My Boyfriends Are All Monsters

by Kimberly Lemming

wish to be loved no matter what. The cheesy, happy kind of love that you see in those Hallmark

movies 8where everyone and their mother is contractually obligated to own a bakery or a golden retriever. And none of the men have girl best friends that so obviously want to fuck them!”

Memories resurfaced of a time when I did more than feast on these creatures that no longer bowed. I was worshipped once. I had a name.

She wished to be loved. I could do that. I could grant her wish in return for the sweet offering of her blood and her token. Anything for my newest acolyte. No. Anything for my Priestess.

I was not particularly superstitious, but a raven standing in the middle of the trail, staring a bitch down, did not seem like the best omen. “Can I help you?” Caw.

“I don’t . . . I don’t know what to do with that information.”

“This is what I get for taking my Black ass out in nature. This fresh air is an attack. I could have been home with a margarita, watching Love Is Blind. That’s it; I’m swearing off men. Dating is the evil of this world, and I will find a convent to become a fucking nun.”

Idk. Small town folks are weird. And horny, apparently.

Ruling over a populace as a god and feasting on

foolish travelers did not prepare you on how to properly soothe a potential mate. Why was dating so difficult?

“I want that too. But more than that, I don’t want to let you go. I want to touch you, taste and savor all that you are until my name cries from your lips like a prayer. Tell me your desires and I’ll craft a life so beautiful you’ll wake each morning with a smile on your face.”

“There’s three of you, aren’t there? Why choose?” “I’ll try to be gentle.” “Literally nobody told you to do that.”