anyway.”

  “Oh my Hell, Mother Nature was right,” Astrid muttered, pulling on her long dark hair. “You need to get laid.”

  Little did she know…

  “Say that again and I will spend one week out of every month for the rest of time at your home starting tomorrow,” I told her with an evil little smirk. “I shall enhance everything you own and the Cressida House will become known as the Undead House of Phallus.”

  “Dude, dude, doooood,” Astrid said with an unladylike grunt of laughter. “Phallus is like bosom—totally outdated. You sound like an old fart.”

  “Tell me,” I said, praying to everything that was evil and closing my eyes in pain. “You did not just call me an old fart.”

  “If the Armani shoe fits…” Astrid shot back with a laugh.

  “Actually,” Lizard said, pulling the pink ball of gum from his mouth and placing it carefully on the tip of his bat for later. “Phallus is a very interesting term.”

  I knew I’d brought him to Los Angeles for a reason. His manners were appalling, but the Demon clearly had my back. Ten points for Lizard.

  “Did you know that phallo photoportaphilla is the urge to put one’s penis in a light socket?” he inquired casually while watching his gum to make sure it didn’t move. “Or that Phalloween is concurrently celebrated with the human tradition of Halloween? You dress your penis up in a scary costume and go door-to-door yelling Schwantz or Schwartz—either is acceptable. I prefer Schwartz, myself. And the topper is phallus booking—the act of shutting the penis in the center pages of a large hard-backed tome with considerable force.”

  Goddamn it, Lizard just lost all the points he’d gained by having my back. I was bent over in phantom pain after that last little tidbit. He was a profane, gum smacking disaster. What the Hell had I been thinking? Astrid and Tiara were completely speechless. Well, at least my man had accomplished something.

  “While that is alarmingly fascinating, I’d prefer that you don’t bring that up during negotiations. If you do, the gum will go where the sun doesn’t shine and will be placed there with the bat. Am I clear?” I asked, pressing the bridge of my nose and reminding myself that disgusting knowledge wasn’t a good enough reason to behead someone.

  With a curt nod and a thumbs up, Lizard popped his gum back into his mouth and resumed staring at the wall. Today couldn’t get much worse.

  “Excuse me,” an uptight human female in a business suit that should have died off with the 1980’s said as she stepped into the cramped waiting area. “Your publicists are here. Should I show them in?”

  My publicists? I didn’t have any fucking publicists unless Lizard had hired some and neglected to tell me. However, his vacant stare at the wall didn’t back that theory. Had Elle changed her mind and come to me in person? She was very aware I’d stolen her soul and given her mine. Maybe going about business as usual was going to result in a goddamned homerun. The thought of her setting me on fire again for the sleight of hand I’d pulled when she’d left made me feel more alive than I had in centuries—or at least since last night when we’d made love encased in sensual flame.

  Things were about to get interesting.

  Or maybe not. My publicist was definitely not Elle.

  Without waiting for an invitation to the party, two of the most irritating Vampyres I’d ever had the displeasure of meeting waddled into the room. The outfits were appalling. Vamps were noted for their style but clearly the gene didn’t take with Martha and Jane. Both were clad in lavender yoga pants with orange halter tops and black orthopedic shoes. The halters were not even remotely flattering to their geriatric figures but neither seemed to give a damn.

  Closing my eyes and pressing my temples, I again reminded myself that bad fashion sense wasn’t a good enough reason for decapitation. Why did everything have to be so difficult lately?

  Astrid, in a moment of weakness—or compassion— had turned the two old women when they’d being dying at her feet. My niece had lived to regret her action daily. The old bags were nightmares. Eventually they would land in my neck of the woods, but it was fine with me for it to be in the very distant future.

  “Well slap my sphincter and call me Sally,” Martha shouted at the human, glancing around the room in disgust. “This is a fucking shit hole. Our boy, Sexy LaTuchus, cannot wait in here. You will find a nicer goddamned waiting room for Blade Inferno or I’ll have to open up a can of whoop ass on you.”

  “What did you just call me?” I asked, dumbfounded.

  Martha winked and blew me a kiss. She was right out of her undead mind. I was the Devil. No one dressed like that blew me kisses and lived to tell about it.

  “Called ya Sexy LaTuchus on account of that fine ass of yours. But I’ve got tons of ‘em. You like Hottie LaButtocks better?” she inquired, grabbing her own sagging ass to illustrate.

  I was stunned to silence.

  “My ugly colleague is motherhumpin’ right,” Jane added to the now shaking human while tucking her sagging bosom back into her halter. “My boy, Foxy Rump, will not be treated in such a shoddy manner. Luscious Caboose is the highest paid fucking romance author in the motherhumpin’ world. You should be kissing his very fine fucking junk in the trunk right now.”

  The human blanched and nodded quickly as she sprinted from the room in terror.

  “What in the ever
loving shit on a stick are you two asshats doing here?” Astrid hissed.

  Martha and Jane circled Astrid and looked her over tsking the entire time.

  “Well, it seems to me, Knockers McBoobyland, that you people have forgotten how connected Jane and I are in the business of show—we won American Idol,” Martha said, gloating. “You need us to make sure Mr. Bitable Buns gets all he deserves. Plus we want to be in the movie.”

  “You won American Idol in Zanthia. Everyone is tone deaf there,” Astrid informed the old women.

  “Your point, Lumpy McChestacon?” Jane demanded.

  Astrid let her chin fall to her chest and she groaned. “Time and time again I have internally bitch slapped myself for turning you imbeciles. You two eighty-nine year old dumbasses have caused more trouble in the short time you’ve been undead than all of Vampyre kind has in hundreds of years.”

  “Don’t really see what age has to do with it, Booby McMilkbomb,” Jane griped. “Just plain humpin’ rude to disclose a broad’s age.”

  “Feeling a little stabby here, Jane,” Astrid informed the old bat as her fingers began to spark menacingly. “You are not publicists and you are not going to be in the movie. Unless you’d like to lose the sparse patches of hair on your heads, I’m gonna suggest you walk your saggy asses right back out that door.”

  “Not real sure that’s your call to make, Melons O’Chesty,” Martha said. “I think Foxy Rump has a say here.”

  All eyes turned to me and for the first time in centuries I was at a loss. They were walking tragedies on spindly legs, but I had to admit I was fond of a couple of those nicknames. However, before I could make a rational or irrational decision, the human reentered the room.

  Not making eye contact with anyone, the harried woman gestured frantically. “Maury and Sal will see you now. Third door down the hall on the right.”

  “Now that’s what I’m talking about,” Martha crowed, putting on some more red lipstick for the meeting.

  Sadly, she missed her lips and her teeth ended up looking like they were a bloody mess.