Fashionably Dead and Loving It (Hot Damned #14) - Robyn Peterman Page 0,15
Demon eyes. “Devil give you man boobies.”
“SURPRISE!” Beyonce shouted, cackling so hard she fell right off the dresser. “Me no eat man boobies. Niiiiiice man boobies. NO EAT.”
Clearly, the glitter magic had caused brain damage.
“Great,” I said, quickly checking my girls once again in terror. They were fine. “How about this? Why don’t you pop over to Zanthia and check on Samuel for me?”
“Meeeee love Samuel,” Rachel said, swooning and giggling.
“Meeeee love Samuel too,” Ross said, imitating Rachel.
“Meeee love Samuel the MOST,” Abe insisted while sucker punching Rachel and Ross.
“Nope,” Beyonce announced, hopping back up on the dresser and karate-chopping her partners in crime and destruction. “Meeee love my big boy more than ANYBODY.”
“Awesome,” I said, separating them before they knocked each other unconscious. “I think you should go tell Samuel how much you love him. And tell him I love him too. Cool?”
“Yes,” they all screamed in unison and then disappeared in a tiny cloud of shimmering red mist.
Samuel might have wanted a break from his violent little shadows, but with royal company coming to the Cressida House, it might be better if the tiny menaces took a short vacation. Explaining to Vampyres why I had Baby Demons was always a little touchy. Normally, Vamps and Demons weren’t the best of buddies. However, since I was half Vampyre and half Demon, I was making some changes in our society. Some would say unwelcome changes, but that didn’t faze me. Most of what I did was unpopular with the undead. Stuffy, pompous bloodsuckers needed to get with the inclusion program. Ethan had said Wilhem was an asshole, which probably meant he was old school. Hopefully, they wouldn’t be staying long.
“Silence. Blessed silence,” I said, walking over to my closet to pick an outfit for the evening. Once more, I glanced down at my chest. If for any reason Uncle Fucker had gifted me a set of man boobs, I was going to ruin his evil life. “Nope, I’m still rocking my own girls. Satan is safe for now.”
Opening the closet door and keeping my eyes open for a random set of man boobs floating around, I pawed through my cocktail dresses. Normally, I would have chosen black, but maybe fire-engine red would be a better color for the evening ahead.
“I’d go with black,” a deep male voice suggested. “Red enhances your Demon side. Wouldn’t want to upset the bloodsuckers… or make them hungry.”
“What the hell?” I shouted as I whipped around and shot a fireball at the uninvited voice.
Inhaling the fire that almost set his pants ablaze, the man chuckled and gave me the finger. “Was that really necessary?” he inquired.
“Remains to be seen,” I said with my hands poised to blast him again. The fact that he inhaled my magic was alarming. I’d never seen that trick before.
And now I knew what the Baby Demons were talking about. A stupidly handsome, shirtless, rude Demon was lounging in my closet. The idiot was not only shirtless, he was barefoot and had some nice pecs. I wouldn’t have called them man boobs, though. When I thought of man boobs, I envisioned squishy, floppy sacks of flesh hanging off of an out-of-shape body.
“Name?” I hissed as my fingers continued to spark.
The intruder grinned. He had some large cojones for being a trespasser. “Leviathan,” he replied. “I go by Levi.”
I rolled my eyes. I knew Demons could be dangerous. I’d spent plenty of time in Hell. However, this semi-dressed douche didn’t seem like he was here to kill me. Plus, Beyonce had made it abundantly clear that she hadn’t needed to eat him—meaning he wasn’t a bad Demon. Of course, bad was a relative word when dealing with the denizens of Hell… but I felt fairly sure that he wasn’t here to do me harm.
Annoy me? Probably.
Try to off me? Doubtful.
“Is there a reason you’re in my closet?” I questioned, not letting my guard down in case I was wrong about his character.
“Not that I know of,” he said with a shrug. “Satan said I was going somewhere and here I landed.”
I squinted at him. “Uncle Fucker sent you?”
Levi rolled his eyes. I had to admit it was impressive. “Apparently, I’m your gift.”
“Nope. Not happening. I have entirely too much to do today to deal with a clothing-impaired Demon who goes by the same name as his jeans,” I said, trying to one-up his eye roll and failing. “You are going right back to Hell, little mister.”