Fashionably Dead and Loving It (Hot Damned #14) - Robyn Peterman Page 0,3

lobe forever.

This was one of the worst days of my undead life, and I’d had my share of doozies. However, I was an undead gal of my word. Preparing myself to lower that fan, I glanced once more at the audience.

What the actual fuck?

Mother Nature was gone. Ethan was gone. Satan was gone. Martha, Jane and Lizard were gone. The posh and pompous Vampyres had disappeared. In their place were half-dead, bloody beings with green-tinted skin. Their limbs were mangled, and their flesh was rotting. Slimy foam poured from their mouths. Their eyes rolled in their partial skulls. Some of them appeared to be missing appendages, and all of them moaned and gnashed their teeth.

“Time to get the hell out of here,” I grunted as I tried desperately to rip my bare bottom from the throne. It didn’t matter if I removed all the skin off my royal derriere. I was a freaking Vampyre. I would heal.

A litany of swear words left my lips as the Zombies, for lack of a better word, crawled up onto the stage. This would be a seriously crappy way to die. I mean, I was already dead. And as the Chosen One, I was impossible to kill from what I’d been told. However, getting eaten didn’t really bode well for making it to tomorrow.

The fastest creature had no lips—as if they’d been bitten off by a deadly kiss. His arm was mangled and chewed away so that the bones showed. And he looked hungry.

They all came at me so fast, there was little I could do. My fucking ass was stuck. With nothing but a fan between me and the horde, I was going to die on the throne naked and in fifteen-inch stilettos.

A screeching woman with her eyes gouged from her head threw herself at me and began to gnaw on my shoes. Her intestines dragged on the ground beside her, and I gagged. The stench was awful. You’d think since I didn’t have to breathe, I couldn’t smell either. Sadly, it didn’t work that way.

“Umm… I know the jokes were bad,” I said, trying to make the Zombies see a little reason. I wasn’t sure if it was possible to reason with Zombies, but I was going to give it a shot. “But getting eaten for telling shitty jokes is a little excessive. You feel me?”

Wait a fucking minute. What was I doing? If I could take out the entire United States with a flick of my pinky finger, I could definitely destroy the Zombies with my ass glued to a throne. I had a brief moment of wondering if wearing the crown I hadn’t known I owned would have averted this crisis, but there was precious little time to think.

With a wave of my hand, black glitter burst from my fingertips. The screaming grew so intense, I dropped the fan and slapped my hands over my ears. Fiery balls exploded and the Zombies popped like ticks. The blazing orange flame punched its way out of the building and the throne I sat atop hurtled into the desert. My shoulder dislocated as I hit the ground like a ton of bricks in a crash landing that would have killed a mortal. The sound was horrifying, but a rather small inconvenience compared to getting eaten by Zombies. So, I simply shoved the shoulder back into the socket with a wince. My mouth was full of sand and, unfortunately, my ass was still attached to the fucking chair.

However, it wasn’t until all the characters from Sesame Street started Irish dancing while smoking cigars that I lost my shit.

“Mother humper,” I screamed as I jackknifed forward, fell out of the bed and landed on the floor.

“What?” Ethan demanded, vaulting off the bed as he went full-on Vampyre—fangs dropped and golden eyes blazing. “What is it?”

“Wait.” I glanced around in a panic then narrowed my eyes at the man I loved to an unhealthy distraction. “Are you seeing Uncle Fucker on the side?”

“Am I what?” Ethan asked, still scanning our bedroom suite for danger.

Crawling back into the bed and wrapping the thick down comforter around me, I cataloged everything in the room to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. Pinching my leg, I felt the pain. It was glorious.

“Do you know if Martha and Jane own any Prada?”

“Astrid,” Ethan growled, pacing the room like a predator ready to kill. “Tell me what’s happening. Was someone in here?”

“Umm… no,” I said, closing my eyes and wondering where in