Fashionably Dead and Loving It (Hot Damned #14) - Robyn Peterman Page 0,5

of seduction.

“No, seriously,” I said, sitting up and pulling on my hair in distress. “I need to ask you a question.”

Ethan, in all his naked and very aroused glory, switched from seducer to my best friend in a hot second. “Ask.”

I felt a little ridiculous, but there was a warning in my dream that had stuck with me—kind of like how my ass had stuck to the throne. “Umm…” I started, twisting my fingers in my hair. “Do I happen to have a crown?”

Ethan squinted at me, then laughed. “A crown?”

“Yes,” I said with an eye roll. “I mean, I’m a Princess. Right?”

“Indeed, you are,” he said, amused. “And yes, there are several crowns at your disposal. However, it’s news to me that you’re embracing your title.”

“It’s news to me too,” I told him with a shake of my head. “I just…”

“Your every wish is my command.” Ethan snapped his fingers. Three exquisite jeweled tiaras appeared on the bed. The sheer number of diamonds was staggering.

“Holy shit,” I whispered, afraid to touch them. “Are those real?”

Ethan grinned. “Quite.”

“And I can wear them?” I gingerly picked up the closest crown and placed it on my head. I would have loved to have seen how it looked on me, but I didn’t have a reflection—one of the downsides of being dead.

Ethan’s eyes blazed with desire. “You can wear all of them,” he assured me, straddling me on the bed. “I do believe I’d like to bang my Princess wearing her crown.”

I giggled. “The Princess requires that her Prince ask more politely.”

“She does?” Ethan shot back, cupping my breast in his hand.

“She most certainly does.” I arched my back to give him better access.

“How about this?” he whispered, leaning in and nipping my earlobe. “The Prince requests permission to fuck his Princess until she forgets her name and can’t walk for a week. Ten orgasms guaranteed.”

My brain left my body for a moment and my grin grew so wide it hurt my face. “Works for me.”

The Vampyre made good on his word. Although, he’d been off on the number of orgasms. It had been fifteen.

I was definitely going to wear my damned crown to bed from here on out.

Chapter Two

“I’d like to thank everyone for joining me today at this momentous fucking event. I will share with you that I had a shitty dream last night where I was naked in front of thousands of bloodsuckers and almost got eaten by Zombies. Suffice it to say, it wasn’t pleasant. However, the sex afterwards rocked,” I announced, eyeing the organized pile of purses and the rows of expensive shoes. Adjusting the obnoxiously jeweled crown on my head, I continued. After the banging last night, I decided to wear the damn thing as my good luck charm. “Today is my day just for me. And yes, I am fully aware what I’m about to do might seem strange and somewhat pathetic, but there is no glory without mixing regret and stupidity. That’s my motto, and I’m going with it.”

Nodding to all of the inanimate objects in my ridiculously large walk-in closet, I continued with the preparation of the shitshow. Carefully arranging the gorgeous cut-glass crystal bowl filled with tortilla chips next to the rare sterling silver, emerald-encrusted bowl of extra-hot salsa, I sighed dramatically. I’d placed the delectable feast on a thousand-year-old antique side table. It was intricately carved and fitting for the beauty atop it. The table wouldn’t be missed. I’d pilfered it from the library on the main floor of the Cressida House and brought it up to our suite. There was so much spindly, priceless furniture in the cavernous, book-filled room, I’d be shocked if someone noticed it was missing.

While I knew what was most likely about to happen, I was willing to try… again. Last year, I’d spent a full week with horrible cramps and an ashy taste in my mouth for a month after barely touching the tip of my tongue to a spoon of black raspberry chip ice cream. I was still taking crap from my family and Baby Demons about that one.

However, I’d rationalized my move today by convincing myself that the milk in the ice cream had been the culprit. Chips and extra-hot salsa were lactose-free. As a blood drinker, that made perfect sense. Not really, but it was my justification. Plus, salsa was red… like blood.

If I was being honest, which I wasn’t… I’d have to admit that watching the pompous Vamps eat cake in my