Read Online Fashionably Dead by Robyn Peterman - Free Book Online Page B

several of your limbs were missing,” he said.
    Now that was random. Maybe my bionic Vampyre hearing had a glitch.
    “That would be thanks to your no-good, son of a bitch, Jane-Austen-Wuthering Heights-loving boyfriend,” Red hissed at my gay?? lover. Damn it to hell, there was no justice.
    My gay prince laughed at Miss Prada. “Ah my lovely sister, I’ll admit to many things over my many centuries, but experimentation is your hobby, not mine. I can guarantee you he is not my boyfriend.”
    Thank you, Jesus .
    “You’re both an embarrassment.” Brownie finally spoke, sounding as bored as I would at a knitting seminar.
    “She speaks,” he said.
    “Screw you,” she countered.
    “Been there, done that, Honey Bunch,” my man parried back.
    Brownie laughed derisively. “You wish,” she quipped, still managing to sound bored.
    God, who does she remind me of?
    “Speaking figuratively, not literally, my dear sister.”
    What the hell? All of these people—and I used that term loosely—were related? If they were, they either have different mothers or different fathers . . . or maybe they’re step-siblings. Because clearly I’m just that stupid, I stood up. Bad, bad, bad idea. The beautiful redhead stared at me, almost confused.
    “There’s someone here,” she said, stating the obvious.
    All of a sudden there were three sets of glittering eyes on me. I finally knew what thick silence felt like—it felt wrong on every level. I struggled to find my voice. Unfortunately, I found it. “This is a lovely cemetery, don’t you think?”
    “She can see us?” Brownie hissed. She didn’t sound so bored now.
    “Impossible,” my future boy toy muttered, “we’re cloaked.”
    Before I could blink he was in front of me, so close I could barely function. He smelled really good. His eyes blazed gold and slowly turned to a brilliant emerald green. He stared steadily at me. A shudder ran through my body.
    My first compulsion was to touch him. I lifted my hand and lightly ran my fingertips along his jaw line. He jerked back as if burnt and began to laugh. “My God, it didn’t work.”
    I knew something was really not right here. This was not normal conversation. These were not normal people. I was fairly sure these were my people and I didn’t want anything to do with them.
    These Vampyres were not like the vapid idiots who visited me the other day, nor were they interesting and nice like the Vampyres at the Cressida House. These were dangerous psychos, dressed to kill, probably literally . Oh. My. God. These were the Rogue Vampyres I was warned about! Shit, shit, shit.
    I was not drunk or asleep. But I was clearly in tons of trouble. Wouldn’t it just figure, the first time I find anyone attractive in like a year, he turns out to be a cuckoo-cuckoo killer Rogue Vampyre. A crazy, mortal-killing bloodsucker that had friends who had ripped his sister’s limbs off.
    Fuck. I couldn’t catch a break if it bit me in the ass.
    And what in the hell was that all about anyway? Ripping limbs off? Did they grow back? Did she get them surgically sewn back on? They looked too normal to have been sewn back on. Crap, why were they staring at me? Did I say any of that out loud? I needed to get the hell out of here.
    “Who do you belong to?” Brownie demanded.
    I had no idea what she was talking about. Did I have an owner? Like a dog? These Vampyres must be from some other kind of Vampyre club, because unless I was mistaken that was not how it worked in Kentucky, or anywhere else in the good old U S of A for that matter. That bullshit ended with the Civil War.
    Wait, did she think I was a hooker? I didn’t look like a hooker. She looked more like a hooker than I did in her big ass platforms and her boobies hanging out of that seriously cute Betsy Johnson. God, I’d love to have that dress. I would look great in that dress. I bet it cost a fortune. Shut up. Shut up. I didn’t have an answer to the question, which was rare, so I