Fashionably Hotter Than Hell: Book Six, The Hot Damned Series (20 page)

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Authors: Robyn Peterman

Tags: #Paranormal Romance, #Romantic Comedy

BOOK: Fashionably Hotter Than Hell: Book Six, The Hot Damned Series
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“Wow. Good one,” Astrid said, congratulating her again.

 

“Thanks,” my mate replied with a blush. “Did it make sense?”

 

“No, but what the Hell does making sense even mean?” Astrid said. “Think about it—we’re dead, we can fly, my uncle is Beelzebub, and I’m un-killable. Sense left this train station a long fucking time ago.”

 

“We make sense out of the chaos,” I corrected Astrid as I took Raquel’s hand in mine. “I’m as alive as when I still had breath. We’re survivors and we have reasons to go on. Today is a mere blip in the eternity that we’ve been given. I plan to take it by the balls and twist till it screams for mercy.”

 

“Again,” Satan added, grinning at all of us. “I’m am starting to seriously enjoy this day.”

 

I chuckled and shrugged.

 

“I like your positive attitude too,” Astrid said with a thoughtful nod. “I’m ready to grab some hairy balls and twist till they explode. I shall then yank them till they’re detached and shove them down the bad guy’s throat.”

 

All of the men—
including me
—groaned and covered our balls with our hands in a visceral reaction to her plan. Astrid and Raquel high fived and tried without success to bite back their laughter.

 

“Not exactly what I meant, Astrid,” I muttered with a wince.

 

“I know,” my cousin assured me with an evil little smirk. “I just like to see you all bent over in phantom pain.”

 

“That’s just mean, Astrid,” Satan gasped, but gave her an approving thumbs up.

 

“If we’re done here, we have to go,” Raquel advised. “Time is beginning to be of the essence. We’ll see you shortly.”

 

“This is serious. Do not doubt it for an instant,” Ethan advised as touched his sister’s cheek. “The Old Guard is powerful and may have many allies that we’re unaware of. Stay as neutral as you can and wait for backup. Hopefully, we’ll be there soon.”

 

“You don’t think I can handle a bunch of old-as-dirt dead people?” Raquel asked her brother with narrowed eyes as her fangs descended.

 

It was all kinds of sexy. The uncontrollable monster on my pants agreed.

 

“Oh I
know
you can, especially with the killing machine you mated with at your side. I just don’t want to miss out on any of the fun,” Ethan replied with a wink.

 

“Death, destruction, and dinner in Paris. I couldn’t have asked for a nicer damned day,” Satan declared as he took his place on the far side of the room with Gareth, Astrid and Ethan. “Okay. Let’s get this party started.”

 

“Yes, let’s,” I agreed with a salute to my friends.

 

And with that we all transported away in spectacular blasts of glittering magic.

 

Chapter 17

 

Everything was stark white—the walls, the furniture, the drapes and the marble flooring. Not a spec of color as far as the eye could see. It was cold and foreboding. If Heaven was decorated like this, I might actually consider Hell.

 

“Damn, the Angels have unimaginative taste,” Raquel whispered as we cautiously made our way across a grand but strangely empty foyer. “Where is everyone?”

 

“Security is definitely lacking,” I muttered as I glanced around.

 

We stood out like evil beacons in our formalwear—all black against the backdrop of blinding white. Astrid had the forethought to bring me a tux and Raquel had changed into a black sheath that hugged her curves sinfully. The thought of peeling it off of her with my teeth consumed my brain.

 

With a shake of my head to clear the lascivious intentions from it, I closed my eyes and reached out to the minds of our people who were in attendance at the Summit. The thoughts of our warriors were tense and guarded. With a text on my secure line, I communicated with Henry, one of my top generals.

 

Where are you
?
I asked him.

 

Ballroom. Are you here
?
Henry asked in return.

 

Yes. Status
?

 

Strange… boring. Not a word uttered against the Royal Family. Just business about territory rights and upholding the treaties.
Henry informed me.

 

Nothing seems amiss
?
I queried.

 

No, nothing.

 

We’ll be in shortly.

 

Odd. If the Old Guard wanted to embarrass or implicate the Royal Family, the Summit was the perfect place to do it. What else could be going on?

 

“They’re at a meeting in the ballroom. Everyone is there,” I told her.

 

“Shall we just waltz in and surprise them?” she asked with a bloodthirsty little grin.

 

Damn it. It was either the smile or maybe the way her eyes lit up at the thought of spilling some blood that undid me. I adjusted the bulge in my pants and carefully considered my answer. If we stole away in a parlor, we could have a quickie. However, relieving the ache in my balls wasn’t necessarily a top priority. No matter what we were facing, my priorities always shifted to Raquel when we were alone.

 

“I do believe waltzing in is a fine plan, my love. It would be difficult for anyone to abduct you in a crowd of Angels.”

 

“The only person I want to be abducted by is you.” Raquel batted her long lashes and my pants got tighter. “Could you arrange that?”

 

“God, Raquel.” I groaned. It took everything I had not to say the Hell with the Summit and whisk her away to a secluded place—anywhere. I’d even go back to the damn Catacombs if it meant we could be alone. “You’re killing me here.”

 

“Darling, you’re already dead.” She laughed with delight and kissed me. “Do you want me to help you out with your problem?” she asked, referring to the painfully obvious erection in my pants.

 

“Now?” I asked.

 

“Yes. Now,” she whispered with glee.

 

“Can we do it fast?” I asked liking the direction we were going.

 

“So fast it will make your head spin,” she purred. “Both of them.”

 

I placed my hand on the wall to keep the dizziness at bay. Raquel could probably make me come with her voice alone. The thought of taking her in the Palace of the Angels made my balls so tight I had to lean forward. I was the luckiest bastard in the world.

 

“Do it,” I ground out and moved to unzip my pants.

 

“Stay still,” she instructed. “I’ll do all the work.”

 

And the day got even better…

 

“Close your eyes,” she whispered in my ear. “Concentrate on my voice. Hear and visualize everything I’m saying and your
big
problem will go away. I promise.”

 

“Are you that good?” I teasingly challenged.

 

“I’m that good plus ten,” she guaranteed.

 

Her breath feathered warm and sweet on my cheek. The scent of her was my addiction. My need for my mate was almost debilitating. At this point if we didn’t take care of my
problem
, I’d be useless in a battle or whatever was about to go down.

 

“I’m ready,” I said gruffly.

 

“You’re alone in a beautiful room on a big bed—the lights are low and there’s a gentle breeze blowing through the open window. Your sexy body is completely bare and you’re so hard it hurts,” she said softly.

 

“That’s fairly accurate,” I choked out.

 

“Shhhhhh,” she admonished. “Just listen… you hear a noise outside your room. A laugh and a moan of desire,” she continued, pulling me into her spell.

 

Her tone was hypnotizing and I pictured her entering the room gloriously naked and falling atop me. The thought of her bare breasts made my fangs drop.

 

“There’s a soft knock at the door. Someone wants to join you. Someone needs you more than life itself. Someone wants to pleasure you. Someone wants to fuck you so badly you can feel the need through the closed door. Do you want this?” she asked in a barely audible whisper.

 

“Yes,” I hissed. “I want it.”

 

Her light giggle caused me to clamp my hands to my sides. The desire to grab her was enormous along with my dick at this point. However, the game was sexy so I fought to still myself.

 

“You tell the person to come in… ”

 

She paused and I thought I would fucking burst. Why the Hell did she pause?

 

“And?” I urged her on waiting impatiently for her description of me burying myself to the hilt inside her willing body.

 

“And in run Martha and Jane naked as jaybirds except for an image of your face waxed out of their private areas. They grunt with glee and their sagging bosoms smack them in their heads as they sprint for your naked body. They jump you and hump you like Samuel’s baboon, Blobbityflonk, humped the couch last week when we were tutoring him. They lick you from head to… ”

 

“Stop! Sweet Jesus in Hell,” I grunted as my eyes flew open and my erection deflated instantly. “I’m going to be ill.”

 

“Do you still have your problem?” she inquired with a shit-eating grin and a very un-ladylike cackle.

 

“No. No I don’t, but I now have an image that’s goddamned un-erasable living in my frontal lobe,” I griped.

 

“You’re welcome.” She shrugged unapologetically and smirked.

 

“For scarring me for eternity?” I shot back.

 

“Yep, and for getting you to think with the right head,” she added with a wink. “Better to use the one on your shoulders when dealing with the Old Guard and the Angels.”

 

“You could have been a bit more gentle,” I complained. “I feel defiled.”

 

“I thought you liked it a little rough.”

 

“Stop,” I insisted and raised both hands in surrender. “Just leave me with alone with my flaccid dick. I don’t think I can take another visualization if you make me hard again.”

 

“No problem. Happy to have helped.”

 

“Remind me never to ask for help like that again,” I told her with a grimace.

 

“Will do. You ready to enter the shit show?”

 

I glanced down at my now un-tented pants and chuckled. She really was that good plus ten.

 

“Yes. I’m ready.”

 

***

 

It was just as Henry had reported—staid and monotonous. The Angels, about a hundred, sat on the left side of the room. They were clearly one unit, all dressed in flowing white robes that blended into the décor splendidly. Pam was the only celestial creature who stood out in her purple robe and floral headpiece. I smiled at her audacity. She could have sat on either side as she was an Angel mated to the King of the Vampyres, but she loved stirring it up.

 

The hundred Vampyres were a different story. They were dressed to impress in Prada, Gucci, and everything in between. Clustered on the far right sat the Old Guard. Just as expected, Vlad was clearly in charge of the faction. Raquel’s father, the King, and a contingency of younger Vamps from all over the world were separated from Vlad and his cronies by a few feet.

 

To the untrained eye it was minimal, but to me it was a clear line drawn in the sand. Raquel’s almost inaudible hiss led me to believe we were in agreement on that point. The loyalists for our King outnumbered the Old Guard, but the sheer age of the elders meant the power division was equal.

 

We slipped in quietly. It gave us a brief moment to assess the situation. Initially our entrance went unnoticed as the head Angel droned on about punishments for breaking treaties. It was old news—beheadings, banishments to Hell and other unsavory forms of justice. For the times we lived in, our tenets were still quite medieval. However, we were both violent races and brutal consequences were what most of us understood.

 

“Greetings everyone,” Raquel called out when the Angel took a brief pause to check his notes. She moved to the center of the room with the confidence of a deadly Vampyre Princess—exactly what she was. “I’m delighted you chose to hold the Summit in my European Dominion. I sincerely apologize for my tardiness. I’ve had a few issues to deal with.”

 

“Apologies accepted,” the Angel with the notes said as he took Raquel in with shocked surprise. “And thank you for agreeing to host. We were informed you would not be in attendance.”

 

“Whomever relayed that message to you was gravely mistaken,” Raquel replied in a steely tone juxtaposed with the gracious smile.

 

I walked several steps behind my mate assuming the position of her guard. I noticed the King’s raised brow, but he very wisely stayed silent. We’d chat later.

 

“It’s almost
sundown
Princess,” Vlad stated calmly as he stood and gave her a perfunctory bow. His dark eyes perused her from head to toe with undisguised lust. “I would assume you would like to resume the meeting in the morning.”

 

The air in the room changed from bland to electrically charged with his words. The simple fact that he knew of her curse meant one of two things—we had a traitor in our midst who had given him the information or he’d placed the curse.

 

Vlad’s demeanor was benign, but his eyes told a different story. I was reminded immediately and viscerally that this was no game. The rules were wildly unclear at the moment, but the match had begun.

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