Wait, Am I A Zombie? [BOOK 3]

"Well, you should be," I mumbled.

Luther snapped his gaze to me and his eyes narrowed warningly. I watched Samantha reach over and place a comforting hand on Luther's thigh. "As much as we hate to admit it, Georgia," she said quietly, "We are just as in the dark as you are."

Ugh, I hated when she called me that. Georgia Kent was who I used to be, my old self before I died. Peaches...whatever Bane's last name was, was who I was now. I turned to Bane. "What is your last name, anyway?"

My husband was sitting across from me, working on an iPad that had just magically appeared on his seat on the plane. I'd only ever seen Bane use any sort of technology twice, and both times were today. He'd called Alpha Pheehan using his phone, and he was now using an iPad.

His fingers swept quickly across the touchscreen. "I don't have a last name."

I leaned forward in my seat. "What do you mean you don't have a last name?"

He looked up at me, but his eyes were remote, expression deadpan. "Slaves were not given last names."

I knew that Bane had an interesting history, and he'd even told me he considered himself to be a king, servant, and warrior once, but I didn't think he'd actually been a slave. Wow, that was a whole new level of Bane I didn't know.

"Tell me," I said into his mind.

Bane's eyes snapped to mine and widened incrementally. I didn't usually initiate our little mind chats for many reasons. I was still getting used to my mind reading abilities, and if I dived a little too deep into someone's mind, I went into their memories and brought whatever they had experienced back with me. In theory, it was a cool gift, but when I'd done it with Luther and the kid had had a sword run through him, it had become a lot less cool.

Since then, thanks to Samantha, I've gotten a lot better at managing my powers. Actually, thanks to all three of them—Casper, Samantha, and Luther—I was better at a lot of things. Of course, working my ass off from dawn till dusk had done nothing for my figure.

"Sometimes," Bane spoke out loud, "the past should be left where it is."

A sudden thickness took over the plane, but I wasn't going to let Bane silence me with that BS non-answer. "And sometimes we need to remember the past to keep it from occurring in the future."

Brown eyes met mine, a silent entreaty in them to stop. The look startled me. Bane had always been aggressive, seductive, and kind of manipulative, but unguarded? The man was probably the first creature to invent the "guarded" look. But the naked pain in his eyes hit me and made me look at my husband as not just a stoic, highly masculine male, but a being who felt the full range of emotions to their ecstatic, amazing points and absolutely horrific falls with everything in between.

I looked down, unable to meet his eyes. I'd always been a pusher. Not like the drug kind, but like the one who couldn't read a room and would keep asking, "What's wrong?" when silence was best. I felt a little...I don't know, a mix of ashamedness and heartache. Had I been putting Bane on a pedestal of masculinity? Had I expected him to just be a warrior who fought and fucked with the same zeal, and felt no other emotions?

"Peaches." It was Casper's voice, and he sounded...surprised.

I looked up, and everyone was looking at me like I'd grown another head. I didn't react; it happened a lot. Casper cleared his throat and spoke, "That was beautiful, Georgia, and quite a startling realization. I didn't know you were so...self reflective."

I shrugged carelessly, not meeting anyone's eyes. "I thought I'd be a psychologist for a while; took some classes. I do know what I'm talking about sometimes, you guys."

Heaviness descended again. I let it sit even though it chafed badly. I wanted someone to talk, to break the oppressive silence. God, why wouldn't anyone talk? I wasn't going to be the one to break it. I couldn't. I—

"Would Peaches Smith make you feel better?" Bane's voice washed over the plane like a soothing balm. I could breathe again.

"Got something a little less white?"

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Peaches, but you are Caucasian?" Casper interjected dryly.

He had a point. "Fine." I crossed my arms. "Then something less WASPish."

Bane looked at me and frowned. "Meaning...?"

I rotated my wrist. "You know. WASP. White Anglo-Saxon Protestant. Just choose an Egyptian name."

"Why does it matter?" Zeno joined the conversation. "Are we all ignoring the fact that this—this creature can spit acid and eat the dead?"

"Zeno, bes," Casper growled in the sort of way Bane growled when he was angry at me.

She whipped her head to him, fangs out, hair a wild tumble around her face. Even angry, Zeno looked smokin' hot. I mean, like, if I wasn't strictly dickly, I would have pounced on her in a heartbeat.

"Careful, Peaches," Bane whispered in my mind, laughter laced through the words.

"Even her thoughts are disgusting," Zeno spit, still turned away from me. And I thought she'd be flattered.

Casper stood up slowly, dressed in a suit that was probably as expensive as the plane we were on. It was blacker than night, his shirt whiter than freshly fallen snow. The colors contrasted sharply; it only made him stand out more. Casper looked like a playboy, the wannabe bad boy that sat in a CEO chair and lorded his power over everyone.

His hand shot out and clamped around her wrist. "Zenobia." His voice was furious. I didn't catch the rest of what he said because it was in rapid-fire Arabic, but whatever he said made Bane laugh.

I looked over at my husband, head tilted to the side, legs crossed with a smile on his face. Casper said something and Bane grimaced and threw in his Arabic two cents. I listened, though that was about as helpful as being in an invisible jewelry store. It was their expressions that were comical as hell. Zenobia looked like she was a mix of wicked pissed and hurt. Bane looked amused, like he was enjoying himself. Casper looked disappointed with a touch of lust, if I was reading his eyes—that were focused on Zeno's breasts—correctly.

"So, uh, what's going on?"

"Nothing!" Zeno and Casper snapped, while Bane gave me a look that said I should have known better.

The plane jumped a little; Zeno and Casper sat back down. I leaned closer and lifted one eyebrow. "Seriously? Just tell me or I'll simply—"

"Zenobia is Casper's ex-wife." Luther's voice could have cut butter. I bet he'd been a diplomat in a past life if, uh, vampires had past lives.

"Not ex," Casper growled, eyes trained on Zeno. "We never finalized it."

"It is final to me."

I blanched. "Seriously?" I looked at Casper, then at Bane's sister, and back at Casper. "Really?"

Zeno was a fine woman, no doubt, but she was rockin' them crazy eyes. And I knew crazy. Three years at Kmart and I'd seen all kinds of people. It seemed to be a trend that the hotter the chick, the crazier her eyes were.

I shook my head and laughed. "Well, that definitely explains it."

No one said anything. I'd said it all. Zeno didn't even try to defend herself. Oh, that was worse, when a heifer knew she was crazy and just kept on. The sex must've been explosive.

"Too far," Casper gritted out.

I shook my head and relaxed back into my seat. "Nah, just far enough." I yawned. "Yo, one of you wake me up when we get there. I'm gonna catch some z's."

In a second, I was out.

Chapter Two: All the Wrong Moves

"Peaches," Bane's voice drew me away from my dreams. "It's time to wake up. We're here."

"Hmm?" I was tired. Exhausted. Like everything that had happened in the last twelve days was finally hitting me. I stretched, scrunched up my face and let out a huge yawn. "In Egypt?"

I blinked up at Bane. He smiled gently at me, and reached down to place a kiss on my forehead. "Yes, habibiti."

He said that to me a lot—habibiti—but I still had no clue what it meant. My eyes scanned the small space of the aircraft, looking for our friends. Nowhere. I glanced back up at my husband. "What does that mean?"

Bane pulled me up and tugged me closer to him. Fitting in tight to the shelter of his body, I relaxed and pressed my nose to his shirt as his fingers linked at the small of my back. He leaned his head closer to mine and his breath tickled my ear.

"It has many meanings." A lick on the shell of my ear and I shivered. Hot. Needy. "Friend." My response to my husband was immediate as he kissed the spot right below my ear. "Sweetheart." Moaning, I fisted his shirt, fingernails scraping across his abdomen as I leaned my head back to give him better access. "Beloved."

Fangs brushed the vein throbbing at my neck. Once. Twice. Nipping gently before swiping his tongue across to alleviate the ache. Damn but the man was sex standing up, sitting down, the whole nine yards. Bane took seduction to a new level—took an innocent peck and made it explicit. If we weren't about to head into the lion's den, I would have pushed him down on the seat, straddled his lap, and rode myself to a few happy, mindless orgasms.

"How do you use the word?" I moaned as his fangs slid against my skin again, almost piercing but not quite. Gentle. Teasing.

Raw. Unfiltered. That was all I wanted with Bane. We didn't walk around what we wanted, demur and that bullshit. Gripping, fighting, fucking. It was all or nothing between us and I liked that, respected him more for the blatant way he wore everything on his sleeve.

Bane chuckled and pulled back. His eyes were brown, completely devoid of hunger—well the food kind anyway—and I was pretty sure our flight attendant was a few ounces light. "We have to go."

Sighing, I drew back from the loose circle of his arms and ran my hand over his biceps. "Answer my question first."

My head was back, neck arched with his hand fisted in my hair before I could blink. I felt Bane's tongue trace a vein on my neck, fangs bleeding me. He lapped it up, sucking hard and fast before easing and running his tongue over the spot in gentle glides. If he'd bit a little deeper, sucked harder, brought me flush against his body and rubbed, I would have come. I was that close—that desperate for him.

"You already know the answer." He released me, turning and grabbing my hand. "Now, come on, Peaches. We have to go."

Batting at his hand, I waved to my body. "I can't go out looking like this."

Turning, he looked over his shoulder and gave me a once-over. "You look fine."

I snorted. "Give me five minutes to freshen up."

"You have one."

Had Bane been in a coma for the last few days? Cocking my hip, I barked out a laugh, more amused than anything. "I now have ten."

We played a battle of wills for a second, but no matter what he said, I was gonna win. I refused to go out and greet his vampire kingdom looking like a hotass mess.

Bane reached up, wrapped a hand around my waist, gave me a blisteringly hot kiss, and pulled back. "Five minutes," he said, sitting back down in his seat and crossing his arms.

Of course I took ten because, well, I'm me. But hey, after being on a plane for an entire day, ten minutes in the bathroom was still fifty minutes short of what I really needed. I had that weird airplane smell. My hair looked disastrous, though I was starting to love the color. It was light purple at the top and darkened as it went down. My ends were still red, so I had this ombre thing going on. But my skin was all puffy, I had bags under my eyes, my muscles felt stiff and—

Complaining was in my nature and I could do it till the cows hopped up on the plane and came all the way to Egypt, but I stopped myself. Ten minutes was what I had and I didn't want to waste them bitching.

I splashed water everywhere: on my face, hair, armpits. Did a quick body wash, finger combed my hair, toweled my face and slapped on some lip gloss and mascara. No one would say I looked God-awful anymore, but I was sure no one was gonna stop me on the street and ask for a picture.

"Peaches!" called Bane.

One last looksee in and mirror and... decent. A hard decent. Frowning at the lime green jeans and a multi-colored see-through flower top, I made a mental note to dress in haute couture for my next flight, ya know when I'd meet my subjects again. Rocking kindergarten teacher clothes was fine before I got the whole crown and scepter thing—Did vampires do that? Pfft. If they didn't I was starting the trend—but now I had to invest in soft cream and camel colors, neutral and airy.

Boring.

"Peaches!"

Screw it. Changing to suit other people didn't suit me. So I was going to rock this outfit like Ms. Frizzle.

"Coming! Hold your freakin' horses."

Taking a deep breath, I left the safety of the miniscule bathroom. Bane stood in the doorway leading off the plane, eyebrow raised, before he turned and descended. I followed, head held high and back straight. Way too many Lifetime movies that somehow always seemed to involve a prince or princess for one holiday or another gave me a frame of reference for how I should carry myself. Light fingers, soft step, pleasant smile, shoulders back, hair gently caressed by the wind, the pierce of a baby's scream.

No, that wasn't right.

So, here's what I expected. Queen Elizabeth treatment. Dressed up people on either side of a red carpet, and at the end of the line would be a waiting white limo. This wasn't from a book or my imagination. The Queen of England was real and her entrances always looked like the boom. Mine was not even close to that.

It was dark. I tripped on the last step, almost fell but caught myself on the railing. There was no one waiting for us at the end of the stairs, no red carpet, just a lot of sand that blew straight into my face. In the distance—like the super-duper distance—I could make out some lights but all around me was basically dessert.

A few feet away was a fleet of sleek black cars. Our gang was collected around a car in the front, where a green-haired lady bounced a squirming, wailing infant and another woman stood beside her, breast out, nursing another baby. Both women looked worn the hell out, from the bags under their eyes, to the wrinkled and stained state of their clothes, and their sharp but quiet voices.

"Would you like me to take her?" Samantha offered gently, holding her arms out.

Luther's eyes widened, his hand reaching out as if to stop the exchange, but he was interrupted.

"Please," the green-haired lady said, exasperation clear as she dropped the child into Samantha's arms. "She wants Dylla, but throws a fit if it's not the left nipple. They both do. I don't understand how they can tell the difference since object permanence hasn't set in." Baby out of her arms, the green-haired woman turned to her partner and immediately started to speak softly, arm around her shoulder and head low.

Samantha tucked in the little nothing, nuzzling her hair and softly rocking her. Luther stared with the strangest expression over her shoulder, somewhere amidst heartbreak, fear, love, and regret. "Samantha, give the child—"

"I'm fine," she said so softly, if I hadn't been craning my neck to listen I probably wouldn't have caught it. "Everything is fine. Isn't it, eamut-pah?"

"Peaches," Bane said, drawing my attention back to him. He grabbed my hand, and placed it on his sleeve. The gesture was kingly, I think. What was a kingly gesture anyway? All the supernaturals I'd met acted like royalty, so I couldn't really tell the difference.

We started to stroll to the group. That's right, stroll. Like we were taking a leisurely walk through the park.

Me trying to spit sand out of my mouth and the scattering of pebbles let the group know we were coming. The two moms looked up before breaking away from the group and coming to greet me. Green-haired lady bowed low, a smile tugging the tired lines of her face up. "Maliki."

Up close she was super pretty, like could have been a stunt double for Salma Hayek gorgeous. All thick green hair curling down her back, kohl-lined eyes, and pink cupid bow lips. It didn't hurt that she wore a flowy cotton dress, dirty and wrinkled sure, but if it'd been pressed and washed I was sure she would have looked stunning in the purple and gold. A tiny part of me, the jealous side I usually ignored, did a little jig at her obviously exhausted state. Nice but not hot. That's the kind of woman I wanted surrounding my husband.

The other woman, who was nursing, tried to curtsey but Bane sucked his teeth and pulled her up. "'Asead, Dylla." Shaking his head, Bane looked at the infant attached to her and pressed a finger to the child's plump cheek. My heart did a flip before a heavy weight settled in my stomach. Did Bane want a family? Did he have a family? Were these his concubines? His children?

"Mine," Green-haired lady said with a heavy dose of territorialism. Glancing toward her, I watched the woman place a hand around Dylla's hip and draw the woman to her side. "My wife and my family."

Thank God for that. "Cool. Thought I was going to have to rip out your throat."

Her eyes widened before glancing over to Bane and then back to me. I smiled, not going to take back the words at all. "I'm Peaches."

"Ivy." She didn't offer a last name which made me think she was a vampire, the fangs helped too. "This is Dylla."

There was something off about Dylla, something that I just couldn't put my finger on. Moving closer, I reached out to shake Ivy's hand and turned to peruse Dylla with the same careful attention Bane gave everything. Ugh, I was picking up his habits.

Normal. The woman looked exceedingly average, from the black hair in a loose bun that looked like little fingers had tugged it undone to the child suckling on her breast. She looked...

Human.

"You're not a vampire?" I blurted, eyes bulging as I looked at her and the baby.

"No, I'm not," she replied stiffly, slight accent in her voice.

"But she is," I gestured to confirm that those fangs weren't cosmetic and the slight red bleeding into her eyes wasn't a trick of the light. "Right?"

Dylla cocked her head, her ire becoming more pronounced. "Miliki is a vampire but you're not. Luther is a vampire but Samantha isn't. I'm not sure why this is a problem for you."

"It's not," I rushed to assure, feeling like a jerk.

"Is it our sexuality causing you discomfort?"

Dylla stepped forward and got into my five feet of personal space. The vampires around us stiffened in response, but it just made me cock my head. Like her reaction would make sense if I had started bashing on lesbians from the jump, but I hadn't. Nope. She was acting like a woman used to her sexuality being questioned, sneered at, made out to be a big ass problem.

Wasn't like prejudice had an expiration date, and idiocy was still a staple around the world. Vampires weren't magically exempt from being douchebags (ehem, Ariel) and when it came to a person's free will a-holes loved to snatch that up.

Girl was about to learn quick that I was not a douchebag, a-hole, or (usually) an idiot.

Offering Dylla a friendly smile, I said, "I was more surprised to see another human in this world. So far it's just been Brother's Grimm peeps and me. It's nice to have another person who gets where I'm coming from with the humanity and everything. Your sexuality causing me discomfort? Not a thing. You do you, girl. Live your best life."

She blinked, completely taken aback. "Well, uh, thank you," she stammered, flustered.

Right, queens weren't supposed to talk like that. Or maybe they were? I was a vampire queen, I didn't play by human rules. So, yeah. Queens sure as hell sounded and acted like me. The awesome ones did anyway.