Fashionably Dead and Loving It (Hot Damned #14) - Robyn Peterman Page 0,2

I shouted over the noise. “Uncle Fucker is taking a nap. It would be rude to wake him.”

To my shock and relief, the massive crowd quieted.

Now what?

“Umm… I’m honored to be here,” I started, only to realize that I hadn’t written a speech for the occasion. I’d simply pull one out of my ass. Singing was out of the question. “I… umm… well…”

“Tell a joke,” someone shouted from the back.

I was seconds away from poofing the hell out of the place when I realized my bare ass was stuck to the throne. I’d either sat in superglue or someone was screwing with me. I don’t sing and I don’t tell jokes. I had no speech prepared. I wasn’t even sure why I was here. The way Ethan was cooing and fussing over Satan, I’d say I had some marital issues. On top of that, my Nana had allowed me to walk out onto the stage buck-ass naked.

The boos and hisses started and I could see no way out. Mother Nature had fallen from the chandelier with a sickening thud and ripped her left leg right off of her body. She was now hopping around passing out cake to the crowd—naked with one leg. Thankfully, only very old Vampyres could ingest anything other than blood. However, the room was apparently full of ancient bloodsuckers. They were eating the cake like there was no tomorrow. The sheer amount of food poisoning that was about to occur made me want to laugh then exit quickly to avoid the vomit-fest.

However, my ass was still one with the throne. I could blow up buildings, but I couldn’t peel my bare butt from the fuzzy red velvet.

Fuck.

Jokes it would be. It was better than having to live down singing—live being a relative word.

“So, as I was saying,” I continued, shouting above the murmured praise for the cake that was going to make them ill very shortly. “It is an honor to be here. I’d like to start with a few jokes. What do you get when you cross a Vampyre with a snowman?”

No one said a word. But no one heckled me either. I considered it a win.

“Frostbite!” I announced, waving to the crowd with a princess-y wave I’d remembered Princess Diana giving on TV.

“You SUCK,” some undead asshat shouted.

So much for no heckling.

“Fine,” I snapped, flipping the audience the middle finger salute. Not very royal of me, but it felt terrific. “You try having your naked ass glued to a fucking throne and see how funny you can be.”

“Try again, sweetheart,” Nana insisted from the wings. “Maybe show some cleavage.”

“Are you serious?” I hissed at Nana. She’d been joined by a Demon named Lizard. He was a buddy of mine from Hell. Sadly, he didn’t seem to want to help me out either. Lizard just stood there and smacked on his ever-present chewing gum.

“I am very serious,” Nana replied. “You’re a huge flop. A little booby might help.”

“Oh my Uncle God,” I huffed with an enormous eye roll. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I am,” Nana said. “Just trying to be helpful. I don’t want you to show up in the tabloids for bombing at your very first royal event. Your bosom would be a lovely distraction.”

She had to be wasted. I’d never heard my Nana talk that way my entire life. Too many times to count, she’d nailed me for my skirt length in high school like a drill sergeant. She’d made me drop my hands to my sides to make sure my mini-skirts were below my fingertips. Now she wanted me to flash my knockers to a roomful of Vampyres?

“Nope,” I muttered. “These jackholes don’t deserve to see my girls.”

“It was just a suggestion,” Nana huffed then disappeared in a cloud of sparkling white smoke.

Crap. Nana was mad. My mate appeared to be hitting on my uncle. Mother Nature was poisoning the masses. And I really didn’t want to end up being trashed in the tabloids…

“Alright, dead fuckers,” I yelled. “If someone knows the answer to the next joke, I’ll flash my left girl.”

“Is it the bigger one?” a posh-looking female Vampyre inquired while stuffing cake into her mouth.

“Umm… yes, it is,” I replied, hoping that her piece was loaded with rancid ingredients. “What do Vampyres sail the Seven Seas in?”

“Blood vessels,” a pompous male Vamp called out.

“Mother humper.” I closed my eyes. I should have asked a harder one.

The chants of boob, boob, boob, boob would be burned into my frontal