A Fashionably Dead Christmas: Hot Damned Series, Book 5 Read online

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

  “We’re Vampyre’s. We never breathe,” Ethan muttered as he rolled off of me.

  “I believe you said it would force you to shove my favorite dancing pole up my ass,” Mother Nature said calmly as she slapped my mate on the ass. Then she stepped over the menagerie of fallen purses to test out her obscene gift. “Which, by the way, is a rude thing to say to your grandmother.”

  “And you scaring the shit out of me isn’t?” I snapped.

  My mate was eyeing the exit. That was not working for me. I didn’t want to be left alone with the crazy lady. However, she was my grandmother—not his.

  “Darling, Vampyres don’t use the facilities—no interior plumbing. I don’t see what the biggie is,” she replied with a perplexed shake of her fiery red curls.

  Mother Nature’s beauty was unparalleled. She knew it and enjoyed it immensely. Her eyes were the clearest blue I’d ever seen and her skin glowed—pale smooth porcelain. This evening she wore yards and yards of sparkling lavender tulle with a blue flowered trim that matched her eyes perfectly. Sapphires covered every conceivable place a jewel could fit. She was a gaudy, gorgeous masterpiece.

  “True,” I muttered as I prayed for control. “So why exactly did you think I needed a hide-the-salami bucket?”

  “Everyone needs a Boink Basket to keep the home fires burning,” she explained.

  “Holy Hell,” Ethan grumbled. “The day just got worse.”

  “I heard that young man,” Gigi hissed. She turned on him with narrowed eyes and hands on her hips.

  Ethan just grinned and winked disrespectfully. My grandma ate it up and giggled like a school girl. His pretty face and fine ass kept him out of worlds of trouble.

  Young was pushing it. My sexy Vamp was over five hundred years old, but I suppose age was relative when dealing with a nutty woman who’d been around since the beginning of time.

  The smirk Ethan shot my way almost made me ask Gigi how to use the damn thing, but I wasn’t that much of a masochist.

  “Wait,” I shouted.

  Everyone froze.

  “Did you know Nancy Regan was a Vampyre,” I asked my grandmother.

  “Of course, dear,” she replied as if I’d just asked a ridiculous question. “You’d be surprised how many of you are out there.”

  That was certainly something unsettling to chew on…

  “Anyhoo, back to business. Astrid, you sit in it and Ethan will lie underneath—naked. Of course you need to twist the rubber band so you spin like a top. The result is positively orgasmic and mind blowing. However, I’d suggest Brazilians for both of you before attempting it. Trust me on that. Your grandfather, Bill, had a few painful issues after our first ride in one,” Gigi explained gleefully.

  Clearly, no need to ask for directions.

  “Sweet Hell on Earth,” a considerably paler Ethan said tightly, as he made his way out of my closet. “I’ll just check on Samuel.”

  “He’s fine,” Gigi assured us. “He’s playing with his new baboon.”

  “What?” I shouted. Sparks flew from my fingertips and burned a hole in the gorgeous red Stella McCartney sheath I’d been planning to wear Christmas Day.

  Both Ethan and Mother Nature dove for cover. I silently stared at the smoldering tragedy. I was certain my lack of vitriolic swearing was what made them burrow even deeper into my sweater collection. Nonverbal communication wasn’t really in my repertoire and I was actually scaring myself. It had taken me a month of transporting between Paris and Milan before I’d found the perfect dress—and now it was toast… or toasted to be more accurate.

  “I think I can fix it.” Mother Nature’s muffled whisper came from somewhere hidden beneath my shoe shelf.

  “You sew?” I inquired tersely.

  “Not exactly, but I’m good with a glue gun and sequins,” she offered.

  For a moment I considered finding a paper bag and breathing into it to avoid the panic attack that was impending and then I remembered I didn’t breath—fucking awesome.

  “You know what?” I said through clenched teeth. “It’s just a dress. I have other dresses. I’ll wear something else. We need to go save my son from the baboon. Now.”

  “He’s harmless. I made sure of that,” Mother Nature promised. “The baboon I brought for Samuel wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  I swallowed the 734,658,746 word long stream of nearly endless profanity I wanted to utter and stayed calm.

  However, my adult behavior was clearly taking its toll as my power crackled and hissed around me. And that’s when I realized my control had slipped anyway because I’d set the entire closet on fire.

  “Run,” Mother Nature screamed as she doused the fire with magic. The water blasted down from the ceiling in the form of a monsoon, destroying everything the flames might have missed.

  “Fuckshitsonofabitchbuttholes,” I screamed as I watched every piece of clothing I owned get drowned beyond repair.

  Running around my closet like a loon, I tried hunching over some of my favorites to save them, but it was too late.

  “Oh my Heavens and Hell,” Gigi wailed. She halted the rainstorm then grabbed a Dolce and Gabanna ball gown and attempted to squeeze the water out of it. “I’m so sorry, Astrid. I shall take you on a shopping spree this very moment. We can go to New York, or Europe—wherever you want. I have ins with everyone… and just think, you can have all next year’s styles before they come out.”

  That gave me pause… because as much as I’d grown as a person, I was still a materialistic Prada whore. My grandma knew me well.

  “Really?” I asked in a small voice.

  “Yes, absolutely,” Gigi promised fervently, wringing her hands. “Whatever you want. I feel horrible that I caused this. It’s the very least I can do for my favorite granddaughter—well you’re tied with Dixie for that honor—but whatever. The rest of them can rot in Hell.”

  “Exactly what they’re doing,” I mumbled.

  Gigi’s other granddaughters were The Seven Deadly Sins—daughters of Satan and cousins of mine along with my beloved Dixie—who wasn’t a sin at all. The Sins were Facebook obsessed narcissists and fairly evil to the core. A few had even tried to kill me.

  “You’re correct as always, dear,” Gigi said. “Shall we go shopping now?”

  “As much as it pains me to say no—and it truly pains me,” I said as I stared morosely at my closet full of worthless clothing, shoes and bags. “I don’t have time today. I’ll just wear what I have on.”

  My sweater dress was cute, festive, and only slightly damp from the rainstorm. It would simply have to do. However, I was still without panties. Not good. I refused to ask another female Vampyre in the compound to borrow their grundies. Far too many explanations would have to accompany that request. My son’s underoos would be beyond obscene.

  I really had only one barely acceptable option. It wasn’t pretty, but my naked butt was more unacceptable.

  “Ethan, would you get me a pair of your boxer briefs please?” I asked with closed eyes and a slight wince.

  “Sure. What color?” he inquired.

  I could hear the amusement in his voice, and kept my eyes firmly shut. It would be very un-Christmas like to zap a hole in his ass for laughing at my misery. No, I was going to stay in the holiday spirit even if it fucking killed me, which it might.

  “I think gray would look best with my dress,” I replied tersely.

  “I agree, dear.” Mother Nature nodded her head and then quickly made the international zip the lip motion when I shot her a glare that was evidently frightening to even the oldest of the immortals.

  Marching out of what used to be my sacred Dojo, I snatched the underwear out of Ethan’s hands and pulled them on. They were huge—huge enough to fit his man parts and too huge for my ass. Okay. No fucking problem. I was resourceful.

  Grabbing a ponytail holder from the stash on my bedside table, I bunched the excess undie material
in the front and wrapped the elastic band around the wad of fabric. My ass was now safe from most of the world’s eyes. I told myself that was all that mattered.

  “Here’s the deal,” I said in a tone that dared anyone to question me. I was clearly hanging on by a thread. “We are going to Samuel’s room and getting rid of the baboon. Gigi, you will take complete responsibility for this.”

  “Um… okay. What exactly do I tell him?” she asked with pursed lips and arched brows.

  I could tell she was about to throw a fit, but it was abundantly clear my tantrum was closer to the surface. My grandmother, being smart for once, stayed calm-ish.

  “I don’t know. How about you tell him you stole the baboon from the zoo and you’ll go to jail for the rest of eternity unless he’s returned. Just lie,” I snapped.

  “But that’s not a lie,” she mumbled as she dropped her gaze and frantically brushed imaginary lint off of her dress.

  “What do you mean? You fucking stole a baboon from the zoo?” I demanded.

  “Yes. I was running short on time and didn’t want to disappoint him,” she huffed. “You can’t just buy a baboon at Macys, Astrid.”

  “Oh my God,” I moaned and ran my hands through my hair in despair. “Is everyone planning on stealing presents for Samuel for Christmas?”

  “Of course not. You’re Uncle God wouldn’t steal a candy bar,” Mother Nature chastised. “But you should really leave him out of this.”

  “What in the Hell are you talking about?” I snapped.

  “Why? What are you talking about?” she asked perplexed.

  Now I was confused.

  I paused and tried to regroup.

  I looked to Ethan for help, but he just shrugged.

  Never, never again was I hosting a holiday with my family. Never.

  “Okay, let’s just start over here,” I suggested wearily. “The baboon goes though. You take the rap and… ”

  My instructions to her were interrupted by a loud boom. The explosion rocked the mansion and I flew into action in response. Ethan grabbed his sword and tossed me my katana.

  As we ran for the door, Mother Nature’s laugh stopped us cold.

  “Wait. No need for weapons, dear,” she said with a giggle. “It’s not an evil enemy. Well, he is actually evil, but not an enemy.”

  “If you keep speaking in riddles, I’m going to get that pole and shove,” I threatened.

  Gigi’s delighted laugh made me grind my teeth. “Wouldn’t you like to guess who it is?”

  “Would you like to guess how big a pole I intend to use?” I shot back.

  “Fine. Be that way. I’ll just tell you. Satan’s here.”

  Fucking awesome… just when I thought the day couldn’t get any worse.

  “Let’s go greet my Uncle,” I told Ethan.

  “Sure. Can I remove an appendage?” he asked.

  “Maybe. It depends on how much damage he’s done,” I said.

  “Works for me,” Ethan replied as he took my hand and we headed downstairs.

  “Ohhhhhhhhh, this might get interesting,” Gigi sang as she grabbed my free hand and joined us. “Shall I smite his ass if he’s been bad?”

  I smiled my first real smile of the evening.

  “Absolutely. Absofuckinglutely.”

  Chapter 4

  I gaped in dismay at the entire left side of the Great Room. All of my beautiful Christmas decorations were now covered in black glitter which was definitely not one of the colors I’d chosen for my Christmas theme. Satan, dressed in his typical all black Armani, paced in agitation as he ran his hands through his dark hair and muttered to himself.

  “What part of ‘you’re invited for Christmas day’ didn’t you understand?” I asked the rude King of the Underworld.

  Satan stopped short and grinned. Damn, he was something to behold. I rolled my eyes and tried not to laugh. My Uncle’s redonkulously sexy smirk had brought thousands of women to their knees over the years, but not me. He might be pretty, but at the moment he was nothing more than a thorn in my boxer brief clad rear.

  “I’m confused,” he said as he purposely stepped on and crunched a lovely manger scene I’d bought at Target. “Why is it most of the civilized world celebrates my nephew’s birthday and no one celebrates mine?”

  Mother Nature’s quick intake of breath was not lost on me.

  “Maybe because Jesus represents goodness and love and you’re just a destructive gaping butthole,” I suggested.

  The shocked look on the Devil’s face was priceless. No one back talked Satan and lived to tell it —except me and his mother.

  “Interesting concept,” Satan replied smoothly as he regained his composure. “However, I must disagree.”

  “Not surprising,” I shot back. “What’s your theory?”

  My uncle stopped pacing and seated himself on the divan. Patting the space to his right, he waited for me to join him. Ethan stiffened and hissed low in his throat. He didn’t trust Satan, and quite honestly as much as I adored my uncle, I didn’t quite trust him either. He was Satan after all.

  I squeezed Ethan’s hand and released it. It was time to give the Devil his due. Not because he deserved or had earned it—nope, I was going to humor him so he didn’t coat the rest of my festive room in deathly black.

  “He has songs,” Satan complained as I seated myself.

  “Who has songs?” I asked.

  “Jesus has songs,” he huffed and threw his hands in the air. “I want songs too.”

  I pulled my dress down as I realized the fucking monsoon in my closet had shrunk it. It was dry clean only. Pressing my lips together so I didn’t spew obscenities at the Devil, I decided to treat him like a child because he was certainly behaving like one.

  “Now I’m confused. What are you talking about?” I inquired calmly as I yanked on my hem some more.

  “Silent fucking Night. Away In A Damn Manger. O Holy Goddamned Night. The list goes on and on,” he whined as he stood up and flailed his arms. “I need a song.”

  “Um… ” I said, trying not to laugh. “Do you have any in mind?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do,” he replied curtly. “I think Running With The Devil is catchy and Sympathy For The Devil would work in a pinch.”

  “How about The Devil Wears Prada or Happy Holidays You Bastard?” I suggested.

  “Are those real songs?” Satan asked, intrigued as he stood and resumed his pacing.

  “Yep, and then if you’re feeling trans-sexual, there’s Devil In A Blue Dress.”

  “Hmmmm… not sure that would help my reputation with the ladies… not that I need help,” he added with a chuckle.

  “And of course, there’s the really famous, Ding Dong The Devil’s Dead,” I informed him as he got dangerously close to my Christmas tree.

  “Now I know that’s not a real song,” he said as he narrowed his eyes at me.

  On any other day Beelzebub’s squint would have made me quake in my platform shoes—but not today. I was wearing men’s underpants, my dress was slowly but surely shrinking to Barbie size, and there was a fucking harmless baboon somewhere in my house playing with my son.

  Satan’s hissy fit was nothing compared to the volcano inside me that was about to erupt.

  “You are correct,” I said as I stood up and stared him down. “However, it’s going to be the story of your life if you put even one finger on my Christmas tree.”

  “Astrid, did you grow a penis?” my Uncle asked, forgetting his dilemma as he stared in surprise at the unsightly bulge poking out of my ever-shrinking attire.

  “No,” I shouted as he blanched and backed away. “I am wearing Ethan’s underpants and they’re too fucking big, so I cinched them.”

  I glanced down at my lump then violently grabbed and shook it menacingly as both men in the room jack knifed forward as if I’d racked them.

  “And if I’d grown a penis—which is not gonna happen in my lifetime—it would be a Hell of a lot bigger than this.”
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  “Just clarifying,” Satan whispered as he bit down on his lips, trying to stifle his mirth.

  “If you laugh at me, I swear I’ll remove your pecker,” I threatened as black sparkling glitter began to cover my arms in preparation for a beheading—pun intended.

  “Oh Sweet Hell on Earth,” Mother Nature cut quickly in before I castrated the Devil. “Don’t do that, Astrid. He defines himself by that thing. We might be looking at the end of the world if you make your uncle a castrado. Besides, removing a penis is not very Christmassy.”