Wait, Am I A Zombie? [BOOK 3]

I made it three feet before everything was not fine. A hulking behemoth of an Indian guy stepped in front of me, arms crossed over his huge barrel chest, legs spread wide. Dude looked super—

"Is that Bubbles?!" I squealed, pulling his arms apart and twisting his biceps to see the blue cartoon character from one of my all time favorite shows. "You watch PowerPuff Girls?"

"Only the classic. The new one is atrocious," he said with absolute finality like we were talking about some serious shit. "Got Blossom on my right hand and Buttercup watching my back."

"Ohmygod, you have to let me see!"

Maybe it wasn't queenly behavior to gush over a kids TV show and some random vamp's awesome tattoo game, but I didn't care. Well, I cared about his tatts and his opinions on Adventure Time with Lady Ranicorn riding his calf, but the rest of them I could give a flying fart about. Pretty soon our little chat turned into a group of about ten vamps talking cartoons while others broke into similar groups. I made my way around the groups, getting stopped every so often by a vampire who wanted to come at me but, being myself, I just distracted them with my ever present ADD. There were enough flashy clothes, accents, jewelry, and tattoos floating around to throw everyone off their game.

Making it to Bane was easy. Getting everyone to be quiet was a lot harder. Like no duh, Hermes was better than Birkenstock. And who would even think about comparing Legends of Korra to the Original Avatar: The Last Airbender. Space travel wasn't some sci-fi TV show, it already happened and the Grays were living among us, controlling our governments.

"I don't understand how you did this," Bane whispered in my ear while looking at the various groups.

"It's a party, Bane. People talk."

He nipped my earlobe. "It's not a party and they aren't people."

Potato potato.

A piercing whistle from Casper stopped the conversation dead and it was only then that everyone realized I'd crossed the room. Not only had I crossed the room, but I'd done it without really leaving any lasting impressions. I was just that talkative non-vamp chick who somehow became queen and passed a sea of vamps with pop culture references.

Score one for television and the internet!

Bane stepped forward, words heavy and dripping with hundreds of years of experience. "My people. Tonight we acknowledge a new power, one you have just seen for yourself. My wife, Peaches."

I stepped forward, giving a little wave and an awkward, "What's up?"

"Tonight is not her acceptance of our ways, but ours of hers. She brings with her skills and knowledge—from her life, from myself, from our kin—" He waved a hand at Casper, Zeno, Luther, and Samantha. "She will serve you as I have: faithfully and completely."

Bane stepped back, giving me the floor. This was the part where I gave a little speech, one I'd had to write on the fly and of course left in the dressing room. Thing was, I still didn't know for a hundred percent what Bane actually did as king. My concept of throne sitting and politicking was wrong. Maybe not the politicking but the man did a lot more, most behind the scenes that I hadn't yet gotten to know.

But I did have one thing going for me. One very important thing. "I got Zenobia's blessing."

Gasps and murmurs erupted and I smiled because half were cool with it and the other were certainly not. Getting a slightly-off-her-rocker ex-queen's blessing was a double-edged sword for sure.

Stepping back and planting myself at Bane's side, I waited for the next thing.

Six figures pulled away from the crowd and formed a line in front of Bane and myself. "Peaches," Bane started, gesturing to the vamps. "Let me introduce the Merchants of the Middle East and Africa."

He started with Ivy. "Ivy of West Africa, Oscar of the South Middle East, Barney of the North Middle East, Banks of Northern Africa, Rajamar of East Africa, and you know Lutherh—e oversees the Middle and South of Africa."

I stared at the six vamps who I'd be working pretty closely with for the foreseeable future. Ivy was the only woman, marked by that green hair. Luther was the only white dude. The other four were a bit harder to discern. Rajamar was thin and short with a beard that took over his face. Barney was nothing like the purple dinosaur, instead dressed as some rich sheik, clean shaven with every finger weighed down by gold. Banks would have been rather nondescript: 5'10, black, muscled, however he had a wicked looking scar running from his left temple down to his clavicle in a raised, jagged line that gave the Phantom of the Opera a run for his money.

Now that I thought about it, I hadn't seen any marks on vampires. The fact that he had one said something; I just wasn't sure what.

Taking a step toward the Merchants, I greeted them each by name, acknowledging them. What I didn't expect was their acknowledgement back. Luther smiled like a proud parent before dropping to his knees, resting his forehead on the floor and stretching his arms straight in front of him. Ivy followed suit, but the four men who I didn't know stood standing. They weren't the only ones, as the room seemed divided with people either standing, tilting their heads in recognition, bending at the knee, or straight up prostrating themselves.

Powers were in play here and it was time I added mine to the mix. Deliberately, I raised my brow at the four male Merchants, moving my gaze to Ivy and Luther. "Respect is given, gentlemen. My daddy taught me that." I stepped from the small stage, keeping my gaze level, a trick Samantha had taught me. "I gave mine. How about yours?"

Out of the corner of my eye I caught Samantha, Casper, and Zeno in the same position. FREAKING ZENO! When I refocused on my Merchants their heads were bent. Better than nothing.

For now.

Bane didn't prostrate himself, not that I expected him to. We were equals, rulers.

I stepped back to his side, feeling way too many things to pinpoint: relief, fear, pride, worry. Negatives and positives warred for dominance, but everything sort of swirled together and just gave me a stomach ache.

After another second, people began to rise. "Milikati," Ivy said gently as a girl melted from the crowd with a small wooden box. "Even though we don't have jeweled crows as you consider them, miliki thought you would like one anyway."

"Ohmygod! Yes!"

Out of the plain box came my seven year-old fantasy, glittering and gold. Claire's hair clip tiaras had nothing on this bad boy! Thirty or so rays extended from the rounded top like rays of the sun while the base twined around itself as if vines on a tree. With a gold base and hundreds of intricate gemstones—most of which I couldn't even name—the crown looked more fit for a goddess than a queen.

Oh God, what if I drop it? What if it falls off my head? What if the wind knocks it over?

It was one thing to see a crown worth a small country and quite another to wear it in your hair. Hair that I once went a month without washing! That's gotten be against the laws of nature. Crowns can't go in hair that was once left to—

"Jameela, habibiti," Bane whispered as something heavy and foreign made itself known on my head.

Holy crap there was a crown on my hair. Holy flying donkey turds! I WAS A QUEEN!

"Oh crap, I'm blackin out," I panted as spots danced in my vision. "I'm blackin' out , Bane."

"You are not," he scoffed, scooping me up and saying something to the crowd of supernaturals. They laughed. Clapped even. A few corks were popped, liquid poured, glasses clinked. But I couldn't really focus on anything because my queen reality set in with the literal weight on my shoulders—err, head.

"I am here for you, Peaches. You are not alone."

Sinking into Bane, I let myself really believe that for a second. Let myself picture a future where we were side by side, ruling over a court of finely dressed people. I even added some kids in there, our kids, running around as Samantha laughed and held her pregnant belly and Casper tried to raise a none-too subtle brow at Zeno who broke out in hives and left the room. I let myself sink into that fantasy brought on by all the movies and none of the historical accuracies.

Fantasy was fun for a second, calming even, but then it was done and real life came knocking at the door with way more vehemence and way less sunshiney, faux-happiness tint.

The crown was heavy and awkward, but like everything else I'd get used to it and then wear the hell out of it.

Chapter Eleven: Oh, It's That Part Where the Evil Villain Comes Out

"Hurry up!" Bane yelled at me from the living room for the third time. "How long does it take for you to get ready?"

Smudged. Slamming the plastic mascara bottle on the bathroom vanity, I grabbed a bar of hotel soap and chucked it at the door. "Will you shut up! You're ruining my concentration."

I knew I should have just let Bane do my make-up, but it chafed that my husband was better at making me look good than I was. Actually, it was more than that. Bane was better at everything. Better at thinking before reacting, planning, dressing—Hell! He was even better at managing me than I was. I was on the hot mess express and Bane was sitting next to me in a cool suit with a smile.

"Come on, Ms. Hot Mess," Bane called through the door with a chuckle.

Staring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror I forced myself to project power and confidence. I'd passed all three of those stupid tests. Yeah, maybe all of them had been by a hairbreadth but dammit I did it! Earned that right to be called queen, even as I was still learning everything that entailed. At least there was a fancy reception where I got to breakout all my new designer threads. There had to be some perks to fighting to the death and taking on the responsibility of a few hundred vampires.

Power. Confidence. Peaches.

"Let's go," I announced, swinging the bathroom door wide and stepping through it with my chin held high.

Bane looked at me and winced. "What are you supposed to be?"

Not exactly the reaction I was going for... I looked down at myself and the strategically torn white dress splattered with fake blood and mud. My hair was in equal dissay with leaves I'd picked up in the courtyard scattered in the strands down my back and over my shoulders. My face, I knew, had deep gashes where fake knives supposedly attacked and heavy dark circles excuentated by pale foundation to give me that real undead look.

I spread my arms wide and spun in a circle. "Zombie. You don't like it?"

A second later he was gone, half a second later he was back. His arms swung wildly, fingers smudges against the air as he tackled my make-up, hair, and rips in my dress. Turning back to the bathroom, I gasped at the creature reflected. I'd managed a pretty good version of a Halloween zombie but Bane made me look like I was really part of the brain eater league.

"You should have just let me do it. This is a much better imitation."

"Might not be an imitation," I muttered.

Bane sighed gustily. "You're not a zombie."

Just because he declared it like that didn't make it true.

My husband turned a sharp eye on me. "You're fully cognizant. Not decomposing. No rigamortis or blood coagulation. In other words: not dead."

"So you say."

Bane rolled his eyes and threw up his hands. "When vampires turn, our physiology changes. There are the ones that are immediate: fangs, hearing, and the eyes. Our other changes happen later, like puberty in humans.

"The current rendition of 'zombie' which you're getting from TV," he exaggerated the word and put a whole lot of skepticism in it, "is human made. Whatever you are isn't human or made from them."

"Same can be said about vampires."

He shook his head and moved into the suite's living room. "Vampires were not created by humans in any shape or form. It is said we were created by gods to cull the population."

Huh? That was news to me.

Bane slid his hands down my sides, lingering on my hips and pinching my butt. "It's a myth, but one I subscribe to as it makes the most sense."

"Sure, sure," I absently agreed as I swatted at his wandering hands. "You're a sexier version of the plague."

My husband finally let go with a wolfish grin and tweak of my nipple. "You think I'm sexy?"

"Don't even go there, Bane. You're nowhere near out of the dog house so don't start what you can't finish."

"Who says I can't finish, habibti?" he purred.

"The clock."

Dancing out of his arms, I crossed the room, set on heading out before I gave in to his promise of fantastic orgasms and ended up an hour late smelling freshly fucked.

"Aren't you missing something?" Bane asked as I turned. He held up a small faux leather clutch and wiggled his eyebrows.

I marched over to him and grabbed the bag of folded up flats. They were the best invention since, well, whatever the best invention was. I was going to go with Adventure Time. I freaking loved that show, and someone had invented it.

"Let's go." Bane's arm curved around my waist, and we were flying down the hall before I could let out a peep.

It was a short ride down the elevator and an even shorter walk to the ballroom, but my feet still started to hurt almost immediately. I'd even worn my walking heels. Ha! When I told my mom about walking heels, she'd laughed in my face and told me there was no such thing. But there definitely was.

I snapped my attention away from the pain in my feet and my inner thoughts when we hit the doors to the ballroom. Sure, I could entertain myself with meaningless thoughts, but that would leave me wide open for an attack. The best thing was to try and hyperfocus, have all my bases covered, and not fall flat on my face in these heels.

"If you hate them so much take them off," Bane growled beside me.

I turned to him and cocked my hip. I pulled my dress up to show my killer pumps. "These are Alexander McQueen's, Bane. If I can't walk in these, then I don't deserve to wear heels."

The man looked at me like I was crazy. "Since when have you cared about designers?"

Since I could afford them. I might not be the girliest girl, but I knew expensive and I knew how to appreciate it. Maybe in a couple years I wouldn't care about Hermes bags on my shoulders or Louis Vuitton scarves around my neck, but for the moment I had money. Alright, Bane's money, but I had it. I was just going to copy Madonna and be a material girl living in a material world.

My husband shook his head and pushed the doors wide. "I think I might have to cut you off from pop culture."

Fat chance of that happening. I was in deep. I was a product of my generation, and I loved it. I wrinkled my nose. "I think I've been hanging out with Samantha too much. I know all these big words."

"Is that a bad thing?"

I shrugged. I didn't know and didn't really care. I had a task for tonight. Survive the party, sniff out the bad guy, and then go to Disney World. It really wasn't too much to do.

Stepping into the ballroom I was hit with the smell of an overwhelming amount of blood. Had someone died in here? Oh god, was there going to be, like, a weird ritual where someone was sacrificed in my honor? I was not into that unless it was a cow. And, I mean, like, a really bad cow who killed all the other cows and was psychotic, and the best punishment for him would be to be cooked and put in my stomach.

I looked around, trying to pinpoint the murder scene smell. I didn't see anything out of the ordinary. Just a lot of fancy people in ball gowns, sipping on red wine. Wait a minute! "Is there blood in those wine glasses?"

Bane's hand was at the small of my back as he led me deeper into the room. "Yes."

Alrighty then.

I smiled as two men stopped in front of us, pausing our "this is total a casual stroll and not a surveillance op" walk. Bane introduced me to the men—er, werewolves—who sniffed my wrist and bowed over my hand. They were white as the driven snow with dark brown hair cut in military fashion and bulk reserved for the WWE. Dudes could give Batista a run for his money.

"Your invitation was much appreciated..." Elijas, the one with the crooked row of bottom teeth began in heavily accented English, "Forgive me, I have forgotten the name you now go by."

"Bane," my husband said smoothly. "To my friends."

The man leaned forward and did that brothers-in-arms handshake that started at the elbow. "Bane, mano draugas, Alpha Algirdas sends his regards. His mate is expecting any day now."

"It's no problem," Bane assured. "Now, please, Elijas, Simas, enjoy yourselves."

Both men nodded politely before moving on. My face was cracking something fierce from holding a smile I didn't feel. Nope, I was edgy. Somewhere in the crowd someone wanted to get me. Maybe a lot of someones. The lack of open windows and free flow of blood and alcohol didn't make me feel any better.

"Where were they from?" I asked Bane as we slowly circled around the room.

"Lithuania."

"That's in Europe, right?"

"Eastern, yes."

Nodding, I tried to refocus my thoughts, prodding at the mind of anyone I touched. Hard stuff to do gently. Sure I could just push my way in, but with me projecting mundane human thoughts, watching the crowd of supernaturals, and making sure no one knew I could do the whole MR-ing thing, gently forcing my way through thoughts was just too much. At least with touch I already had an established link. After that it was just making sure I didn't get caught. Ugh. There was sweat pooling at the small of my back and under my arms from the effort, not to mention the massive headache. Subtly was not one of my qualities.

"Malikati, Miliki," Oscar—or was is Barney?—said, approaching with the ease and sophistication of a guy who'd been born at a shindig like this with a little tuxedo and all. "You both look well this evening."

I smiled at the man and the other Merchant behind him, trying to remember whose name matched whose face. Bane saved me by nodding to each man and saying their name, "Barney, Oscar."

Lemme just click that mental image and lock it down. Barney. Oscar. Barney. Oscar. Gotcha.

"Gentlemen," I acknowledged, holding out my hand, palm down. They stared at the appendage with mild confusion, making me confused. But it clicked the next second with Oscar's white, long dress thing. Wasn't there a thing in Islam about men not touching women who weren't family or something?

"Oh, exc—"

Never apologize, Bane said instantly in my mind, his muscles locking beneath my hand. A queen never apologies.

I shut my mouth.

He continued, They are wrong. No matter what the circumstance, they adapt to you. Not the other way around.

I mentally rolled my eyes. It's religious, Bane. It's not like they can help it.

It is not religious; they are not Muslim. And even if they were, they are vampires, habibti; we live indefinitely. You and I are the closest things they will have to gods. Never forget that.

He turned to the Merchants, who were looking at us very carefully, and raked them with a condescending glance. "You disappoint me and insult your queen."

They stepped back and bowed deeply. I'd never seen anything like it. (1) Bane was oh so hot when he was in king mode, and (2) I finally got what he meant. It was a power play.

"That was not our intention," Barney murmured, head still lowered.

"Kazaab." Bane barked out a harsh laugh and the room quieted immediately. "The tests have ended. As has my patience."