her muffin. I didn’t reach for her muffin. I barely even looked at her muffin.”
“Can we call it something other than muffin?” Astrid inquired. “While I understand this is a fairly serious conversation, I can’t keep a straight face when you keep referring to your mate’s muffin. You feel me?”
Closing my eyes and squeezing my hands into fists so I didn’t incinerate most of Hell due to the hissy fit that was brewing inside me, I nodded. However, a muffin was a muffin. I wasn’t a walking fucking thesaurus. I knew no other term for the unfortunate breakfast food.
“And what would you suggest I call it?” I asked tersely as I stood up. “Sweet roll?”
“Umm… no. Sweet roll still sounds grossly sexual.”
“For the love of everything dastardly, pick something. I have no time for this. I could lose a body part at any moment,” I insisted.
“Puffy fruit pastry?” Astrid suggested with a wrinkled nose, crawling out on all fours from under the desk and walking back to the couch. Her lopsided grin was filled with massive disrespect.
“No. Puffy fruit pastry is unacceptable.” While I normally found Astrid’s lack of respect charming, right now… not so much. She’d just made me aware that most breakfast items could easily sound like a woman’s nether region. For a moment, I couldn’t even remember why I’d summoned her.
“How about blueberry breakfast bread? That term doesn’t sound like a va-jayjay nickname,” she offered, still smiling.
“Fine,” I snapped. “I was almost beheaded for glancing at Elle’s blueberry breakfast bread. Better?”
“Nope. Still sounds nasty,” Astrid said with a laugh. “However, I got it. No need to say muffin again, Uncle Fucker.”
“Excellent,” I said, glancing around to make sure Elle hadn’t popped back into the room and was within easy decapitation distance. While I could grow my head back, it would be incredibly itchy, and I had a full agenda for the day. “Do you have any idea why Elle might have tried to maim me over a…”
“Muffin?” Astrid supplied with a naughty grin. “Not a clue. Now, if she was a Vampyre and couldn’t eat, I could see how having muffins around might be an issue. I mean, I would freakin’ lose it if Ethan could ingest food and ate in front of me. I’d go straight for his nuts. Eating is serious business to someone who has to drink blood—a concept I still find slightly disgusting. I dream about pizza and black raspberry chip ice cream all the time. But… I suppose it could be possible that Aunt Flow is visiting and that might be causing the muffin warmongering. Being dead, I don’t have to deal with that shit anymore. Dead does have its advantages. So, in conclusion, if Elle is dealing with the curse, I really can’t help you out, dude.”
“Who in the Hell is Aunt Flo and what curse?” I demanded, completely confused by Astrid’s diatribe. However, if there was some distant relation named Flo that I could blame and incinerate for Elle’s behavior, it would greatly improve my mood. A little violence could go a long way towards making a day fantastic. Although, a curse was something altogether different.
“Decapitation is probably only on the table for a week to ten days. You need to relax your crack,” Astrid said.
“I’m sorry. What?” I hissed as my eyes narrowed to slits.
It was a look that had terrified millions. I’d perfected it and it looked damned good on me. Astrid wasn’t impressed.
“You have eight daughters. Correct?” she asked.
“Don’t remind me,” I muttered. Only one of my eight daughters didn’t drive me to drink. Dixie was not the best as far as Demons went since she had a kind and compassionate side, but she was my favorite by far. Dixie was a true and loyal delight even though her need for fairness was bothersome. The Seven Deadly Sins were another story—a horror story to be precise.
Those girls were a hot deadly mess and needed to get the Hell out of Hell. Of course, finding mates for them was nearly impossible due to the unsavory fact that most of their paramours didn’t survive the first date. Rumors spread quickly in Hell and getting anyone to even look twice at one of my spawn was an unnerving situation for any male with a shred of sense. I had plans to unload them soon. They’d be none too pleased, but taking their credit cards, cell phones and cutting off their allowances would go a long way toward getting them mated