Fashionably Dead and Loving It (Hot Damned #14) - Robyn Peterman Page 0,11
lick at his large frame.
I wasn’t fazed by the fact that the Devil was ablaze. It was normal for him. However, it only happened in times of danger. That part unsettled me.
“I was naked in fifteen-inch Prada heels,” I explained quickly. “It was a hot shitshow. Nana was there—and yes, I know she’s for real dead. However, she gave me an enormous fan to cover my privates and shoved me out onto a stage in an auditorium filled with pompous bloodsuckers. I told a few jokes and got heckled. Martha and Jane were there, and so was Lizard. You were sitting on Ethan’s lap, and Mother Nature fell from the ceiling and tore off her leg. She fed thousands of Vampyres a cake she’d baked, and my ass was glued to the throne. Then the place was filled with Zombies who tried to eat me.”
“Does Prada actually make fifteen-inch heels?” he inquired, confused. “That sounds a little iffy.”
My head whipped to him and my eyes narrowed to slits. “Is that all you have to say?” I snapped. “Out of that entire shitshow of a dream, that’s what stands out to you?”
Satan chucked, still on fire. “Of course not, I was just curious. Did you get eaten?”
“Umm… no.”
“That’s a good sign,” he replied. “Dreams—or rather, your dreams—have foretold the future in the past.”
He was correct. And that sucked big butts.
“Maybe it means Nana is coming back,” I said, reaching for the only positive part of my nightmare.
“Possibly,” he agreed. “You could check in with God on that one. However, I don’t think that’s the important part of the dream.”
I rolled my eyes. “So, you have the hots for Ethan?”
“No,” Satan replied with a grin. “I find Elle far more appealing than your fanged mate, even though she’s royally pissed at me right now. However, Ethan does have a lovely array of office supplies.”
Again, I rolled my eyes. “Do you have any idea what the dream means?”
“I do not, Astrid. However, that’s not a Zombie under the cushion.”
My body relaxed and my fingers stopped shooting flames. As bad as Satan could be, he didn’t lie in battle. Plus, his body fire abated—a very good sign.
“What is it?”
“Who is it would be more accurate,” Satan shot back as he crossed the room and pulled the cushion off the chair.
“Mommmmy,” four tiny Baby Demons screeched as they pummeled each other with delight.
“Oh my Hell,” I choked out, leaning against the wall in relief—relief that they weren’t Zombies and massive relief that I hadn’t blown up the chair. I adored my little monsters. “You scared me to death.”
“Silly Mommmmy!” Abe squealed as he sucker-punched Ross. “You already dead!”
“He has a point,” Satan said, watching the smackdown with amusement. “You little bastards are vicious.”
“Tank youuuuuu,” Beyonce said with a curtsey right before Rachel decked her with a left hook that drew blood. Beyonce grunted with joy and scissor kicked Rachel, sending her to the floor with a thud.
I’d discovered my tiny monsters on my ceiling shortly after being turned. They were my three-inch-tall bundles of love. They were perfect, and they were tremendous dancers—albeit a bit on the violent side. I’d named them Honest Abe, Beyonce, Ross and Rachel, due to their uncanny resemblances to their historical counterparts. I loved them and they loved me. They also adored my son with a passion. I was surprised they hadn’t followed Samuel to Zanthia. They rarely left his side.
Flicking my fingers, I shot a breeze of glitter magic at them. They ate it up. Literally. The Baby Demons swallowed it then ran around the suite screaming and laughing like little drunks. At least they weren’t beating the crap out of each other anymore.
“Excuse me,” I shouted over the hysterics. “Is there a reason you were hiding in my chair?”
I got no answer other than unintelligible gibberish.
“I’d hazard a guess you gave them too much glitter magic,” Satan said, wincing as the high-pitched screams began to shatter the windowpanes.
“Crapballs,” I muttered as I plucked them up and put them in my closet. While we could still hear them, it was far better than having to worry about being impaled by shards of glass. And with all the energy they were expending they’d pass out shortly. “Okay, where were we?”
Satan scrubbed his hand over his beautiful, unshaven face and shrugged. “Actually, I have no fucking clue.”
Grinning, I put the cushion back and flopped down on the chair. “I remember. I think you’re scared.”