A Fashionably Dead Christmas
Author: Robyn Peterman
Date: 2015-12-15 08:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Paranormal; Humour; Fantasy; Romance; Holiday; Vampires
Description: This is holiday paranormal romantic comedy novella for your reading pleasure! It’s Christmas at the Cressida House and all Hell is breaking loose. Tree? Decorated and lit. Elf on a Shelf? Seated with style. Baby Jesus on the mantle? Fourteen neatly in a row. Life sized Nutcracker? Creepy, but standing proud. Invitations sent to entire immortal family to celebrate the holiday? Possibly the stupidest damn thing I’ve ever done. Mixing Heaven and Hell on my cousin’s famous birthday seemed like such a brilliant idea. I wanted my baby’s first Christmas to be special—memorable. I’d like chalk my hein
Publisher: Createspace

Table of Contents

Title Page

Edition License Notes

Acknowledgements

Dedication

Author’s Note About This Book

Book Description

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Thank You For Reading

Excerpt: Fashionably Hotter Than Hell

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Happy New Year - Coming In 2016

The Hot Damned Series – Book 7

The Hot Damned Series – Book 8

Book Lists (in correct reading order)

About Robyn Peterman

A Fashionably Dead Christmas

Book 5 of THE HOT DAMNED Series

By

Robyn Peterman

Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should delete it from your device and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is coincidental.

This book contains content that may not be suitable for young readers 17 and under.

Copyright 2015 by Robyn Peterman

Cover by Rebecca Poole, dreams2media

Edited by MYST Partners

Acknowledgements

Writing is a solitary sport, but putting a book out is anything but solitary.

I am so lucky that I have so many talented and generous people around me.

Thank you, Donna McDonald. You are my Mystery Science Theater Partner and the gal who has kept me sane.

Jennifer Madden, you are amazeballs. I would be lost without you. Thank you.

Rebecca Poole, your covers are perfect and your talent is large.

My beta readers, Wanda, Melissa, Susan, Donna and Jennifer. You have saved me from myself numerous times. Thank you.

Wanda, you and your OCD ways have made me a somewhat organized person. You are a gem and I think I will keep you forever!

My readers, I am just a gal who writes without you. You have made me an author. Thank you.

My family… thank you for letting me write at all times of the day and night. I love you to the moon and back and none of this would be worth it without you.

Dedication

For Sean. I will miss you always. Merry Christmas till we meet again.

Author’s Note About This Book

I wrote this novella for many different reasons. Many of you have written me and DEMANDED (LOL) a new Astrid book. It was a labor of love and possibly a necessity as Astrid sits in the front of my brain and talks incessantly.

This year has been a very difficult one for my family. My brother died in an accident and our healing will take a very long time. A part of our heart is now forever missing. My brother was hilarious and Christmas will never quite be the same. My brother’s antics were so damned funny and usually wildly inappropriate. So I decided to write this novella in his honor because I wanted to laugh. I needed to laugh.

I have written a funny Christmas story, which at the core is all about love and family. While my own family never celebrated a Christmas quite as destructive as the one you are about to read… there are a few “truths” slipped in.

So Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukah, Joyous Kwanzaa, Happy New Year and all other lovely things. I hope your holidays are filled with happiness. And let us not forget the food. I plan to eat my own weight in Christmas cookies. My Mother-in-law makes kick ass cookies!

So, go forth and read.

Enjoy the warped ramblings from my brain.

And eat cookies.

xoxo Robyn

Book Description

It’s Christmas at the Cressida House and all Hell is breaking loose.

Tree? Decorated and lit. Elf on a Shelf? Seated with style. Baby Jesus on the mantle? Fourteen neatly in a row. Life sized Nutcracker? Creepy, but standing proud. Invitations sent to entire immortal family to celebrate the holiday? Possibly the stupidest damn thing I’ve ever done.

Mixing Heaven and Hell on my cousin’s famous birthday seemed like such a brilliant idea. I wanted my baby’s first Christmas to be special—memorable. I’d like chalk my heinous idea up to having been fallen down drunk, but that won’t fly as it’s insanely difficult for a Vampyre to tie one on. So instead I’ll deal with obscene gifts from relatives, kidnapped rock stars and catering by Mother Nature.

To complicate matters, our new family pet thinks the whole house is his toilet. Ethan and I can’t even find a room with working lock on the door to spread a little holiday cheer.

Never, never again. Christmas from now on will be at a freakin’ spa for the undead—no poles for dancing and no slumber parties with the Devil.

I just have to make it through the next twenty-four hours without beheading a beloved one.

Merry freakin’ Christmas—and Happy New Year.

Chapter 1

“Absolutely not. You will return every bit of that crap,” I informed Martha and Jane.

I cautiously poked through the pile of gifts they very mistakenly assumed they were giving to my child for Christmas. Half of the stuff looked like it could blow up the compound.

There was no way in Hell I was permitting them to give my baby slash toddler son a do-it- yourself volcano kit, a set of razor sharp throwing stars, or an air soft gun with bullets and a charger. The crowning jewel was something that looked disturbingly like a teddy bear shaped grenade, though I couldn’t confirm it for certain.

The old biddies were smoking crack if they thought any of this shit was going to fly.

Samuel, my eight-month old baby, who was roughly the size of a four year old, did enough damage on his own without any explosive paraphernalia to aid him. His natural abilities came with the territory of being a half Vampyre-half Demon.

“Return it? No can do,” Martha informed me in her outdoor voice as she adjusted her saggy bosom.

Her choice of clothing was nightmare inducing—a horrific lime green sequined tube dress. With the way the light from the chandelier illuminated it, it was all I could do not to squint at the fashion disaster.

“Not gonna happen, Boobs McHootieland,” Jane told me with a curt nod of her head. It caused the blood red tinsel wreath with tiny blue ornamental balls in her sparse hair to angle dangerously to the left. She resembled a deranged Christmas tree.

And to ensure sleepless nights, Jane was wearing a matching lime green sparkly knee length boob tube.

Ignoring her creatively disgusting slam at my knockers, my eyes narrowed to slits and my fingers began to shoot sparks. Today was not the day to fuck with me. I was certain I’d made an enormously destructive mistake earlier by inviting my entire extended family for Christmas. I was not going to deal with two sexually ambiguous old Vampyres telling me no.

Not a day went by that I didn’t regret having the conservative, bat shit crazy, boob obsessed, name calling old bags turned. If they hadn’t saved my precious son’s life, I’d consider removing their heads myself. However, if they insisted on giving gifts from Hell, all bets were off.

“I’m sure I didn’t hear you assmonkeys correctly,” I said through clenched teeth and around something that barely passed for a smile. “This shit goes back to the store today. If you don’t do it, I will.”

“Well,” Martha stalled as she glared at Jane. “We don’t exactly have the receipts.”

“And that would be because?” I asked.

“Because Dipshitballbrains stole all of it,” Martha tattled.

“You dared me, sow mamma,” Jane grunted and punctuated her remark with a left hook to Martha’s head that caused her wreath to go flying off.

I watched in horror as they participated in a bitch fight that left each of them balder than they’d been only moments before. Briefly I wondered if I left the room right then if they’d kill each other. Samuel’s love for them and my stupid conscience were the only things that stopped me from testing my theory. As much as I wanted to string them up, I secretly kind of sort of liked them.

“Enough,” I shouted. They froze mid body-slam. “Both of you idiots have money. Why in the Hell are you stealing things?”

“You tell her,” a bleeding and bruised Jane grumbled as she spit out a hunk of Martha’s hair.

“I’m not gonna tell her. You tell her,” Martha said as she got one last outstanding noogie in on the top Jane’s head.

“Let’s just get Mikey,” I snapped.

They stared at me blankly. “What? You never watched cereal commercials?” I asked.

Again with the blank stares. Whateverthefuck.

“I’d better tell her before she confuses us with more random pop culture bullshit from her fleeting youth,” Martha said. “Jane, pull up your dress. I can see three fourths of your left titty.”

If I could have puked, I would have, but Vampyres were not afforded that luxury. Instead, I stared at the ceiling for twenty-three seconds before I gave them a glare that made them take cover.

“Spill it,” I said as I waited impatiently for them to lie out of their boney asses.

“Well, you see… um… we were playing an innocent game of poker with Ronald Regan,” Martha started.

“Ronald Regan?” I repeated.

“Yes. Ronald Regan. The fortieth president with an ass you could bounce a quarter off of,” Jane confirmed as I gagged.

“And that was certainly a fucking stupid move,” Martha said with an eye roll. “Nancy cold cocked Jane with a hell of a punch for such a tiny thing.”

“This is true,” Jane agreed. “She does have a tremendous rack though.”

Martha nodded in agreement and I considered cold cocking both of them.

“Ronald Regan is dead and Nancy Regan is not,” I said stating the obvious.

“This is also true,” Jane said. “We played in Purgatory.”

“Um, okay… that still doesn’t explain how Nancy was there,” I said.

“Vampyre,” Jane whispered with big round eyes.

“Holy shit,” I shouted. “Nancy Regan is a fucking Vampyre?”

“Yes, but it’s a well-kept secret,” Martha said nodding solemnly.

Actually, it made bizarre sense…

“They live in Purgatory?” I asked confused. No one lived in Purgatory. The elevator music was enough to make even the most pious choose Hell.

“Rumor has it Ronnie might have gotten a little too close to Heaven’s astrologer. Nancy got pissed and… well let’s leave it at that,” Martha explained with a shudder.

“Yessiree,” Jane added. “Heads rolled. Literally.”

“Wait.” I pinched the bridge of my nose and tried to block out the image of the very proper Vampyre Nancy Regan removing a head. “Ronald and Nancy Regan won all of your considerable fortune off of you?”

“Hell no! They suck at poker. We just invited them to be eye candy. It was a friendly little evening until that fucker, Mister Rogers, showed up,” Jane growled.

“Yep,” Martha added with a disgusted snort. “He waltzed in wearing that fugly-ass sweater and then the bastard held up the game for twenty goddamned minutes while he changed his tennis shoes.”

“So Mister Rogers won all of your money?” I asked, curious to hear if anyone else had shown up. The dumbasses stared at the ground in shame. Holy Cousin Jesus, they were stupid. Everyone knew that Fred Rogers was a freakin’ card shark.

“Yes,” they mumbled sadly.

“So then, being broke, you freaks of nature decided you would steal an arsenal to give to my baby for Christmas?”

“Sounds about right,” Martha said.

“Clearly, and thankfully, you two assbags never had children. You do not give babies weapons. Ever.”

“See? I told you that,” Jane groused at Martha. “We should have stuck with my plan to get him a hooker.”

“Sweet baby Satan in a thong,” I shouted. “You two imbeciles will go the art room and make Samuel a present in less than twenty-four hours, since Christmas is tomorrow. You will craft something from soft materials and glue. You are forbidden to use staples or anything sharp in the making of said gift. There will be no more stealing or I will remove your hands and they would take at least six weeks to grow back. Are we clear?”

“Can we make a hooker for him?” Jane suggested.

“Can I pierce your heart with a silver fucking stake?” I shot back.

“Um… no?” Jane replied.

“There’s your answer,” I stated as I clasped my hands tightly together to keep from zapping them completely bald. “I’d also recommend neither of you say another word as my fingers are itching to blast your asses into tomorrow.”

Martha raised her hand and looked at me expectantly.

“Yes, Martha?”

“What about the receipt-less gifts we procured?”

I stared at the deadly pile and grinned. “No worries. I’ll give them to Uncle Satan. He’ll love them—especially the fact that they were stolen.”

Martha and Jane paled, and then gulped loudly as they slunk out of the room. It was never a good idea to let my Uncle know your list of bad deeds. He had a memory like a steel trap. The mere thought of Martha and Jane eventually ending up in Hell made me laugh though. Even Satan wouldn’t be able to handle them.

I would just add the weapons to the Journey concert tickets I’d bought the King of the Underworld. He’d be on Cloud Nine—well not really, that was more his brother God’s territory.

Chapter 2

The Great Room in the Cressida House was ginormous. Occasionally I missed my quaint, cozy, little house from when I was human, but this was my new home. The most important men in my life lived in it—Ethan, my mate, and Samuel, my son.

Hell, I’d live in a cave and give up Prada to be with my boys.

Glancing around the vast room, I giggled. Christmas decorations covered every conceivable nook and cranny. It had taken Gemma, Venus, Pam, Paris Hilton, and me four days of solid work to accomplish the feat and the results were garishly wonderful. Pam, my guardian angel and stepmother to my mate, created new and profane lyrics to The Twelve Days of Christmas. The atrocity would definitely go down in history. Unfortunately, Samuel had been present and I’d been hearing about turtle doves fornicating and pipers whacking off nonstop since.

The twelve-foot tree in the corner was the crowning jewel. It was lit with brightly colored chaser lights and had so many ornaments on it the needles of the tree were barely visible. Samuel had screamed with delight when he saw it and changed his skin color for two hours straight to match the light show. My baby’s talents were many. The ability to adjust his skin color to his surroundings or to his liking was only the tip of the iceberg.

He’d sported red and green skin for the last week in preparation for the holiday. Slightly alarming behavior—but tolerable. I picked my battles with my child carefully. Skin was skin. It was the conjuring up Trolls I took issue with…

As stunning as the tree was, there was nothing more beautiful than the large, sexier-than-Hell Vampyre sitting on the floor next to it. Dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt with his blond hair all sexy-messy, he looked like he was posing for an ad in a glossy magazine.

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 jumped 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.

“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.”

“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.”

“Fine,” I huffed and let my magic recede. “He can keep his wiener, but if you cover any more of my decorations in black glitter, you’ll be singing soprano. We clear?”

Satan slowly removed his hands from his crotch and nodded. “Yes, I believe we are. Now back to me and my issues. And please do not call my behemoth man package a wiener ever again.”

I was speechless. Never in my life had I heard the term behemoth man package. The unfortunate visual was therapy inducing, not to mention gross. Ethan covered a muffled laugh with a coughing fit. It was a pathetic cover considering Vampyres didn’t really ever have to cough. Thankfully Satan was too self-absorbed to even notice.

“It’s not fair. I want a birthday,” he insisted and stomped his foot like Samuel did when he didn’t get his way.

My tiny and wildly unstable grandmother marched up to her six feet six certifiable son and slapped him on the chest. “Listen you little shit, calendars hadn’t been invented when you and your brother were born. I am getting bored with your petty whining over this.”

“But God says his birthday is in June,” Satan accused. “You are a horrible mother to know one son’s birthday and not the other. And for this very reason, I shall permanently wipe June off the calendar year.”

“Whoa, I call bullshit,” I said. “My birthday is in June. You leave June the Hell alone.”

“Fine,” Mother Nature yelled at the Devil. “Your birthday is in April.”

“April what?” he demanded.

“It’s… April first,” she answered and then glanced quickly at her shoes.

Ethan had a second coughing fit and I seriously wanted to join him. I hadn’t missed my grandmother’s evil smirk, but Satan sure had. Mother Nature had just given the Devil April Fool’s Day as his birthday. Clearly the victorious grin on his face proved he had no clue he’d been duped.

“Wonderful. I declare April first to be a world wide holiday,” my Uncle said grandly.

The Devil was obviously on a roll now. I adjusted my underpants weenie and sat back down to enjoy the show.

“It will completely eclipse Christmas,” he went on. “There will be singing and fornication, and… ”

“Flying monkeys shooting out of everyone’s asses?” I proposed.

“Not sure that would make me very popular—and sounds rather unpleasant—but if it’s the new thing, I shall decree it,” he announced.

“Hell’s Bells,” Mother Nature sniped. “This is making me gassy. I’m done with this subject. How did your meeting go?”

“What meeting?” I asked. I really needed to find the baboon and get rid of it, but I knew my son was safe with Venus. And my curiosity was piqued. Or maybe I needed the distraction to keep from screaming the walls down around me.

“My meeting with that talented fuckwad, Steve Perry,” Satan supplied with a displeased grunt.

“Steve Perry’s not dead.” At least I didn’t think he was…

“Well, he almost was today,” my uncle muttered under his breath. “I made that bastard famous and this is how he thanks me?”

“Excuse me, Mr. Liar Liar Pants on Fire?” Mother Nature challenged with an eye roll and an un-ladylike grunt.

“I did—you know I did,” Satan insisted. “I made sure all the other bands at the time produced crap… and I might have cooked the poll numbers a teeny tiny bit.”

“And?” she prompted.

“Well, I might have induced a few influenzas, created strife amongst several popular bands, twisted a couple vocal chords, encouraged some unsavory addictions… ”

Mother Nature cleared her throat loudly, slapped her hands onto her hips, and gave her son a glare that made me want to hide.

“Fine,” he huffed. “I gave forty-two bands the crabs so Journey had very little to no competition. Is that what you wanted me to say?” he yelled at his mother.

“Oh my Hell, that is just wrong and horrible,” I said with a disgusted groan.

I was pretty sure Ethan had a coughing fit for real this time.

“Yes. Of course it was. And your point would be?” Satan asked, completely stymied as to why anything he did would be wrong.

“Nothing. Forget it,” I said as I pressed my temples.

I tried to remember if I’d been wasted when I decided inviting my family for the holiday was a good idea. The only problem with that theory was that it was next to impossible for a Vamp to tie one on. Not to mention, I was a young Vampyre and could only drink blood. I had a few hundred years before I could tolerate any other kind of liquid—alcohol or not.

“So it went poorly then?” Mother Nature asked her boy.

“Yesssssss,” Satan whined with an unhappy shake of his head. “Getting the band back together is apparently not going to happen.”

My gaze bounced between my grandmother and my uncle. “Because I enjoy asking questions I don’t want the answers to, why in the Hell are you trying to get the band back together?”

My Uncle stared at me like I’d grown two heads.

“Because I want them to play at a ceremony I’m attending… ” he started explaining and then stopped abruptly. Slapping his hand over his mouth, his eyes grew wide with something I couldn’t put my finger on.

“What kind of ceremony? Where do you want them to play? In Hell?”

I giggled. My Uncle’s Journey obsession bordered on stalking.

“Um… not exactly,” he hedged. “It’s a surprise.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re trying to join the band,” I said as Ethan’s fourth coughing fit ensued.

“Sweet Universe on fire,” Mother Nature said gleefully. “He tried that in the seventies. It was a no go then too. He doesn’t like to admit it, but my dear son is tone deaf.”

“That’s quite enough, Mother, ” Satan grumbled as he flicked a pile of red ornamental balls off the table sending them crashing to the floor.

Without a thought I aimed and fired. The zap to my uncle’s ass was loud and satisfying. However, the appalled silence in the room after the fact—including mine—was scary.

Satan was frozen like a statue—an angry frightening statue from Hell.

“Um… sorry,” I muttered, wondering if I was going to be alive to celebrate the holidays. “I did warn you about messing up my stuff.”

My words came out like a strangled croak.

Ethan stood and quickly shielded my body with his.

Shitbrainsfuckballs.

“Bravo! That was outstanding,” Mother Nature yelled. “Satan—if you retaliate, I will take back your birthday.”

“How? Can you really do that?” he asked.

Glittering black magic floated around him and I stepped out from behind my mate. It was my bad and Ethan would not suffer due to my itchy fingers.

“Yes. I’m Mother fucking Nature,” she replied airily. “I can do whatever I want.”

“Hmmmm… I’ve grown quite fond of the April first date.” Satan paused dramatically and considered. “Astrid, you’re safe this time. But since you burned a hole in a five thousand dollar pair of pants, and possibly scarred my perfect ass, I get to enhance four of your Christmas decorations.”

I didn’t trust the wicked gleam in his eyes.

“How in the Hell did your pants cost five thousand dollars?” I stared doubtfully at his pants. He was so full of shit.

“They’re custom,” he replied.

“Oh, well alright then,” I said, now understanding. He was a bigger clothes whore than I was.

But back to the matter at hand.

If I didn’t agree to allow Satan to enhance four of my decorations, there was a fine chance the entire room would end up black. A fourth of it was destroyed anyway. What did a few more changes matter?

Shitshitshit. I never should have zapped him.

I was actually getting off pretty easy considering I’d marred the Devil.

“Okay. Only four things,” I told him warily. “And you can’t touch the tree. Samuel loves it.”

“That works for me,” he said with a smile that made me tingle all over and not in a good way.

Slowly he walked around the room and examined the décor. His eye rolling and snorts of disgust made me nervous. It would take Hell freezing over for me to ever host a holiday again. This was turning into a massive clusterfuck and it had barely begun.

It took the Devil twenty-three minutes and seventeen seconds to choose his prey. And true to his word—he enhanced them. He enhanced them to the point they should be put away for Halloween or burned in a bonfire.

My once beautiful wreath over the mantle now sported naked big-breasted angels with mohawks and evil red eyes.

The life-sized nutcracker now owned a boner.

The Elf on the Shelf resembled Medusa with heinous snakes coming out of every orifice.

And the star on the top of the tree was now a headless bloody Demon.

“There. I think everything looks much better this way,” Satan said with a shrug and a lopsided grin.

“And I think your taste sucks,” I replied. “You weren’t supposed to touch the tree.”

“I didn’t,” he said innocently. “I fixed your star. It’s far more riveting this way.”

I shook my head and gave the equivalent of a put upon sigh for someone who couldn’t breathe. “You done?”

“For now,” he said.

“Fair’s fair,” I shot back. “You ruin one more thing and I shrink your pants so your nuts end up in your throat.”

Satan’s laugh of pure pleasure made me giggle. Sadly the niece apple didn’t fall all that far from the uncle tree.

“Astrid, you continue to delight me,” he bellowed. “Now I’d like to see my boy. I have a present for him.”

“Is it alive?” Ethan asked warily.

“Absolutely not,” Satan replied, offended. “I’m far more responsible than my mother. It’s a Ouija board that talks.”

“Fucking wonderful,” Ethan muttered as he stared at the ceiling and appeared to be praying for patience.

I was going to owe my mate too many blowjobs to count to make up for the debacle I had been hoping to call a family Christmas.

“Alrighty then,” I said in a voice that barely passed for civil. “Let’s go find my son and the baboon.”

“Samuel named him Blobbityflonk!” Mother Nature announced with pride as she floated out of the room.

“I love it,” Satan yelled as he followed his mother. “The boy is brilliant.”

“This is going to be a long damn twenty-four hours,” Ethan stated the obvious as we slowly left the now ugly room.

“That’s an understatement,” I said miserably. “A huge fucking understatement.”

I glanced backwards and made eye contact with one of the butt-ass naked angels on my wreath. For a brief moment I was sure she winked at me. I closed my eyes and looked again. She was still. Obviously, I needed a nap in a big way.

Chapter 5

“What the fuck is going on in here?” I shouted as I entered my son’s nursery.

Satan, Mother Nature, Ethan and I stood in the entryway with mouths agape. Not a peep came from any of them about my inappropriate language in front of my child.

Clearly we were all on the same page for once.

The room was decimated. Furniture was broken. Shredded clothing lay in piles on the floor.

Toys were beheaded and dismembered and the bedding hung from the light fixtures on the ceiling.

My son sat in the middle of the chaos cradled by a baboon who was clearly besotted with my child. Samuel’s chubby cheeks were covered in primate spit and he was giggling like he was drunk.

Knowing my son’s immortal life wasn’t in danger was a relief. However, the clusterfuck that was his play area was another story.

“What the fuck?” Samuel squealed as the baboon grunted and rocked.

“Garuumph flafla googoobaba,” the hairy animal yelled, and then grunted out what I hoped was laughter.

“I am so sorry,” a frazzled looking Venus apologized as she crawled out from beneath a mountain of ruined toys. “It all happened so fast I couldn’t stop it.”

My beautiful friend, who was one of the deadliest Vampyres I knew, was dazed and confused.

“Are you okay, Venus?” I asked as I helped her to her feet.

Her gorgeous dark black skin actually looked pale and her wild curly hair stood on end. Venus was a freakin’ mess.

“Um… as far as I know—yes. I was fairly certain you didn’t want me to kill the baboon, so I simply tried to run interference. Not sure I did a good job,” she whispered as she took in the room with a wince.

“Samuel’s alive and unharmed. You performed as well as anyone could have. Why don’t you go take a shower, drink some blood, and pass out,” I suggested.

“Okay. I’ll take you up on that one,” Venus replied with a weak grin as she practically sprinted from the room. “Oh, and Blobbityflonk is quite friendly, just destructive.”

“Got it,” I muttered as I advanced on my baby and his new friend.

“Oweeeeeeeeeeeeee,” a small voice shrieked from underfoot as I navigated my way across the room.

“Right. I should have known,” I snapped.

I reached down and yanked my four Baby Demons out from underneath a pile of ripped up Superhero underoos.

“Did you guys have anything to do with this shit show?” I demanded as I plopped them on top of what used to be Samuel’s big boy bed.

“Mooooomeeeeey,” Beyonce shouted. “Me love the babooooooon. He so funny!”

The other three nodded their little heads spastically in agreement.

My Baby Demons were tiny menaces, but I adored them. Beyonce, Honest Abe, Rachel and Ross stood about three inches tall. I found them on my ceiling when I’d just been turned and had adopted them as my own. On days like today, I regretted the decision immensely. They were named because of their uncanny resemblance to their historical counterparts.

They were ugly little suckers who didn’t poop or bite. However, they did eat. They ate bad Demons and occasionally car salesmen.

“The baboon has to go. The four of you do enough damage without adding a hairy six foot beast to the mix,” I stated firmly.

And that’s when the crying started.

Initially it was just the Baby Demons. Along with the tears, they began slapping themselves and each other as they tumbled off the remains of the bed and into a pile of what looked disturbingly like baboon poop.

Samuel started next. Huge tears rolled down his cheeks as he silently pled with me not to get rid of his new beloved pet from Hell—or the zoo to be more accurate.

Third and most alarming, the baboon let her rip. Enormous tears and sobbing that made me slap my hands over my ears ensued from him.

The waterworks in the room almost rivaled the monsoon from my closet, but not quite.

“Enough,” I shouted over the opera of sorrow. “Turn off the tears. If I get wet again, my dress will shrink more. Santa will be in danger of seeing my ass—not to mention the rest of my unstable family.”

“Can me smack your ass?” Abe inquired politely.

“No, you cannot,” I snapped as I put some distance between me and the little Demon bastards. I was certain they were covered in baboon crap and I had nothing else to wear. I refused to smell like primate poop. Not happening.

“Samuel,” I reasoned as I gingerly removed my baby from the wailing baboon’s furry arms. “Your new friend seems… um… lovely… but this is not a good place to keep a baboon. Grandma Gigi was planning all along to let him live with her and you can visit him whenever you want.”

“I was?” Mother Nature asked in surprise.

“Yes,” I hissed through my smile, as I shot her a look that made even Satan drop his gaze. “You were.”

“Oh, right,” she agreed quickly. “He can live with my monkeys in the guest house. There’s a pool and a wonderful Jacuzzi, and a banana grove right outside.”

Samuel considered this new wrinkle seriously for a moment before he nodded sadly. “Okay, Mommy. But he can stay for Christmas, right?”

I nodded numbly and mentally kicked my own ass hard for giving in so easily. If the baboon could do this much damage in the space of an hour or so, there was no telling what he could fuck up in twenty-four. But I had given my child my word.

“Yes, he can stay for Christmas. Do you think he might like a nice cage to hang out in?” I suggested cautiously.

“Grauhumph pookityflabe moomoo,” the baboon grunted and patted delicately at his tear stained face.

“He say no, Mommy,” Samuel said.

“Of course he does,” I mumbled as I glared at the hairy shit machine.

“He say he lived in cage and terrible mans hit him with sticks and hurt him bad,” my boy translated.

Blobbityflonk nodded his large head sadly and visibly shuddered at the memory. My stomach clenched as I wondered if the beast was telling the truth. I was also curious how in the Hell my son understood him so easily, but my baby was a freakin’ wonder. Not much surprised me anymore.

Putting Samuel down, I walked over to Blobbityflonk and squatted in front of him. Damn it to Hell if he wasn’t cute in a hairy, smelly, baboon kind of way. He extended his arm and silently bade me to examine it.

“Fretogoogy daroopmlakreefa,” he whispered.

Thankfully, his actions made his unintelligible language make sense. He sounded like a baby Wookiee. Damn my love for Star Wars to Hell.

Angry, red, scabbed over welts lay beneath his fur. On closer inspection, I realized most of his body had heinous jagged scars all over it. This animal had been beaten within an inch of his life. What kind of assholes beat defenseless baboons?

“Motherhumpincrapcanoes,” I said as I took the foul animal into my arms and hugged him tight. “You can stay for Christmas, but no more breaking things. If you poop in the house, I will make you eat it. We have an enormous amount of underused toilets in the compound. You will use them instead. Furthermore, if you clog any of the toilets with your crap, I will use your head as a plunger. We clear?”

“Gahhhhwhompa,” he said with a grateful nod and then licked my face.

“And no more of that licking stuff,” I gagged out as I grabbed what used to be a t-shirt and mopped the slobber off my face. “Wait. Did you just say thank you?” I asked, shocked that I might have understood his gibberish. I did have a bizarre talent for languages, but baboon wasn’t exactly a language.

“Blahookah flonymassageggegee.” He nodded with delight.

“Um… I didn’t get that one, but if that statement included any swear words, I’ll wash your mouth out with soap,” I threatened.

“Flinky blowhoppas wasdacrump.” He slapped his hairy thighs and laughed like I was a professional comedian.

And the day got longer.

“Can he sleep with me?” Sammy asked softly.

I looked around the room and groaned. My son’s nursery was not habitable. The top floor of the mansion was a wreck too. The fire and subsequent storm which had doused the flames had rendered my suite completely useless. What the Hell were we going to do to sleep?

The compound was large, but most of the rooms were taken. I knew any Vampyre here would happily give their suite up for us, but I wasn’t going to make any of my people homeless on Christmas Eve.

Damn. We were a menagerie without a manger. Maybe I was taking this reenactment stuff a little too far.

Satan and Gigi had guest rooms, but they weren’t big enough to hold all of us comfortably. Leaving my grandma and uncle alone to their own devices was most definitely out of the question.

There was only one thing to do and no one was going to be happy about it.

“We’re going to have a slumber party by the Christmas tree,” I announced in my loudest outdoor voice, hoping that sheer volume would distract everyone from the horror of what I had just said.

Nope. No such luck.

“Fine, but I sleep naked,” Satan announced with his arms spread wide as if we should applaud this unsavory bit of info.

“Not tonight you don’t,” Ethan said as he ran his hands through his hair, then purposely banged his head against the doorframe.

“Are you sure about this, Astrid?” Mother Nature inquired with raised brows.

“Nope, not even a little bit, but it’s what we’re doing. That way I can keep my eye on everyone and with some luck my home might still be standing tomorrow.”

I scrounged around and tried to find some PJs for my boy that hadn’t been torn to shreds. I did find some only slightly holey Batman underoos. They’d have to do.

“Ethan, can you take Samuel and have cots delivered to the Great Room?” I asked as I tossed him the pathetic excuse for jammies.

He nodded and caught them. “Will do,” he replied as he hoisted our baby onto his broad shoulders.

“Me love slumber parties,” Samuel said as he clapped his hands happily.

Satan sighed heavily and took his mother by her hand. “On my birthday, everyone will have their own quarters. And the baboon will not be invited.”

On that note they exited, leaving me with said baboon and the Baby Demons. I plopped down in defeat amongst the disarray and put my head in my hands. This was not going at all like it was supposed to go. I’d planned it out so well and it was now blowing up in my face.

“Um… Mommmmmeeeey?” Abe asked as he hopped up onto my shoulder and patted my head lovingly.

“Yes?”

“Me kind of hungry. Me was just thinking me might take a little trip to the zoooooooo and have snack,” he said with an evil glint in his eye.

Glancing over at the baboon with the scars and welts all over his body, I nodded silently.

“Just make sure you eat the right ones,” I told him.

“YAYAYAYAYAYAY,” they all squealed as the baboon’s eyes filled up again.

“Garummph flobuscka shopertgashub,” he whispered.

“Did he just say he likes to put underpants on his head?” I asked the Baby Demons.

“Noooooooooo,” Abe shouted through his hysterics. “Me like to put panties on me head though.”

Clearly my understanding of baboon needed improvement.

“He say there are two bad mans and they kill the animals for insurance money,” Rachel spat angrily.

“And the bad mans keep the moneys,” Ross added.

My stomach roiled. I knew then I was going to keep the hairy, maimed bastard. Ethan was going to shit a brick, but I’d work that out later.

“Honkasoopy clamatootiewojah deekiemoma.”

“I really hope I heard that wrong,” I hissed. I felt sick.

“Me don’t know, Mommmeeey, but Blobbityflonk also say they kill his family slow and laugh about it,” Abe informed me as he flitted over to the beast and gave him sweet little kisses.

I’d heard correctly.

My fury at what had been done to Blobbityflonk made my hands spark. I quickly tamped it down. There was nothing good to come of me incinerating another room in my house. If I’d had the time, I’d pay a personal visit to the zoo and throw down a little whoop ass before my Demons ate. But alas, there was no time. Christmas was coming whether I was ready or not.

“Lock the doors when you get home,” I said as I stood and extended my hand to the baboon.

He took it and started to lick it.

“What did I say about licking? Absolutely not,” I said sternly as he sucked his tongue back into his mouth guiltily. “You lick any part of me and you will lick all the floors clean in the entire compound.”

“Clabadorunkee fifimacca!”

The idiot thought that what I said was hilarious and inadvertently yanked me down on top of him in his laughing fit. I dropped my head to his chest and hugged him over his mirth.

The Baby Demons joined in and I eventually gave up all hopes of smelling good on Christmas Day. Some things were simply more important than me ending up smelling like a baboon.

“We go now?” Abe asked.

“Yep, go,” I replied as I stood up and pulled the beast to his feet. “Just be back for Christmas. It’s gonna be an interesting one.”

Truer words had never been said.

Chapter 6

“She snores,” Ethan hissed quietly as he tried to get his huge frame comfortable on the small cot. “And that son of a bitch talks in his sleep.”

He was referring to Mother Nature and Satan—and he was correct. Thankfully, Samuel and Blobbityflonk slept through my uncle’s play-by-play of his most recent conquest’s measurements and talents in the bedroom. Unfortunately, Ethan and I did not.

On top of the Hell we were experiencing, the pre-bedtime rituals had been trying. There had been a tense round of negotiations to get my uncle to wear pajamas. In the end, I had to let him enhance three more decorations.

And lest I forget to include that Blobbityflonk had to be taught to use a toilet.

“Do you think he can really do that?” I whispered as the Devil reminisced about a position that would have put me in traction.

“I will not dignify that with an answer,” Ethan replied. “However, if you want to try it, I’m game.”

“Oh my Hell.” I giggled and punched him in the arm. “We’re going to be exhausted tomorrow. I swear on my Cousin Jesus, I will never invite Satan for Christmas again.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Ethan said with a chuckle and a gleam in his beautiful blue eyes. “Do you think we’d get busted for a make out session?”

“Can you be quiet?” I asked as I scooted my cot closer to his.

“I’m not the screamer,” he reminded me with a smirk as he yanked me off of my cot and gently placed me on top of him.

Glancing around the impromptu camp out, I made sure all were fast asleep.

Bingo.

Maybe some tongue tangling with my mate would calm my inner turmoil… or not.

“One love feeds the fire,” Satan sang in the key of Z minor—dead asleep.

“Oh Sweet Hell on Earth—no,” Ethan moaned as he clamped his hands over his ears.

“One heart burns desire,” Satan warbled even louder.

It was all I could do not to squeal with laughter, so I did the next best thing. I grabbed my cell phone and hit record. I was going to own the ultimate of all blackmail tapes.

“Wonder who is crying now,” my beyond tone deaf uncle bellowed in a new and ear grinding key. The song was unrecognizable as music, but I knew Journey’s lyrics like I knew my ABC’s.

“I’m crying,” Ethan grumbled. “And I’m quite sure my ear drums are bleeding.”

“Shhhhhhh… ” I hushed him and pointed to my phone.

My mate’s grin was so evil and so sexy that I almost jumped his bones. However, getting busted by the Devil and my grandmother—not to mention my son and the baboon—didn’t really appeal.

“God, I love you,” he said as he gave me a kiss I felt down to my toes.

“What the Hell is that horrid noise,” Mother Nature asked groggily as she sat up and popped her fingers into her ears.

I pointed at Satan and then at my phone. She giggled and quietly clapped her delicate hands together.

“We can put it on YouTube and embarrass the five thousand dollar pants off of him,” she whispered with rabid excitement.

Her mothering skills left a tremendous amount to be desired, but it was a terrifyingly interesting idea. However, I was pretty sure I wasn’t brave enough to pull off that stunt. I enjoyed my undead life way too much to be executed by the Devil.

“The wheel in the sky keeps on turning,” Satan sang as he played an air guitar in his sleep.

“Oh shit no,” I blubbered as I wiped tears from my eyes. “He’s changed songs.”

“How can you even tell?” Mother Nature questioned as she cringed in mortification at her son’s total lack of talent. “You do realize if you video this we could make billions.”

The suggestion was truly tempting. I could give all the money to charity. We’d make Bill Gates look like a weenie. But again, I knew I probably wouldn’t live to see the fruits of my labor if I did it.

“No, we’ll keep this one in-house,” I said firmly. “I’d like to live to see my son grow up.”

“That could be tomorrow at the rate he’s growing,” Mother Nature said.

She was correct. My son was maturing at alarming rates. There were no instructional baby books for a half Demon-Half Vampyre baby that also happened to be a True Immortal. He’d grown to the size of a preschooler in less than eight months and his intellect rivaled an adult genius. At least he still wanted to cuddle with his mommy. I so wasn’t ready to give that up yet.

“I think it would be best if we put a sock in his mouth and we all tried to get a few hours sleep,” Ethan suggested.

“Fine idea,” Mother Nature agreed as she found a purple sock in her overnight bag and stuffed it in the Devil’s open mouth. “That should do it.”

She then gave her son—the same one that she’d suggest we humiliate worldwide—a loving kiss on the cheek as she smoothed his dark hair gently back from his face.

“He’s too damned good looking for his own good,” she muttered as she crawled back into her cot. “It’s probably a good thing he can’t sing. One shouldn’t be good at everything. It would make life quite boring.”

She yawned and curled into a ball.

“Night, Gigi,” I said as I grabbed Ethan’s hand and wondered how long it would take my grandmother to fall back asleep. I really wanted to suck face with my man.

“And PS,” Gigi added. “Making out is a bad idea.”

“Wait. What? You were snoring for God’s sake,” I blurted.

“Don’t take your Uncle’s name in vain,” she chastised with a chuckle. “He doesn’t like it. And I don’t snore.”

“Um… yes you do,” I told her. “Loudly.”

“Darling, I’m Mother Nature. I’m fucking perfect. The snoring is a ruse to see if anyone is talking behind my back—or goodness forbid—having sex in a public venue. Now go to sleep, darling. Tomorrow promises to be a clusterfuck.”

I feared she was correct—actually I knew she was correct.

I grabbed Ethan’s hand and closed my eyes. Tomorrow was coming whether I wanted it to or not. Christmas Day with my family would be rough. Christmas day with my family and me running on no sleep would be dangerous.

“I love you, Ethan,” I whispered.

“I love you more, Astrid,” he replied sleepily.

“Not possible,” I said so quietly, I was sure he missed it.

But it wasn’t possible. I had so much love stored up inside, I knew I was the winner. For me the sun rose and set on my mate and my son.

I glanced around the now horribly decorated room compliments of Satan and rolled my eyes.

Did the trappings matter? Well, kind of… at least the gorgeous tree was still intact and no one else had shown up early.

The baboon hadn’t clogged the toilet and Samuel was sucking his thumb contentedly.

My uncle’s muffled singing was barely audible and Gigi was snoring away again.

For the moment, my crazy family was nestled all snug in their… cots.

I giggled and let my head drop to my pillow. Then I counted my blessings—there were many—and fell asleep.

Chapter 7

“Holy plastic Baby Jesus in a manger from Target, will someone please tell me I’m dreaming?” I choked out.

I stared in shock at the rock star who was gagged and tied to a chair next to my Christmas tree. There was no way Santa had delivered a bound and gagged Steve Perry to my house during the few short hours I’d slept. Santa’s sleigh was supposed to be full of toys, not kidnap victims.

Whipping around, I zoned in on Satan. He was still fast asleep with a sock stuffed in his mouth. If he didn’t do this, who did?

“Shhhhhhh… Astrid,” Sloth whispered right next to my ear, scaring the Hell out of me. “Don’t wake Daddy up. It’s a surprise.”

Steve Perry didn’t look too happy about being the gift for the Devil… and who could blame him?

I rubbed my tired eyes and pinched myself to make sure I wasn’t still sleeping and having a heinous nightmare.

Nope, not sleeping. Six of the Seven Deadly Sins stood in my Great Room at the foot of my makeshift bed. Dressed to the nines and literally glowing with excitement, they waited for their father to wake up to his appalling gift.

Lust was absent as she was still incarcerated at Mother Nature’s abode. Her list of transgressions was huge, but her attempt to murder me was the topper that got her locked away.

“You can’t give the Devil someone like Steve Perry all trussed up and totally freaked out,” I snapped.

I eased myself off the cot and checked Steve Perry’s ropes to make sure they hadn’t cut off his circulation. All I needed to cap off my list of Christmas disasters was a dead rock star in my house.

“And why not?” Greed asked confused. “He’s here isn’t he?”

“Um… yes, he is. But this is totally wrong, not to mention illegal,” I said in an attempt to be reasonable.

“And your point about that would be?” Envy asked, perplexed.

Reasoning with the Deadly Sins was an exercise in futility. “My point is… Wait. How did you all get into the compound in the first place?” I knew it was locked down like Fort Knox.

“We broke in, silly,” Sloth said with an eye roll and a laugh. “It was easy.”

Fucking awesome. I was going to have a long talk with the guards later today.

As I loosened the bindings and pulled the gag from my unwilling guest’s mouth I leaned in. “I’ll get you out of here, Steve Perry,” I promised in a whisper.

“Thank you,” he replied in a hushed voice. “Just leave me tied up for the moment. I think it’s safer that way.”

I winked to show him I’d heard and stood back up. He was a smart man. Being chased down by my certifiable cousins could end very badly.

“Um… Astrid… I don’t mean to be rude,” Pride said diplomatically.

“Of course you do,” Gluttony corrected her.

“Oh my goodness, you’re right!” Pride said with a shrill giggle and a shrug. “So as I was saying… do you always wear a midriff sweater and men’s boxer briefs to bed? I mean I know you’re a hooker and all, I just didn’t realize you worked it at home.”

Slowly I glanced down at my attire and I wanted to melt into the floor. My ill-mannered ho-bag of a cousin was correct. I was showing bellybutton and my cinched cloth penis was on display for all to enjoy. My fucking dress had shrunk to the point of lewd. This would follow me for centuries.

“Actually… it’s my outfit for today’s festivities.”

I lied through my fangs and modeled it for them. I walked a grand circle as the gals gaped at me and my cinched underpants doubtfully.

“You know… I saw that outfit in Paris on the runway just last spring,” Steve Perry said as he gave me a covert wink. “How were you able to get it so soon? I hear it’s impossible to get your hands on that masterpiece.”

Journey’s front man was my new best friend. “I have connections,” I explained as the Sins began to hiss and whisper amongst themselves.

They were one enormous green-eyed monster and I was lovin’ it.

“Was it expensive?” Wrath demanded as she shoved her sisters out of the way and fingered the material of my sweater.

“Oh, you know. It costs what it costs. It’s Prada,” I said evenly as I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. “Right off the model too. What do you think?”

“Son of a bitch,” Wrath spat as she turned on her sisters. “How did we not know about this trend?”

They argued with each other in voices that could wake the dead—and they did.

I grinned and gave the lead singer of Journey a thumbs up sign. The morning had started bizarrely, but it was looking up.

Rudely jerked out of slumber, my family stared in shock at the bound super star.

“Did Santa bwing me that?” Samuel asked as he pointed at Steve Perry.

“No. He did not. That is an ill-advised scheme of the douchecanoe Sins,” I told him. “Your presents are under the tree, baby.”

Blobbityflonk rose and had what I would safely call an epic shit-fit. His body shook violently and his eyes rolled back in his head. The pained shriek that flew from his lips halted all the bickering in the room.

He frantically ran to Steve Perry and began chewing through the ropes.

I was fairly sure Steve Perry would sue if he didn’t have a heart attack first.

“My God,” Ethan shouted as he sprinted across the room. “Is the baboon eating Steve Perry?”

“Nooooo… don’t let him eat Steve Perry,” Satan screamed as he got tangled in his bedding and hit the floor with a resounding thud. “He’s my hero.”

Satan’s fall sent Mother Nature flying off her cot and into the Christmas tree. Balls and tinsel flew willy-nilly. The baboon and Steve Perry got showered in red and green.

Gigi wasn’t a welcome or pleased ornament. Her purple panty clad ass and slippered feet were all that showed as her head and upper body were lodged mid-tree.

Her squeal of displeasure sent a minor earthquake through the room and my collection of porcelain Baby Jesuses went crashing to the floor in response.

“Motherfucker,” I yelled as I realized no amount of glue was going to fix the fourteen Baby Jesuses I’d collected. “You idiots broke my Baby Jesuses. What the Hell kind of people are you?”

“Blobbityflonk no eat the long hair man,” Samuel shouted above the din. “He save him!”

I sure as shit hoped my child was right. I wanted to keep the baboon, but if he habitually ate rock stars there would be a problem.

“Kidnapping singers, breaking my shit, and throwing grandmas into Christmas trees is not working for me,” I bellowed as the entire upper half of my body burst out in glittering flames.

The Sins dove for cover taking the Nutcracker with an erection down violently in the process. His head rolled underfoot of the now standing Satan, who freaked and then took a dive into the thankfully unlit fireplace.

The stockings that I’d stupidly hung with care were ripped right out of the garland. They fell onto poor Steve Perry, who was now blinded by socks and hanging on by a thread.

Ethan approached me carefully and placed a calming hand on my smoldering shoulder. Thankfully, he was mostly immune to my magic since we were mated—although he was sure to have a nasty burn for his bravery. For his sake, I tried my best to reel in my reaction.

“It’s okay, Astrid. Pull back your power, my love,” he said in a soothing tone.

I met his eyes and nodded. I didn’t want Samuel’s memory of his first Christmas to be of his mother blowing up the compound.

“You’re right,” I said.

With great effort I let my fury go and the flames receded with it. Poor Steve Perry looked like his eyes were going to bug out. We would have to do a major memory wipe on the dude or he’d end up institutionalized.

Okay. So I wasn’t going to burn the house down, but I also wasn’t going to stand for any more of my shit being destroyed.

With a flick of my hand, I hung everyone in the room midair, except for Samuel, Ethan and Steve Perry. My family now dangled about eight feet off of the floor and they could float there for eternity for all I cared. No one was coming down until they agreed to play by my rules and my rules only.

Martha grunted from the doorway as she and Jane stared in confusion at the scene. “Holy Mitch McConnell in a girdle and push up bra, what the Hell happened in here?”

“Love your outfit,” Jane said sincerely. “I’d look good in that.”

I nodded my head curtly, afraid of what might come out of my mouth.

And Hell just continued to blaze…

Between them, they carried a life sized cloth man wearing a hula skirt and a top hat. They too were wearing hula skirts and top hats. The entire picture they presented was alarming, but I ignored it. I was far too frightened to ask what the Holy Hell they had made for my son for Christmas, so I stuck to the question asked.

“We had a few minor snafus this morning,” I said in what I hoped was a cheery voice for the benefit of my child.

“Looks more like a grenade went off in here,” Jane said as she adjusted her hula skirt and inadvertently revealed a red and green thong. “Speaking of grenades… you might want to have Satan put out that cigarette he’s smoking. He’s defying gravity right next to it.”

“Right next to what?” I asked for clarification. Surely I’d misunderstood.

“The pile of presents we… you know, that we kind of lifted,” she told me. “There was a kind of… sort of… a grenade in… um… ” she faltered when she saw the look on my face.

“You bought my son a grenade?” Ethan inquired in a calm and deadly tone. He was so freakin’ pissed, my hair stood up.

“Not exactly,” Martha said.

“No. They freaking stole it,” I tattled.

“Which one of you stole my son a grenade?” Ethan demanded.

“She did,” they shouted in unison as they pointed at each other.

“It’s the damn teddy bear, isn’t it?” I ground out through clenched teeth as my body began to shoot sparks.

“I knew we should have gotten him a subscription to Playboy,” Martha wailed as she scissor kicked her buddy, revealing her own pickled thighs and Christmas thong.

“Astrid, stay put,” Ethan ordered as he ran swiftly to the pile of presents. “Your sparks could set it off.”

He was right. I turned to Satan who was watching with interest as he puffed away.

“Gigi, I need a little help here,” I called out as she followed my gaze and grinned.

“With pleasure,” she trilled and waved her hands above her head.

I was hoping for a bucket of water in his face, but Mother Nature never ever took half measures. The waterfall of all waterfalls rained down on my uncle as he sputtered and choked.

One problem down… oh so many to go.

“Got it,” Ethan yelled as he held the teddy-grenade in the air.

A small ember from Satan’s cigarette had clearly lit it before he was doused and Ethan didn’t notice.

“Ethan! It’s live. Throw it,” I shrieked as I dove on top of Samuel and Steve Perry.

Blobbityflonk threw himself on top of me and I was pretty sure Martha and Jane belly flopped on top of him. If I’d had to breathe, I would have been royally screwed.

I quickly waved my hand and released my family from their floating prison. They were sitting ducks hanging in the air. I might be pissed, but I wasn’t cruel.

They ran for cover amidst a whole bunch of shouting and screeching.

Ethan swore viciously and hurled the grenade at the back wall of the Great Room away from everyone. With his Vampyre strength, it shot like a bullet out of a sub-machine gun.

Blobbityflonk heaved a huge sigh of relief that the day had been saved. However, I knew better—far better.

I put my hands over Samuel’s ears and shut my eyes.

And that’s when the grenade exploded, blowing the entire back wall of the Cressida house right off its foundation.

Through the smoke and haze, I noted that it was a lovely, sunny day outside.

Well, at least there was that.

I let my head drop and the tears flow. This would go down in history as the worst December 25th ever. Merry Fucking Christmas.

Chapter 8

“Is everyone alright?” Ethan yelled as he pulled the pile off of me, Samuel and Steve Perry.

The muffled chorus of yeses eased my panic. Everyone was accounted for. This was a horrific day for us all… but I was certain it was the worst day of Steve Perry’s life.

Samuel was completely unharmed. I expected him to be upset, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. He was grinning from ear to ear and giggling.

“Again, Daddy. Do it again,” he insisted as he clapped his hands gleefully.

“No can do, little man,” Ethan said wearily as he wrapped his arms around both of us and held on tight.

I gently extracted myself and took in the room. Silently I walked around and examined what was left of the beautiful Christmas I wanted to give my son and my family.

My utter misery over losing my beautiful Christmas was showing on my face. No one uttered a word. Smart people…

Nothing. Nothing was left—no presents, no tree, no decorations, no food, no blood, no Nut Cracker with a boner, no Baby Jesuses… nothing.

And of course, that’s when everyone else started to arrive.

In they came, each looking dazed and concerned as they took in the disaster.

Venus, Paris Hilton and Ethan’s sister, Raquel looked around in dismay, but stayed quiet. The vibe in the room was evident to all. They hugged me and made their way over to Samuel.

All were bearing gifts meant to be placed under the tree, but there was nothing but an electrocuted twig left of the formerly beautiful Christmas tree. Still, they placed them there.

“Assbuckle, you want to clue me in as to what the fuck happened here?” Pam, my Guardian Angel, demanded. Her hands were on her shapely hips as she entered into the room in a breezy burst of magic. “I spent four days in what used to be this room, putting all that shit up.”

She stood with the King—her mate and Ethan’s father. They both appeared shocked and confused. Who wouldn’t be?

“We had a few little issues yesterday and today,” I mumbled and let my head fall back on my shoulders.

I would not cry. I would not cry.

“Little?” She laughed and gave me a big hug and a sloppy kiss on my cheek. “You give me a list of those issues and I’ll kick the issue’s asses. You hear me?” she asked quietly.

“Yes, Pam. I hear you,” I said as I hugged her back.

“PS… you forgot your pants too,” she added with a cackle.

“It’s the new look,” I told her with a wince.

“Lord help us all,” she muttered as she stomped across the room and placed a mountain of gifts beneath the tree.

My more normal cousins and their father came next. Heathcliff, Cathy and Sir James entered cautiously. Heathcliff’s longing look at Raquel wasn’t lost on me, but there was no time for me to play matchmaker at the moment. I had a party to host… or what was left of one.

“My God,” Heathcliff sputtered and gave a low whistle as he glanced around.

“I see you did some major redecorating since yesterday. I like it,” he announced with a grin and a wink.

I loved my cousin. A little bit of humor right now was a good thing.

They too crossed over to the charred twig and laid their gifts beneath it.

Hayden and Dixie showed up in a cloud of sparkling mist followed by Lucy and Elijah. Of course, Lucy and Elijah arrived separately much to Elijah’s dismay. All four of the newest arrivals were True Immortals like myself, Samuel, Satan and Mother Nature.

Dixie’s eyes were wide as she hurried over to make sure I wasn’t going to lose my shit.

“My beautiful cousin, you have exceeded my expectations with your… preparations for us,” she said with a grin as she grasped my hands. “You okay?”

“Nope, but I’m still standing.”

With a loving hug, Dixie moved away and placed her presents under the pathetic excuse of a tree.

As the room filled with more and more people, my need to cry increased.

Samuel ran from group to group and received kisses and hugs.

This was a fucking tragedy. I was embarrassed and heartbroken.

Then a small man standing in the entryway made me smile through my tears. He was roughly the size of an Oompa Loompa and could make the sun shine of even the dreariest of days.

My Grandpa was dangerously squeezable Sprite and the cutest man alive.

The Sins literally quivered with the need to trap him in an embrace. He had sported many broken bones over the centuries from too much loving. Being a True Immortal and able to heal in an instant, he tolerated our need to clasp him to our bosoms in a vise-like hold.

He raised a warning hand at the Sins and they stayed put with great difficulty.

His wise eyes were on me and moved across the room with lively little steps.

“My darling,” Grandpa said kindly as he put his arms out for a hug.

I fell into him and was careful not to squash one of my favorite people in the world.

“It’s just fucking awful,” I whispered as he lovingly stroked my hair. “It was supposed to be perfect.”

“Perfect is boring. Flaws are what make life interesting,” he insisted as he took my face in his hands and placed a kiss on my nose.

“Um… well then I nailed flawed in a big way,” I told him.

“We shall see.”

On that cryptic note, he floated across the room to his other half, Mother Nature. She squealed with delight as he copped a feel of her outstanding bottom. She showered him with hugs and kisses as the Sins looked on with envy.

“Is everyone here?” I asked as I began to count guests.

“Not quite, Krumecaca,” came a jolly voice from behind me.

I rolled my eyes and giggled.

The Kev had arrived and I was sure he had my BFF Gemma with him. They were Fairies and Gemma was the long lost Fairy Queen. They had a Hell of an adventure in front of them, but for now they were here supporting me.

Turning around to greet my friends I froze and slapped my hand over my mouth. The Kev never used his real face and body, it was far too beautiful to look upon. Nope, he chose visages that either amused or pleased him—and today he’d gone all out.

“Santa?” Samuel whispered in awe as his small body shook with excitement.

Yep. The Kev had chosen Santa—and he was totally Santa in every way. He wore the red suit, had the belly, and the beard was one hundred percent real. I had to literally use my hand to close my mouth.

Blobbityflonk stood next to Samuel trembling in anticipation even more than my child was.

“Gampyflubygahvie?” the baboon gasped.

“Yes. In the flesh,” The Kev bellowed as he chuckled. His big belly jiggled like a bowl full of jelly.

Gemma, dressed in an elf costume, stood by with a sweet smile on her stunning face. She winked at me and put her hand on The Kev’s shoulder as he was dive-bombed by my child and our new family pet.

The squeals of delight made me forget about the disaster that surrounded us. My son’s pure joy at Santa’s arrival made me want to dive bomb The Kev myself.

He was pretty fucking perfect… flaws and all.

“I’d just like to point out that Santa is simply Satan misspelled,” the Devil announced with grandeur as he sauntered across the charred room and tried to steal Samuel’s attention back from Jolly Old Saint The Kev. “So if any of you bastards thought I wasn’t part of Christmas, you are sadly mistaken. My fingers are in everything.”

“Including his ass,” I mumbled as I watched my son graciously include Beelzebub in his hug-fest.

“Is he serious?” Gemma asked, bewildered as she unsuccessfully tried to hide her laughter.

“Yes. Yes, he is,” I confirmed with an exaggerated eye roll.

There was no way in Hell Samuel would forget this Christmas, no matter how much I wanted him to.

“May I have everyone’s attention please,” Mother Nature called out.

Everyone quieted immediately. No one fucked with or disobeyed Mother Nature.

“I have a surprise,” she said as Grandpa grinned at her like a besotted old fool.

“Oh Hell to the no,” Ethan groaned as he joined me and Gemma.

“Not sure I can take any more surprises, Gigi,” I said with a shudder.

“You shall love this one, my dear granddaughter,” she promised. “To the kitchen everyone!”

***

The kitchen was immaculate as it was rarely used. Vampyres didn’t eat. Food was the thing I probably missed the most about being human.

Gemma had a special magic that she shared with me. Whatever she ate I could taste in her blood if I drank from her. It was wonderful, but it wasn’t the same as chowing down on a huge bowl of black raspberry ice cream or a loaded pizza.

“I have cooked up a feast for you,” Mother Nature told the now terrified crowd.

I swear I heard a few whimpers. If I could breathe, I would have heaved a ginormous sigh of relief. Today I was thankful that I didn’t eat. My grandmother’s cooking was unspeakably horrific. Pompei was demolished because her family hated her cake—true story.

“Thank you, Gigi,” I said, feeling sorry for my friends who would have to choke down some of the dishes my grandma had made. “That is, um… lovely of you.”

“Ahhhhhhh… ” she cooed. “But wait! I can only do this every thousand years or so due to some asinine rules, but I can make it so the Vampyres can eat!”

“What?” I gagged out, praying I’d heard her incorrectly.

Without another word, Mother Nature flung her hands around and did a few bump and grind moves that had my child giggling. She shouted in a language I vaguely understood and then all the Vamps in the room collapsed to the floor—including me.

“Um… Gigi, is this supposed to happen?” I asked.

My body felt as if it weighed a thousand pounds and I just wanted to sleep.

“Oh shit,” she muttered distractedly. “Haven’t done this one in a few thousand years. I do believe I’m supposed to roll my hips to the left instead of the right and I should do a booty shake in the place of the pelvic thrust.”

“Get on with it,” Ethan snapped as he tried in vain to pull himself up off the floor.

“No need to be rude, young man,” Gigi chastised.

She did her new and alarming dance. After she produced a few un-ladylike grunts and a poof of pink and blue glitter, we all regained the use of our bodies.

I stood and checked my baby. He was as happy as a pig in poop all wrapped up in Santa’s arms with his baboon hanging off of Santa’s neck. The Kev was enjoying himself tremendously and I was humbled.

I had very good friends.

“Now. Let’s eat,” Mother Nature shouted. “There are pies and cakes and I made my famous chili. Dig in folks.”

Even my grandpa had turned an unbecoming shade of green. The Sins had stealthily slunk out of the room. I wanted to bust them, but I wasn’t that mean. If they were able to escape eating Gigi’s cooking, then more power to them. Sadly, I knew my absence would be noticed.

Shitshitshit.

No one moved toward the food except Martha and Jane, who were either gluttons for punishment or weren’t aware of Mother Nature’s appalling lack of cooking skills.

“Sweet Sarah Palin in a three way,” Jane exclaimed after she downed a bowl of chili in one swallow. “This is fucking amazing.”

Maybe they didn’t have taste buds.

Mother Nature squealed in delight and hugged Jane so tight I thought poor Jane’s head might pop off. I was certain the old bag’s compliment was the first Gigi had ever received about her cooking. Ever.

“Did you try dessert?” Mother Nature asked excitedly as she yanked both Martha and Jane over to the array of sweets.

She waited with baited breath as the old ladies polished off half a cake each.

“I’d like the recipe for this one,” Martha said as she put the rest of the cake into her purse to eat later. “I detect lemon and honey and dare I say frog legs?”

“Oh my Heavens, YES!” Mother Nature shrieked with joy as she danced around the room. “I was going to use salami, but I thought the frog legs made the dish more exotic.”

“Tastes like chicken,” Jane said with a nod of appreciation. “Excellent.”

“Isn’t anyone hungry?” Mother Nature demanded.

“Well, you see… uh,” I stuttered. “I told everyone it was only very, very, very, light hor d’oeuvres and I’m sure everyone already ate.”

I finished my lie with a faux sad shake of my head.

“Is this true?” she asked with narrowed eyes and pursed lips.

The nods were vigorous.

“Steve Perry, you must be hungry. When did the idiots kidnap you?” Gigi asked.

“I’m Vegan,” Steve replied quickly. “I’m so sorry.”

His relief made me giggle. I wasn’t sure if the Vegan thing was true, but I sent him a covert thumbs up. There was no way Steve Perry knew about my grandmother’s cooking. He was just a very smart man.

“No worries,” Mother Nature told him. “And the rest of you?”

“I drank a vat of blood before I came,” Venus apologized profusely. “If I’d only know I would have abstained.”

“Me too,” shouted a chorus of every undead person in the room.

Clearly Gigi’s culinary reputation preceded her.

The silence felt year-long and I was worried my kitchen was about to turn into a jungle.

“Well,” she said slowly as if she was thinking it out as she said it. “Martha and Jane, you ladies are in luck. It’s all yours!”

“Hot damn,” Martha shouted, and she and Jane high-fived each other in glee.

The cheers from the crowd in the kitchen were deafening and the relief was palpable. The bullet had been dodged—at least for another thousand years.

“Astrid, maybe I could call in some favors on the Vampyre eating thing and cater your wedding,” Gigi suggested. “I know a few old bastards that owe me.”

“I don’t want you to do anything that would put you in a bad position,” I insisted as diplomatically as I could. What I wanted to do was gag and scream. I was certain I’d just paled to a shade short of real death.

“Not a problem at all,” she assured me with a delighted smile. “All those fuckers ask me for things all the time. It’s my turn to borrow a little power.”

“Sounds great,” I choked out with what I prayed passed as a smile.

“Oh fuck,” Ethan muttered from behind me.

He was correct.

I was now going to have to arrange to have spit buckets discreetly placed all over at my wedding. My friends will need to purge without being noticed.

I’d get on that tomorrow.

I still had to get through today.

Chapter 9

“Jesus Christ,” Satan groused as we all made our way back to what used to be the Great Room.

We’d spent an hour and a half in the kitchen watching in horror as Martha and Jane had consumed almost all of what Gigi had brought. The leftovers, they shoved in their purses.

“Oh my Hell, is he here?” I asked frantically.

I ran over to the mantle area and tried to brush my cousin’s busted little namesakes under what was formerly a couch. I’d not met my cousin yet. I’d only met God, but Jesus hadn’t been present. It was sad I had very little in the way of decorations or presents to celebrate his birthday.

“Is who here?” my uncle asked confused.

“Jesus,” I snapped, exasperated. “Is Jesus here?”

“Not that I know of,” he replied as he scanned the crowd.

“You just said Jesus Christ.”

“Yes,” he replied with an evil little smirk. “I enjoy using my nephew’s name as an expletive.”

“You’re an ass,” I told him.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” he shot back with a hearty laugh.

The next visual I witnessed would be branded in my brain for eternity. It was fucking unbelievable. Six of the seven Sins came rushing back into the room. Obviously they’d realized brunch was over. It wasn’t the speed with which they re-entered—nope—it was what they were wearing. I had no clue how they found the heinous ensembles considering mine was an accident, but they’d done it.

All six were sporting midriff sweaters and men’s boxer briefs cinched in the front with a hair elastic. I bit back my scream of laughter and buried my head in my hands.

All six gave me victorious glares and proudly posed for pictures.

If it wasn’t so damned funny it would be pathetic. I shook my head and focused back in on my more sane guests.

I wondered if God and Jesus would even come. They’d RSVP’d yes, but they were notorious no-shows. Honestly, it would probably be better if they didn’t come. This had turned out to be a clusterfuck.

However, when it rains… it pours.

Tiny, glittering, white lights appeared and shot gently around the room. They bathed the disaster in golden light. My friends and family stopped whatever they were doing and watched in awe as the glowing orbs bounced and played. Satan was the only eye roller.

Samuel cooed with delight as he and Blobbityflonk tore around the room and tried to touch the sparkling bubbles. My stomach tightened and I desperately tried to tidy up the mess a little bit… yet another exercise in futility.

“Stop,” Ethan said as he took my hand and forced me to live in the moment.

I watched as my posse beheld the magical light with reverence and joy. Some held hands, some hugged each other—it was odd. How could some bouncing light cause us to forget the disaster that surrounded us?

And then they arrived… but Jesus was missing.

God and a small Asian woman walked in as if they knew the place—like they’d visited a million times. There were no expressions of shock or dismay at the mass destruction. No judgment at the blown out wall or the scorched remains of the tree.

There were smiles on their faces and God waved happily at those he knew and those he didn’t. His little Asian gal pal did the same.

My Baby Demons floated around God’s head chattering a mile a minute while God chuckled at their stories. I sure as shit hoped they weren’t regaling him with their recent trip to the zoo.

He was mobbed quickly and I stood on the outside looking in. I didn’t know what to say anyway. He was freakin’ God after all.

“Hello, Astrid,” God’s little Asian gal said as she parted the crowd and approached.

Shitballs.

I wracked my brain and tried to remember if God had replied with a plus one and a name. I had no clue who this woman was, but she seemed to know me.

“Hi,” I said politely and put my hand out to shake.

She laughed and opened her arms for an embrace.

I shrugged and complied, wanting to be polite. Maybe everyone was very huggy in Heaven. It made sense to me.

In her arms I felt so calm and peaceful it was bizarre. I didn’t want her to ever let me go.

Like… never. The feeling was very strange.

“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, my cousin,” she whispered as I held on tight.

Wait. What?

“You’re Jesus?” I stammered the question as I pulled back, stunned.

She nodded and smiled. She seemed to greatly enjoy my confusion.

“But, I thought… you know… that you were a man with a beard, white robes and a halo,” I explained haltingly. “The guy with the long hair and sandals and holes in your hands and feet. You know… I thought you would be the fish and loaves dude.”

I stopped talking. I felt like an idiot and had no clue what would come out of my mouth next. The entire room had paused their revelry to watch our exchange.

“Look at me, Astrid. Truly see me,” she urged.

And I did.

It was like a movie, but it was so very real.

I stared at the woman who said she was my cousin. Each time I blinked she was someone else—an old wrinkled black man, a young peace-loving stoner, a harried white mother, a Middle Eastern child, an African merchant, a soldier, a helpless baby, a homeless beggar. It went on and on. The faces were endless. I was struck mute.

Jesus was simply amazing and I didn’t even deserve to be in his or her presence.

“I am every man and every woman,” my cousin said, acknowledging my uncertainty and confusion. “I am no better or no less than anyone. I just pick who I am in the mood to be and wear that person around until something else calls me.”

“Do you ever have an identity crisis?” I asked and heard the titters in the crowd.

I didn’t care. I knew Jesus wouldn’t laugh at me.

“No, my cousin, I don’t. Everything you see is part of who I am and who I choose to be. Who I was always meant to be.”

“Are you normal?” I asked and then slapped my hand over my filter-less mouth.

“Are you?” Jesus countered with a grin.

“Define normal and then I’ll answer,” I mumbled as I shared her smile.

“Would you prefer the bearded version with the halo?” Jesus asked with a tilt of her head.

I considered it for a moment. I wondered if the familiar would be more comfortable. I laughed. Nothing in my world was familiar anymore and I realized I didn’t give a rat’s ass what my cousin chose to look like. Just being around such an extraordinary person brought me more comfort than I’d ever known.

“You’re beautiful just as you are,” I said. “Happy Birthday.”

“Thank you,” Jesus replied.

“I had it all planned out,” I explained with a wince as I glanced around the room. “It was so pretty and I had presents, a tree and a bunch of little Baby Jesuses on the mantle. Oh… wow, I guess those Baby Jesuses might be totally wrong… shit. Oh my Hell… sorry for swearing. I have a mouth like a sailor and um… ”

“My mommy have potty mouth,” Samuel said with a giggle as he toddled over and yanked on Jesus’s dress.

“Yes. I know she does,” Jesus said as she squatted down and took Samuel into her arms. “But is she a good mommy? Does she love you and protect you and teach you right from wrong?”

“Yes! My mommy is the bestest mommy in the world,” Samuel told Jesus solemnly. “I love her and my daddy most of all.”

“Then bad words are simply just letters put together. Not a problem. Sometimes I even say a bad word,” Jesus admitted with a smile.

“Ohhhhhhh… ” Samuel whispered as he clapped his little hands together. “Which one?”

“That’s my secret,” Jesus said with a laugh. “Do you like to sing Samuel?”

“Me love to sing,” he replied as he snuggled closer to Jesus.

I knew he was feeling the same peaceful calm that I did. I was a teeny tiny bit jealous, but I’d trade my life for my son’s. I loved watching him be cradled in Jesus’s arms.

“We sing,” Martha and Jane said as they approached Jesus and offered her some of the cake from their purses. “We won American Idol in Zanthia.”

Their pride was evident and Jesus smiled her approval.

“What did you do with your winnings?” she asked as she politely declined Mother Nature’s cooking.

“Um… well,” Jane mumbled and looked at the ground in shame.

“We lost it to Mister Rogers, playing poker,” Martha admitted guiltily.

“Hmmmm… interesting,” Jesus replied with disapproval.

“Actually, it was all given to charity,” Mr. Rogers announced from the entryway. “I never keep my winnings.”

“Hello Fred,” Jesus said with a laugh. “I approve of your methods.”

“Wait,” Satan blustered. “You mean to tell me all the money you ever won off me went to those less fortunate?”

“Yep,” Mr. Rogers said as he sat down on a chair that had miraculously made it through the explosion and changed his tennis shoes.

“Appalling,” Satan groused. “First my daughter Dixie robs me for the poor, and now Mr. Rogers?”

“Looks that way, Uncle,” Jesus told him.

Jesus’ serene manner even had an effect on the Devil. Satan simply shrugged and chuckled instead of throwing a fit.

Miracles really did happen.

“So, I hear you have a birthday now,” God said to his brother with a sneaky grin.

“Yes, I do,” Satan shot back with his head high. “It will completely obscure Christmas after a few years.”

“Good luck with that,” God replied with a chuckle.

“I don’t need luck,” Satan snapped. “My birthday, April first, shall go down in infamy.”

“Wait… isn’t that day… ” Heathcliff started.

“Sooooooooo… ” Mother Nature bellowed effectively cutting my Vampyre cousin off before he revealed that Beelzebub was a fool. “I believe Jesus thinks we should sing. Isn’t that right dear?”

“Yes, grandmother. I do,” Jesus replied.

And we did.

We formed a big circle and held hands. I felt like I was in Whoville on Christmas morning just waiting for the Grinch to grow a heart and save the day… but maybe the day didn’t need to be saved.

Satan grumbled about holding hands and playing nice, but complied after his mother threatened to smite his pants. He didn’t sing—which was a good thing—but he joined in the circle.

We sang all the Christmas carols we knew and a bunch we didn’t.

Blobbityflonk sang a holiday ditty he called, Groopawankapeelees. He sang with so much gusto it was all I could do not to laugh.

Even Ethan smiled at the baboon’s antics. Maybe it wouldn’t be too hard to convince him to let us keep the hairy mess.

Steve Perry treated us to a version of Silent Night that brought tears to us all.

We ended with singing Happy Birthday to my cousin and passing hugs all around.

It was perfect—flaws and all.

My son’s eyes had been alight with pure joy the afternoon into the evening. We never even got to the presents. We didn’t need them.

Christmas was about love and family. I had love and I had a family.

I was rich regardless of my bank account or what was in my ruined closet.

After more conversation and many embraces, everyone left with promises to visit soon.

Heathcliff made a few calls and a crew of construction specialists would get started on the compound in the morning.

Mother Nature offered to take Blobbityflonk with her, but to my surprise and delight, Ethan stopped her. I wasn’t going to have to bargain to keep the baboon after all.

Satan volunteered to return Steve Perry home, but the singer of Journey fame politely and very firmly declined. Mr. Rogers ended up with the task, much to Steve Perry’s relief. We had plans to hang out in a few weeks and I was really looking forward to it.

The Devil had a mini fit, but I saw him make a note of my outing with Steve Perry. He was certain to show up unexpectedly. Whatever. An obsession was an obsession and my Uncle had it bad.

At last we were alone. Just me, Ethan, Samuel and our new pet, Blobbityflonk. Samuel was sound asleep, cuddled in his father’s arms with his thumb securely in his mouth. Blobbityflonk could barely keep his baboon eyes open.

“They’ll be fine. Come with me and let’s put them to bed. I have a present for you,” Ethan whispered as not to wake up our baby.

“I have nothing for you. Yours got burned up under the tree,” I said regretfully.

“Not that kind of present,” he said with a smile. “Just follow me.”

And I did.

I would follow him till the end of time.

Chapter 10

I cried out in astonishment as I stared at the neat as a pin nursery that had been a freakin’ mess only hours ago.

“How in the Hell did you do this?” I asked as I walked around the room and inspected it.

Everything was back in order. My son had no clothes, but all the furniture and bedding had been restored.

“Pam did it,” he said quietly as he tucked Samuel in.

Blobbityflonk made himself comfortable on the floor right next to Sammy’s bed. He sighed a big happy baboon sigh and closed his eyes. The hairy bastard was ours, for better or worse.

“When?” I asked as I lightly kissed my baby.

“We snuck away for a bit and got some business done,” he said as he turned Samuel’s nightlight on and gently pulled me from the room.

“Now one more surprise,” he added with a grin. “Close your eyes.”

“Your wish is my command.” I giggled and obeyed.

“I like the way that sounds.” He kissed my forehead as he took me in his arms. “Hold on.”

We transported to our suite. I knew by scent where we were. I was mystified as to why the smoky smell was gone. There was no way Pam had time to fix up our rooms too.

“Open,” he instructed.

“Holy shit,” I gasped out. “Pam is amazing!”

“Right?” Ethan said as he watched me run around our suite.

No smoke smell, no water logged carpets, but also no clothes.

Whatever. Shopping was a hobby of mine and I was quite talented at it.

“I need a shower. Badly,” I said as I glanced down at my atrocious outfit. “Wanna join me?”

“I don’t know. I’m really tired,” he said with an enormous and oh so fake yawn.

“That’s okay. I’m good with my hands. I don’t need you anyway.”

“What?” I heard him shout as I sprinted to the bathroom and turned on the hot water.

I giggled as he burst in and removed his clothes with Vampyre speed. As the room steamed up, so did we. Ethan’s body was a work of art and it was very excited to see me.

“There is an Egyptian Fuck Basket in the closet,” I reminded him as I tore off what used to be my sweater dress, tossed it in the garbage and yanked off his borrowed boxer briefs. I really missed my panties.

“And your point?” he inquired as he pulled fluffy towels out of the linen closet.

“No point. Just an observation.”

“I’m not against trying it out,” he said as he took my hand and led me to the shower. “I just have no intention of letting you go tonight, so the basket thing doesn’t really appeal.”

“I’m following your line of thought and liking it,” I said as I rubbed myself suggestively against him.

The shower was warm and I doused myself in Heavenly smelling bubbles. Ethan took great care washing every inch of my body—every inch.

“Do I get to wash you?” I asked when I was totally clean from my head to my toes.

“Nope,” he said with a smirk as he seated me on the shower bench.

The shower was enormous, just like everything else in our home.

“How is that fair?” I huffed.

“You get to watch,” he replied as he ran his hands over his beautiful body.

I could live with that.

I never knew how erotic watching a man bathe himself could be. I squirmed as I observed him handling himself. He was much rougher than I would have been and it was hotter than Hell.

Water sluiced down his magnificent muscular body and it was all I could do to sit still. I wanted him so badly I could taste it.

His fangs had dropped and his eyes glowed green. His carnal grin sent me over the edge. I stood and slammed my needy body against his.

Foreplay was over. I needed to get laid. Immediately.

“Thank you for today,” I said as I ran my hands over his wide shoulders and scraped my fangs along his collarbone.

“Thank you for what?” he asked gruffly as he cupped my swollen breasts in his large hands.

“For being you and loving me, even though I’m nuts and come with a ton of baggage,” I told him as I slid down his wet body and stopped when I was eye level with one of my favorite parts.

“You are perfect.” He moaned and let his head fall back as I ran my tongue over the physical evidence of his love for me.

“Nope,” I disagreed as I cupped his heavy sac in my hand and gently squeezed. “I am perfectly flawed. Much more interesting,” I explained before I took him in my mouth and sucked.

The sexy sounds coming from deep in his chest spurred me on. The profanities he spewed as I lightly ran my fangs along his shaft almost made me come.

“Get up here, Astrid,” he demanded and all parts south of my belly button clenched in anticipation. “If you don’t stop that I’m going to come,” he hissed.

I grinned and lightly bit him

“Isn’t that the point?” I asked as I let him pull me to my feet.

“Yes,” he agreed with eyes full of lust. “But I plan to be deep inside you when I come.”

Holy Hell, he was hot.

His head descended and his lips took mine in a kiss that should have been outlawed.

With strong hands, he grabbed my hair and held me still for the onslaught of his mouth. His tongue mimicked what I knew his body was going to do very soon.

“So fucking sexy,” he murmured against my lips as he ground his erection into my stomach.

My body felt molten and my legs were jelly. I held on and wantonly begged for more with my body.

“I need you,” I whispered.

“All in good time, lover,” he said with a sexy crooked grin.

His hands and lips were everywhere at once. Electricity shot through me as he pierced my nipple with his fangs and pressed two large fingers into me at the same time. I jerked and writhed with abandon. An orgasm ripped through me as his hands and tongue worked their magic.

“Kiss me,” I begged as my body rocked with aftershocks.

Our fangs clashed as the kiss and our desire deepened.

“Have to fuck you,” he ground out as he turned me around and pushed my legs wider apart. “I need all of you.”

With water raining down on us and our lust for each other the only focus, he entered me with one swift thrust. We both cried out and my body tightened like a vice around him as orgasm number two overtook me.

“I love you,” I said as tremors shot through me.

“Love you more,” he said huskily as he started to move.

I held the wall for purchase and let him have me any way he wanted. His thickness and the way he drove himself into my body was perfection with no flaws.

His speed increased and I gave back as good as I was getting.

I was whole. I was complete with this man inside me.

“Oh god, Ethan,” I cried out as my entire body tingled like a live wire.

“You make me crazy,” he growled as he slammed his body into mine. “Can’t get enough.”

The intensity escalated and I held on for dear life. A sensual heat coiled low in my belly and I knew I was about to go over again.

“Come,” Ethan demanded as he fucked me like he owned me.

I did.

With no problem whatsoever.

Colors blazed across my vision and I screamed. His shout of ecstasy was music to my ears as we came together. I felt his release and clenched my body around him. I wanted to stay locked together like this forever.

The light kisses down my spine slowly brought me back to reality. I hissed with displeasure as he pulled out. His laugh of pure masculine satisfaction made me giggle-groan.

“No worries, baby. We’re going to do it again as soon as we hit the bed,” he promised.

“You can get it up again?” I teased as I held onto him.

My legs were fairly worthless at the moment. And I felt like a child as he wrapped me in a fluffy towel, scooped me up and carried me to the bedroom.

“I’m a Vampyre, my sexy little mate,” he purred with an amused glint in his eyes. “I can get it up and keep it up.”

“Wow,” I exclaimed, pressed my hands to my non-beating heart and batted my eyelashes like a good Southern gal knew how to do from birth. “I’m a lucky girl.”

“Actually,” he replied as he tossed my naked body on the bed, fell down beside me and then took me in his arms like I was delicate and breakable. “I’m the lucky one.”

“How about this?” I suggested as I cuddled as close as I could without literally crawling inside him. “We’re both lucky and we have to promise never to take it for granted, no matter what life… or… um… death throws at us.”

“I can live with that,” he said as he planted a really good one on my lips. “Till real death do us part and not even then.”

“Speaking of that… are you ready to be with my whole family again at the wedding?” I asked with a shudder.

I wasn’t sure if I was ready to endure my entire family in one room again for the rest of my long life.

“No,” he replied. “However, I will do anything for you. Always.”

“Back at ya, sexy,” I said with everything I felt for him shining out of my eyes. “Merry Christmas, Ethan.”

“Merry Christmas, Astrid.”

And then he proved that he could indeed keep it up all night.

It was awesome—the best Christmas of my life.

# # # The End… for now # # #

Thank You For Reading

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KEEP READING in this ebook to read an excerpt from
FASHIONABLY HOTTER THAN HELL, Book 6 of The Hot Damned Series

I’ve also included some information about other releases and plans for 2016.

Excerpt from FASHIONABLY HOTTER THAN HELL

Prologue

"If you tell anyone, I will deny it and decapitate you," she said casually as she pulled her panties on.

"Noted," I replied as I watched her through hooded lids and pondered what it would take to get her to remove the offending scrap of material and go for another round. Was I insane? Yep. Did I have a death wish? Absolutely.

"I just said I would remove your head and that's all you have to say?" she demanded.

"Depends on which head you're talking about."

"Oh my God. I cannot believe you just said that," she yelled and hurled a lamp at my head.

Ducking the light fixture, I rolled off the bed and donned my jeans. I winked as I caught her ogling my backside. "I heard you and I raise you one. I will deflower, deny, and decapitate. Damn." I shook my head sadly while grinning from ear to ear. "Already deflowered...two hundred years ago."

"You're an ass," she hissed as she yanked on the rest of her clothes, covering a body that was made for sin. However, the mouth left much to be desired. Well, not when it was wrapped around my...

"This was a mistake that will not be repeated," she informed me haughtily as she twisted her red curls into some kind of sexy looking bird’s nest on the top of her head. "Never going to happen again."

Who was she trying to convince? Herself? Me? We'd been playing this game for quite a while. I was tempted to make a wager with her since she had a hard time passing up a bet or a dare, but that could backfire on me in a large way.

"Heard that one before, Red." I slid my shirt over my head and quickly sidestepped a left hook from the insane woman I'd just given eight consecutive orgasms to.

"My name is not Red. If you value your jewels you will remember that," she snapped as she strapped a dagger to the sexiest thigh I'd ever seen.

Why were the hot ones certifiable? I slid my katana into its sheath and waited patiently for the next insult. Was I a glutton for punishment? You bet, but it was worth every damned second.

"You know," she purred, "you're not really that good."

"Interesting," I commented as I slipped a knife into my boot. "That's not what you screamed ten minutes ago."

The look on her face was priceless. The next words from her mouth...not so much.

"I faked it."

Rolling my eyes, I wondered for a sickening moment if that was true and immediately decided it was bullshit. I was over two hundred years old. I knew when a woman faked it. Didn't I?

I shrugged and chuckled. "Well, that's too bad because I enjoyed the Hell out of it. Especially when you screamed my name and your body clamped itself around my..."

"Enough," she shouted as she practically sprinted to the door. "You're an arrogant son of a bitch and I can't stand the sight of you. You will never touch me again. I will no longer slum it with lowlife asscranks like you and your big mouth and your big ego and your big..."

"Dick?" I asked politely.

"In your dreams," she informed me over her shoulder as she hightailed it out of my suite like the Devil was on her heels.

I flopped back down on my bed and smiled. Now I knew she was lying...

Score one for me.

Chapter 1

Later that afternoon...

All Hell had broken loose. I hadn't had so much fun in ages. Literally.

"Bet you can't nail my head," I challenged with a smirk. Riling her up was my favorite pastime.

"Bet this, jackass," she shouted as she hurled something colorful and large.

The object flew through the air like a speeding bullet. I couldn't even make out what it was.

"Shrew," I shot back with a laugh as I ducked. The crash was loud. I winced as I realized she'd just annihilated an ancient Ming vase.

"Moor dweller," she hissed as she flung another irreplaceable artifact at my head.

"Very clever," I replied as I dodged the incoming projectile.

"I thought so...Heathcliff," she purred.

Her smile was infuriating and lamentably hot. The room was decimated. There was very little else to break except for her...

It would be far easier to be in a room with the abomination if I didn't want to kill her or bed her. I was torn between which one would give me more satisfaction...tearing her arm off or losing myself inside of her body. Unfortunately neither was a viable option at the present time. Her fiery red curls had fallen out of the mess on her head and fell loosely down her back. Her creamy skin tempted me to distraction. She was every man's fantasy and my personal nightmare. Even the sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose, which she usually disguised with glamour were making my pants tight and uncomfortable at the moment.

Working as a team had been a tremendously bad idea, evidenced by the rubble that used to be Prince Ethan's study--my dearest friend and brother to the nightmare that was staring daggers at me from five feet away. Thankfully Ethan's son, young Samuel, our one and only student, had not been present for the latest showdown between his teacher, her and his fight coach, me.

I'd simply leave the room. That was far more mature than throwing her over my knee and spanking her. Or, God forbid, stripping her down and fucking her into submission on the couch we had destroyed in our melee. Leaving would ensure that she lived another day in her long immortal life and that I wouldn't be brought up on charges for killing a Princess—no matter how much she deserved it.

I stiffly turned to go and was shoved right back into the room by my cousin Astrid, the mother of the child we were supposed to be teaching.

"What in Satan's slightly misguided obsession with Journey happened to this office?" Astrid demanded as she stormed into the room and plopped down on what used to be a priceless antique settee. "Motherfucker, this chair just stabbed me in the ass."

"Ask Wuthering Heights," the flame haired viper snapped as she pointed at me with her middle finger—definitely not an accident on her part.

I glanced up at the ceiling hoping against hope it would give me the strength not to rip an appendage from her body. I'd had enough of the Wuthering Heights slams. Yes, I was named after a literary character. And yes, my sister was named Cathy. However, my mother had been friends with Emily Brontë...hence the names. I'd come to terms with it hundreds of years ago...or so I'd thought.

"So Cousin Heathcliff..." Astrid said as she grinned at me. "Care to enlighten me?"

"Not particularly," I told her. "Why don't you ask the lady?"

My nightmare blushed in fury. Her delicate hands fisted at her sides and her eyes blazed green, which delighted me to no end and made the erection in my pants even more painful. Vampyres didn't blush, but this one did—an anomaly that fascinated me.

"Raquel?" Astrid questioned as her head bobbed back and forth between us like a spectator at a tennis match.

"He has anger issues," Raquel spat.

"Pot, kettle, black," I muttered.

"Plus he keeps daring me," she said as if it were all my fault.

"Well, I can certainly understand that," Astrid said. She gave me the stink eye while acting as if the bullshit Raquel just spouted made sense. "However, do you think you guys could take this outside instead of destroying my house?"

"Ask him," Raquel said without looking at me.

"You're buying this crap from her?" I demanded of my cousin.

Astrid shrugged and grinned.

Raquel completely ignored me and went on. "Anyway, he's a chauvinistic pig who clearly comes from a line of pigs. I can't be expected to work with him."

Astrid was enjoying herself far too much. She found a clutter free spot on the floor and got comfortable. My cousin, too many times removed to remember the number, loved drama—especially drama that she didn't create.

"You do realize you just called me a swine oh sister in law," Astrid said as Raquel blanched.

My mother had been Astrid's grandmother several hundred years after she had given birth to my sister and myself. While at first it had been awkward and alarming since Astrid and I mistakenly thought we were attracted to each other, it turned out to be a blessing. The logistics of our heritage were complicated. Easiest and shortest way to explain--reincarnation on my mother's part.

"I didn't mean you," Raquel replied contritely.

"Heathcliff is my thirty-fourth or seventy-eighth cousin," Astrid told her as she played with the shattered pieces of a vase that was older than dirt. "So while he may be all those other things, his line is pristine."

Even I had to roll my eyes at that one. I was a Vampyre and Astrid was half Vampyre and half Demon. Pristine was pushing it.

"Raquel, come with me," Astrid said as she got up and stepped on an ancient scroll. Both the bane of my existence and I winced at that one. "We'll find Samuel and you can teach him quantum physics or some other equally redonkulous bullshit like algebra."

"My pleasure," Raquel said as she waved goodbye to me with her middle finger and flounced out of the room.

That would definitely be the first body part I would remove.

"Heathcliff, you wait here. Ethan wants to talk with you."

The sound of Raquel's laughter as she sped down the hall made me grind my fangs. She wouldn't have the last laugh. Nope, I'd make sure of that.

***

"She's a pain in the ass and as difficult as they come, but she's brilliant and she's my sister. You will make this work. And for God's sake stop betting her or daring her to do things—she can't stop herself," Ethan said tersely.

My oldest and closest friend ran his hands through his hair in frustration as he took in his office. I glanced around at the disaster and looked down at the floor. I never lost control. Ever. That woman was knocking me off of my game and I didn't like it.

"She not difficult. She's a fucking menace," I told him. There simply had to be another way.

"Correct." Ethan grinned, enjoying my pain. He was just as bad as his mate, Astrid. "You two are it. Astrid and I trust you with the life of our son and that is not something we do lightly."

"She blushes," I said.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Raquel blushes," I repeated.

Ethan busied himself with trying to piece together a statue that had been the victim of Raquel's wrath. He ignored my query.

"It's not normal," I went on.

"Nothing about my sister is normal. Nothing about her is typical and most of what I know about her defies logic. However, that's her story to tell. Not mine. Furthermore, you are both related by blood to my son and unfortunately the two of you are the most qualified to teach him what he needs to know," Ethan snapped as he tossed the statue into a wastebasket. "My child is six months old. He's the size of a four year old. He can turn people’s skin all colors of the rainbow, not to mention he can conjure Trolls and Gnomes." Ethan shuddered. "He's been kidnapped by Fairies and he needs to be trained to defend himself. Not sure how much clearer you need me to make this."

"Then let me teach him to fight and send her back to the rock she lives under," I shot back. "He doesn't need to know his multiplication tables to kill a Troll."

"And that is where you are wrong, my friend," Ethan said. "His mind is a wonder. We need to feed it and keep it occupied so he stops animating stuffed animals that have death wishes."

"You're joking."

"No, I'm not joking. Not even a little fucking bit," Ethan ground out. "Have you ever been attacked and almost decapitated by an army of orange and blue teddy bears?"

I was speechless.

"I thought not," Ethan said wearily. "Add to that a fire breathing purple plastic dragon and a dagger throwing headless doll. My son thinks this is funny."

"It actually is kind of funny."

The glare I received made me bite back the tasteless dragon joke that was on the tip of my tongue. Samuel was not just a Prince and the child of Astrid and Ethan. He was a True Immortal--one of nine. God was Good. Satan was Evil. Mother Nature was Emotion, her husband, the father of Satan was Wisdom. Hayden, the Angel of Death was Death. Elijah, the Angel of Light was Life. Dixie, Satan's daughter was Balance, her half-sister Lucy was Temptation. Astrid was Compassion and Samuel was Utopia--a combination of all of them. That kid had one Hell of a row to hoe.

"I knew this would be difficult," Ethan admitted, "but it is what it is. You will do this because I have asked you and you will do it well."

"Yes, I will, but I will not be responsible if your sister loses a few limbs."

There was no choice in the matter. I had no issue with training the child. I adored him and it was an honor to have been asked. However, getting along with the shrew was difficult at best and impossible at worst.

"As long as it's not her head then I'm fine with that. Just don't do it in front of my child," Ethan said. "Clear?"

"Clear."

It was a promise I didn't know if I could keep.

Chapter 2

"Me can't eat pie. Me a Vampyre just like you," Samuel explained to Raquel as I watched from my seat at the desk in Ethan's newly renovated office. I pretended to be absorbed in a folder filled with fighting techniques, but I was truly fighting to keep my eyes off of Raquel. She was a witch and I was determined to break the psychotic spell she had on me. Clearly screwing her out of my system wasn't working. I'd been doing that for two hundred years with no clear end in sight. My pants were killing me at the moment. Embarrassingly, not even Samuel's presence could quell my desire.

The furniture in the office had been replaced with finds from yard sales since we had destroyed a small fortune due to our skirmishes. The ragtag desks and chairs looked ridiculous in the grand office with the marble floors and cathedral ceilings, but it was a wise move on Ethan's part. We could not be trusted around priceless objects.

"It's not the kind of pie you eat," Raquel corrected him with a giggle and a kiss. "It's math. You can't eat math."

Why didn't she ever giggle at anything I said? Where in the Hell did that come from? I pressed my fingers to the bridge of my nose and went back to the paperwork in front of me. Astrid, my only and least favorite cousin at the moment, had decided Raquel and I would work with Samuel together. It would force us not to kill each other, or so she thought. She was wrong. I knew if need be I could distract Sammy with something shiny and dismember my foe in two seconds flat. The major problem with that scenario was the she could potentially do the same thing to me. I might outweigh and outmuscle her, but her rabid desire to maim couldn't be discounted.

She was dangerous to my concentration, my life and most definitely my libido.

"Do you remember what I told you about pi? What a big number it is?" she asked Samuel as she pointed to a passage in a book.

Sammy closed his eyes and slammed his chunky little hands over the numbers.

"The first fifty numbers in dethimal digits are 3.1415926535 8979323846 2643383279 5028841971 6939937510. Is me right?" he asked as he peeked under his hand.

"Um, yes," Raquel choked out. "How did you know that? We haven't learned that yet."

"Me debided some stuff in my head, silly Raquel." He laughed and pulled on her red curls as he popped his thumb into his mouth with satisfaction.

"Very good," she whispered as her eyes caught mine in shock.

Did this kid even need us? Well he needed me, but his brain was a sieve. Maybe Raquel could go back to her dungeon and leave me to work with Samuel.

"Looks like he's smarter that you," I said as I got ready to duck in case the textbook came flying.

"Looks like you're still an ass," she shot back.

"Ass ass ass ass ass ass ass," Sammy chimed in gleefully as Raquel closed her eyes and dropped her head to the table in defeat.

Damn it, that was my fault, not hers. She would not get in trouble for teaching him the word ass when I goaded her into it.

"Samuel, an ass is a donkey--an animal similar to a horse. Aunt Raquel was referring to me as a strong and masterful horse with all of the massive parts that a horse has. She has hung a great honor on my head. Do you understand?" I asked. My double entendre was not lost on my enemy as she bit back a laugh and pretended to throw up. Grinning, I shrugged and blew her a kiss. Furthermore, I was not in the mood to be chastised for expanding his swearing vocabulary. His mother, Astrid was doing just fine with that on her own.

Raquel rolled her eyes dramatically swallowed her grin. However, she said nothing. Astrid had threatened to remove tongues if her boy learned new potty words. I liked my tongue and God knew I liked hers.

"Yes, Sammy," she agreed with me. "Although Heathcliff is a donkey. Donkeys are much smaller than horses in every way. In fact many would call them puny—tiny, puny and inconsequential. Unable to satisfy the needs of anything."

"That no make sense," Sammy said as he looked at me strangely.

"Trust me, little man." Raquel laughed wickedly. "It makes perfect sense."

It was a tie. God, she was fun to spar with. I couldn't remember the last time a woman had challenged me both in and out of the bedroom. Only problem was that we despised each other outside of the bedroom. Well, she despised me...

"Let's get back to work, little man," she said as she cuddled him and opened a thin volume of poetry.

"Raquel," Sammy whispered as he captured her face in his small hands. "Me love you so much."

He covered her cheeks in wet kisses and I froze as I watched the adoration shine from her eyes. She was childlike in her delight—innocent and young. Something in my gut clenched and I didn't like it or want it. Raquel needed to stay inhuman to me. I couldn't deal with anything more than what I perceived and wanted her to be—if I did it might destroy me. She pressed her forehead to his and held him tight.

"You no have to sleep anymore," he told her. He traced the sprinkling of freckles on her nose with his little finger as she paled and gaped at him.

"What?" she asked softly.

"You can love and not sleep. It be okay. You have to trust, silly pretty auntie." He grinned as she shook her head in confusion.

What the Hell was going on here?

"Samuel, what are you talking about?" Her mood changed abruptly. She was tense and extremely uncomfortable.

"You know." He giggled and buried his face in her neck. "It be time to stop sleeping. Too dangerous now."

Her manner had altered dramatically. She went from vulnerable and scared to strong and somewhat cold. Putting Samuel in the chair beside her, she stood and paced. She stopped dead in her tracks as she saw me observing her.

"You're still here," she said with unhappy surprise.

"Never left," I replied wondering what had just happened.

Samuel watched with curiosity as she circled the room. He cocked his head to the side and winked at me.

"Heathcwiff be the one to wake you up," he said with conviction.

"No," Raquel barked as Samuel ignored her and giggled. "Enough, Sammy. We are done for today. Heathcliff, please return him to his parents."

With a mumbled goodbye she raced from the room.

Closing the folder, I sat for a brief moment and pondered how to go about getting the information I wanted. No sleeping? I would wake her? What the Hell did that mean? I slowly crossed the room to a very calm and composed Samuel. He looked quite pleased with himself. The puzzle was killing me.

"Would you like to tell me what that was about?" I asked as I squatted in front of the boy genius.

He raised his eyebrows and gave me a look so reminiscent of his father I had to bite back a laugh.

"Is not Sammy's story to tell," he said as he put his thumb back in his mouth and watched me with narrowed eyes.

"But you might save Raquel some time if you let me in on the secret," I said logically. How hard was it to pry something out of a six month old child? Apparently very hard...

"You try to be tricky, Heathcwiff," Sammy yelled gleefully. "You no get me! Me too smart for you!"

"That you are, my little man. That you are."

***

"If you stopped playing hide the salami with her, daring her to do stupid shit and actually got to know her you'd probably save us a lot of money in home furnishings," Astrid said as she pulled me toward the Grand Ballroom. "I hate these fucking cocktail parties. I can't drink anything and so many of these Vamps bore me to tears."

"I have no clue what you mean," I insisted as I picked up my pace and tried to drag her into the ballroom so the conversation would end.

"Give me a break. Anyone with ears, bionic or not, could hear you two going at it this morning. Quit yanking on my arm," she snapped. "You know you like her. I can tell. I noticed it when we offed all those Demons at the Caves a couple of months ago."

Jesus, I didn't need this.

"I do not like her. She is rude and violent and..."

"And smokin' hot and you totally like her. Nothing gets by me," she informed me with a huge grin. "I think she's your mate."

"And I think you're smoking crack," I shot back.

My mate? Bullshit. I didn't need a mate who would joyously kill me when my back was turned. I didn't need a mate who threw Ming vases for a hobby. I didn't need a mate at all. Period. I was single, lonely and loving it. Wait. I was single and loving it.

"Not smoking crack." Astrid grinned and punched me in the arm. "Can't breathe—can't smoke. That's how I got into this shit show to start with."

Astrid had been turned into a Vamp when she went to a hypnotist to stop smoking and ended up undead. One of the strangest turnings I'd ever heard of, but what was done was done. She was clearly meant to be one of us as she was a True Immortal.

"Astrid," I said with a smile through clenched teeth. "While I appreciate your concern, Raquel is not my mate. I don't like her and she most definitely doesn't like me. I'd go as far to say that she hates me. So I can assure there will be no mating any time in the near future."

"You know, my cousin," she purred as we entered the ballroom, effectively ending our appalling talk. "There is a very thin line between love and hate."

I despised it when she got the last word in.

Chapter 3

The ballroom was filled with Vampyres dressed to kill. No pun intended. Many were leaving the compound in Kentucky tomorrow for Europe to attend a yearly summit with the Angels. I expected Raquel to leave with them as she was the Princess of the European territory. The thought of her leaving left an unsettled feeling inside me that I decided to ignore. A bare bones contingency of fifty would stay behind to protect Prince Ethan, Astrid and Samuel. I was happy to have an excuse to get out of meeting with the Angels. Angelic? Yes. Pleasant? No.

"Oh my Hell," Astrid muttered as she glanced around the ballroom. "This clusterfuck makes me want to chew glass and swallow it."

I had to agree but I stayed mum. Vampyre politics were a bore and watching the sucking up and posturing got tiresome.

"There's a band," I observed. "I suppose there will be dancing."

"Thank God. I should have invited Mother Nature. She would have twerked and scared the shit out of everyone. Would have cleared the room in a minute flat," she said with an evil grin.

Astrid's grandmother on her father's side was Mother Nature—the most delightfully insane woman in existence. Of course there would have been twerking and pole dancing, but there would have also been a forest exploding out of the marble floor and a zoo of animals in her wake. Ethan had just repaired the compound from her last visit. A new visit would not be welcome.

"I have to go stand next to Ethan and pretend I'm listening to all the Vamps kissing his ass. They're all vying for an invite to the wedding that they think is ridiculous," she said.

Vampyres mated. They didn't marry. Marriage was a vow that could be broken, while mating was not. Most Vampyres ridiculed the human tradition of marriage, but not my cousin. She played it off well, but I knew the derision hurt her.

"Astrid," I said as I took her hand in mine.

"Yes, Heathcliff?" she asked with an eye roll.

"I don't think it's stupid—at all."

She stopped and looked at the floor for a moment, then glanced up gratefully. "I don't think it's stupid either," she whispered. "I want to marry Ethan more than I've ever wanted anything."

"More than Prada?" I teased.

She barely missed a beat. "Yep, more than Prada. You gonna be okay on your own, my devastatingly handsome cousin?" she asked with a sly grin.

"Aren't I always?" I replied.

"You know," she said as she walked away and winked at me. "If you'd get your head out of your ass you wouldn't have to be on your own..."

Ignoring her, I made my way into the crowd. Astrid was insane. I was happy alone. Being mated would keep me from...all sorts of things I needed to do. God damn it, I was going to avoid my cousin for a while.

I was greeted respectfully by many and checked my watch repeatedly. How long did I have to stay? A brief appearance should be sufficient. As Prince Ethan's second in command of the North American Dominion I was expected to attend all formal functions. I grabbed a blood laced scotch from the bar and leaned on a column. I would stay until I finished my drink and then I was out.

"Heathcliff, darling," an exquisite Vampyre named Christina purred as she placed a perfectly manicured hand possessively on my chest. "I called you twice and haven't heard back. Are you avoiding me?"

She was stunning, but for some reason she left me cold this evening. We had dallied on and off for years. She was safe—wanted nothing but sex. However, sex with her was not what I craved at the moment.

"Christina, lovely to see you," I said as I removed her hand and stepped back. "I've been quite busy, but I assure you I haven't been avoiding you."

Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she covered it quickly with a seductive smile. "Well then, what say you we meet after the party?"

"We'll see," I said distractedly as I felt an unwanted presence close by. What was Raquel doing here? She never came to parties at the Cressida House. She was above the American need to socialize at the drop of a hat. Apparently she was slumming it tonight. My blue eyes turned green with desire and Christina very mistakenly assumed it was for her.

"I'll meet you at my place after the gathering," she whispered excitedly as she placed a kiss on my lips.

"Not tonight," I said tersely. "I'm busy."

Her eyebrows rose in surprise and she stiffened. "Your loss."

"I'm afraid it is," I said as politely as I could muster. I moved away from her. She was becoming a bit too clingy which I didn't want or need. I had my own problems.

Where the Hell was Raquel? I could feel her and I was certain she could feel me. We were in a public setting and I was somewhat sure I was safe from flying objects—or so I hoped. She was a fucking flame and I was a moth. My thoughts were wild and I wanted to kill my cousin for putting them there.

"Hi Heathcliff," a small voice announced from my shoulder. "Can me touch your butt?"

On my shoulders sat four Baby Demons: Beyonce, Abe, Rachel and Ross. They stood about three inches high and caused more trouble than beings ten times their size. The miniature hellions belonged to Astrid and she let them have free reign of the compound. They were menaces with boob and ass fetishes.

"No, Beyonce. You may not touch my butt," I said as I plucked them off my shoulders and put them on the bar.

"You no fun," she said as she dove into a blood laced margarita.

"You a pooper party," Rachel informed me as she walloped her buddy Ross in the head. He went flying into Abe and the melee began.

"It's a party pooper," I said as I pulled Beyonce out of the drink and separated the little nuisances. "If you can't behave you have to go back upstairs."

"But you need me help," Abe insisted as he took a covert swipe at Ross' head.

"And what exactly do I need your help with?" I asked as I quickly swigged down the rest of my scotch. Unfortunately it was incredibly difficult for Vampyres to tie one on. It would take at least ten strong scotches for me to feel even slightly inebriated. I was going to have to deal with the Baby Demons and Raquel as a sober man.

"To help you get the girl," he answered without a grammar issue and without suggesting I touch a butt.

"What girl?" I asked as I signaled the bartender for another. This was turning out to be a long evening—and it wasn't even the evening yet. The sun still shone through the skylights in the ballroom. They were muted with protective glass since many Vampyres couldn't handle sun.

"You know what girlllllllllllllll," Rachel said slyly as she hopped over my shoulder, latched onto the back of my tux and slapped my ass. "The one you luuuuurrrrrrvvvvvvve."

"I love no girl," I insisted as I retrieved her before she took a dive into my pants. "And if I did I am quite certain I could handle her on my own."

"Me no think so," Abe said as he spastically slapped at his lips.

The others joined his lip slapping antics and I watched in confusion. What the Hell were they doing?

"Me think you need loooooootssssss of help," Ross added.

"But if you no like girl here we take you to Big Sean's Booby Barn," Abe told me as he continued to slap his mouth. "Lots of girls be there."

"Um, thank you, but no." I said as I picked up my new scotch and took a healthy swig.

"Me wanna go to Booby Barn," Rachel squealed with bloodthirsty excitement. "Me hungry for bad Demons!"

"Great idea," I said quickly as I scooped them up and walked them to the foyer. I did not need or want their help. The farther away they were the better.

"You suuuure you no wanna come?" Abe asked with a huge grin on his face.

"Quite," I replied.

"You suuuuure you no want our help?" Beyonce added as she blew me wet kisses.

"I really don't think I need it."

"Me think you do, but it be your hot pink bloodbath," she added gleefully.

I was mute as I had no clue how to reply to that one. The Baby Demons were odd little creatures. However, it was time for them to go.

"Don't do anything we no do," Abe screamed as they poofed away to the strip club. I grinned and shook my head. This day needed to end, but I had still had one more thing I needed to do...

As I made my way back into the gathering I saw her and stopped in my tracks. Raquel was poured into a sexy black halter dress that made her pale skin and red hair exquisite. My gut tightened and every instinct I had was wildly inappropriate. She was surrounded by her entourage of Vampyres from her European Dominion. All men. All entirely too close to her. Especially the blond one who couldn't take his eyes off of her.

The American Vamps were paying respects--literally falling over themselves to get close to her. Raquel was gracious and beautiful. She held the crowd in the palm of her hand. I observed jealously as she smiled and exchanged pleasantries with the besotted group of Vamps. I ground my fangs and fought my desire to barge in, take her in my arms and lay claim. She shouldn't be here. She should be in Europe...Who in the Hell was running Europe while she was here? Only one way to find out.

The band had started and the music was slow and sensual. The thought of holding her in my arms without being decapitated was appealing. It would be in bad taste for her to turn me down in front of an audience and worse for her to attack me. Win win.

Her eyes narrowed dangerously as I approached and I hoped my tux jacket hid the growing bulge in my pants. The Vampyres stepped back out of respect for me and I grinned at the alluring blush on her cheeks.

"May I have this dance?" I asked.

"No, you may not," the blond goon, with a seriously annoying French accent, said as he stepped in front of Raquel.

The gasps and titters of our audience only served to deepen her blush. Her normally golden eyes had narrowed to slits and blazed green.

"Interesting," I said in a deadly quiet voice as the goon nervously dropped his gaze from mine. I could destroy him in a second flat but knew that really wouldn't go over well. "I don't believe I asked you to dance. You're not my type."

The titters were now full blown laughs.

"My Princess does not dance," he insisted as he raised his eyes back to mine and glared.

Part of me admired his vigilance. However, he was in the way of what I wanted. Not working for me.

"I find it fascinating that Raquel can't answer for herself," I said softly as I stared her down. "She was quite vocal this morn..."

"Enough," she snapped. "It's fine, Jean Paul," she assured her henchman. "I shall give him one dance."

"Are you sure, my liege?" he asked doubtfully as he glanced up at the skylights. "It's almost time to leave."

Raquel followed his gaze and gave him a curt nod. "It will be fine. One dance," she informed me as she placed her hand in mine. "Only one."

"That's all I asked for, Princess," I said smoothly as I led her to the crowded dance floor.

Her small hand in mine and the feel of her hip beneath the other was almost my undoing. However, it was her scent that made my head spin—like a spring breeze mixed with desire.

"It's quite ballsy of you to ask me to dance," she said as she stared hard at my mouth with displeasure.

I grinned and pulled her tighter against my body. "Why would you say something like that?"

"Well, I assumed from the shade you're wearing you have been quite busy with someone else," she said.

What was she talking about?

"Or you've become metrosexual. You know, hot pink really isn't your color. With your dark hair you could easily pull off red," she explained in a tight voice. "I have a difficult time with red because of my hair. I do have a few tubes I bought hoping I could make them work. I'd be happy to give them to you."

"What the Hell are you talking about?" I asked as I stopped dancing and pulled her closer, making it impossible for her to run or knee me in the balls.

"Your lipstick. It's simply the wrong shade or you're actually a man whore." Her eyes spat fire and she tried to pull away.

Not happening.

God damn it. I should have listened to the Demons. My hot pink bloodbath was the leftover lipstick from Christina's kiss. Not good form. The insane lip smacking now made sense. I quickly swiped my lips and made a mental note to listen to the ass-obsessed menaces next time. However, her obvious jealousy made my pants even tighter.

"Overzealous greetings," I muttered with a smirk.

"Right," she said with an eye roll and a discreet elbow to my gut.

I deserved that. "So I assume you'll be leaving for Europe in the morning," I said, praying I'd removed all of my lipstick and desperately sought a change of subject.

"Never assume...makes an ass out of you and me," she said as she stiffly moved to the music.

"You're not going?" I asked, surprised. She was the Monarch of Europe. She would have to be there.

"No."

"Why?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business," she snapped and purposely stomped on my foot.

God, that was hot.

"Everything you do is my business, Princess."

"Since when?" she demanded.

"Since I was balls deep inside you and you were screaming my name a couple of hours ago."

"Oh my God," she hissed. "Your ego knows no bounds. We've been having meaningless sex for hundreds of years. You have no rights to me. You should find yourself a nice uncomplicated Vampyre mate and..."

"Why haven't you mated?" I asked in a deadly quiet voice.

"Heathcliff, I'm not going there." She blushed and tried again to pull away. "The subject is not up for discussion."

"You brought it up, Beautiful. Tell me why," I ground out.

"Because I..." she stammered.

My anger rose quickly and I wanted to hurt her.

"It can't be because you haven't been asked," I whispered as I reminded her of a moment we shared in time two hundred years ago. I ground my erection into her as she gasped and went soft in my arms.

"Stop," she pleaded desperately. "We could never be."

"Because was more fun to lead me on, play with my pathetic emotions and then rip out my heart?"

"Is that what you think?" she whispered.

"It's what I know, Red. I'm good enough to fuck but not to mate. You made that abundantly clear a very long time ago." I knew my eyes had gone green with fury and desire. My grip on her body tightened and my need to take her was almost debilitating. Glutton for punishment didn't even come close to describing the new low I'd hit, but she made me weak and I hated her for it.

"You know nothing of me," she hissed.

"I know every inch of your body," I shot back.

"That's just the shell. The part that matters will never be yours."

She ripped herself from my arms and stared at me with rage and what seemed to be regret. She shook and her cheeks blazed with color. She was magnificent. Did she regret saying no to me all those years ago? I laughed at my wishful thinking. She felt nothing and the sooner I accepted that the better off I would be.

"My apologies," I said tonelessly as I gave her a formal bow and felt my chest clench in pain. "What we have had is now over. It should have been over a long time ago, but this lovely dance has truly ended it for me. I wish you the best with your life, Raquel."

"Heathcliff, I..." Her body trembled and she wrung her hands. Her expression went from unsure to resigned.

I waited for more, but no more came. Time to cut my losses and maintain a semblance of pride.

As I turned to walk away I was immediately replaced by her goons. She glanced at me, then up at the skylights and nodded quickly. The blond one I wanted to kill held her sagging body up as the European group exited the ballroom. He looked at me strangely and shook his head in disgust. The need to tear him apart was overwhelming, but I refrained. Ethan would be furious if I killed a guest at the party and I needed to let go of anything that had to do with Raquel. Forever.

Not a problem.

Not at all.

I made my way purposefully across the ballroom. The distraction I searched for stood in a group of Vamps gossiping about things I couldn’t give a shit about. I wasn't looking for brains. I was looking to forget. She would do.

"Christina, are you ready to leave?" I asked, ignoring all the giggling and curtsying female Vamps around her.

She glanced up in surprise and then slithered over seductively.

"I knew you'd come to your senses," she purred as she locked her arm through mine and winked at her friends.

If it were only that simple.

Happy New Year - Coming In 2016

I am an overachiever… and I clearly don’t sleep.

So with that out of the way, I will tell you what I have planned for this year!

In THE HOT DAMNED SERIES there will be several additions. Heathcliff’s book, FASHIONABLY HOTTER THAN HELL will be out this winter. FASHIONABLY UNDEAD AND WED (Astrid and Ethan’s wedding) and FASHIONABLY FABULOUS (The Kev and Gemma’s book) will follow.

In the SHIFT HAPPENS SERIES you can look for NO WERE TO RUN (Dima’s book) and Jr’s book (untitled so far) They will be coming to an e-reader near you!

In the MAGIC AND MAYHEM SERIES, the next book is A WITCH IN TIME (book three) and it will also be coming out.

I hope 2016 is a great year for you and that you will have a butt-load of time to read since I’ll be pooping out books at an alarming rate.

Thank you so much for making my dreams come true. Being an author is the best damn job I’ve ever had!

xoxo Robyn

The Hot Damned Series – Book 7

Coming In 2016

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The Hot Damned Series – Book 8

Coming In 2016

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Book Lists (in correct reading order)

HOT DAMNED SERIES

Fashionably Dead

Fashionably Dead Down Under

Hell on Heels

Fashionably Dead in Diapers

Fashionably Hotter Than Hell

SHIFT HAPPENS SERIES

Ready to Were

Some Were in Time

No Were To Run

MAGIC AND MAYHEM SERIES

Switching Hour

Witch Glitch

A Witch In Time

HANDCUFFS AND HAPPILY EVER AFTERS SERIES

How Hard Can it Be?

Size Matters

Cop a Feel

If after reading all the above you are still wanting more adventure and zany fun, read Pirate Dave and His Randy Adventures, the romance novel budding novelist Rena was helping wicked Evangeline write in How Hard Can It Be.

Warning: Pirate Dave Contains Romance Satire, Plot Spoofing, and Pirates with Two Pork Swords. Enough said.

About Robyn Peterman

Robyn Peterman writes because the people inside her head won’t leave her alone until she gives them life on paper.

Her addictions include laughing really hard with friends, shoes (the expensive kind), Target, Coke Zero Cherry with extra ice in a Styrofoam cup, bejeweled reading glasses, her kids, her super-hot hubby and collecting stray animals.

A former professional actress with Broadway, film and T.V. credits, she now lives in the South with her family and too many animals to count.

Writing gives her peace and makes her whole, plus having a job where you can work in your underpants works really well for her. You can leave Robyn a message via the Contact Page and she’ll get back to you as soon as her bizarre life permits! She loves to hear from her fans!

** Visit www.robynpeterman.com for more information.**