Free Fashionably Dead by Robyn Peterman Page B

of me, and still possibly wanted to kill me. I backed away from him and he stopped. His gaze never left mine, and a new kind of heat started searing its way through my body. I knew he could sense what I was feeling because I knew exactly what he was feeling.
    God, this Vampyre crap was complicated. Just when I thought I had a handle on my power some new freaky wrinkle got thrown in.
    Suddenly I was barraged with images from his head—very naked, very explicit images of what he wanted to do to me. Oh. My. God. He was bad. Really good, but really bad. I’d never done half of that stuff he wanted to do. If his visions were accurate, he was quite something naked. Had I still been capable of blushing, I would have been a deep crimson. He grinned at me and ran his tongue across his lips. The tongue I wanted on my lips, in my mouth, not to mention other places like on my . . . wait . . . what is wrong with me and when did my inner slut take over? I swear to God, I wasn’t usually this much of a ho-bag, but all I wanted to do was jump the crazy killer Vampyre and have my way with him. How in the hell was this man making me feel this way without touching me? Why did I feel such a connection to him?
    A soft breeze blew up around my body, whipping my hair and lifting my skirt. Ethan’s gaze slipped from my face to my legs. Thank Jesus I had good panties on. Wait . . . Why the hell did I care what kind of panties I had on? Five minutes ago the son of a bitch tried to kill me. Lord have mercy, I’d almost gone commando. That would have been bad.
    I lifted my hand and flicked my fingers again and a glittery breeze engulfed me. Ethan began to come towards me again with a very determined look in his eyes. This both excited and scared the bejesus out of me. His intention was clearly carnal as evidenced by the lust in his eyes and the enormous bulge in his jeans. I caught myself moving towards him. While a huge part of me wanted to tackle the gorgeous killer and make him see God, the saner part of me somehow prevailed.
    I flicked my fingers three more times, flinging glitter wildly around me. I knew with every fiber of my being that I needed to leave this place now or I would not be responsible for what I did. Having sex with a strange killer Vampyre in a graveyard while his sisters watched was just not my usual M.O. no matter how mouthwatering the Vampyre might be. Ethan stopped and tried to reach for me. I stepped back and heard him ask, “What is your name?”
    I looked into his beautiful eyes and said nothing. He took a step closer. My body began to tingle with anticipation . . . and then I vanished.

Chapter 8
     
    I woke up in a pile of bodies on my bed. Mine, Gemma’s, Pam’s and The Kev’s. What the fu . . . ?
    “Um . . . guys? As much as I love all of you this just seems wrong. Like against the law wrong.”
    “Oh my God,” Gemma jerked awake, grabbed my face and started crying. “Astrid, you’re alive!”
    “Of course I’m alive . . . at least as alive as a dead person can be,” I said, pushing The Kev off of me. “Why wouldn’t I be alive?”
    Pam rolled herself off of my bed. How in the hell did we all fit on my bed? “Well, Assmunch, when you showed up last night you were convulsing in a funnel of Fairy Glitter. You had just transported yourself, which only Angels or Fairies should be able to do, and your eyeballs were rolling back into your head like a rabid dog. Call me nutty, but we were a little concerned.”
    “Krumecaca!” The Kev woke up and shouted with great joy. He tackled me in a hug, possibly breaking a rib. “My goodness of the sakes,” he yelled, “we were so worried with the crazy sparkles and the crazy hairdo and your eyeballs rolling around in your head like a wild animal with the rabies and . . . ”
    “Thank you,” I cut him off, “enough with the scary Astrid imagery. I get it.”
    Pam walked over to my vanity and sat, or rather copped a squat on my little stool. The Kev was pacing.