More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
“Cheese, you’re an asshole.” Cheese looked at me and blinked slowly, his green eyes glowing in a sea of striped orange fur.
Thanksgiving. Hell, I ruined Christmas, too, according to our mother. I’ve always had a hard time keeping my mouth shut about “sensitive political topics” like who I fuck and whether people like me should have the right to exist.
Her smile was strained and it pulled at something in my chest. That invisible string that had always connected us, no matter how far apart we were. Or maybe it was heartburn. Either way, it was acting up big time.
“Shit.” And here I was hoping that wasn’t it. “Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do. We empty our bank accounts, you cut off your hair, I’ll dress in drag and we’ll go to Monaco to start over. We’ll be llama farmers. Do they have llamas in Monaco? Never mind, we’ll figure it out when we get there.” She raised an eyebrow. “Why is drag your solution to everything?”
And then, here’s this heavy black leather book with some shit that looks like emojis on the cover. But old-school emojis, like back in the day when we all used AIM and had our own personal Geocities pages.
I see you looking at me. All judgy, like you’ve never summoned the Dark One under the new moon out of desperation.
In short, he was like a boner generator on legs.
I started babbling incoherently, something along the lines of, “Aw… uh… huah?” He raised an eyebrow and in this super sexy Bond villain accent, he answered, “Come again, human?” And here I was thinking, “Again and again and again,” and he just kept staring, like he was the one in shock. Better try again, I thought. Second time’s always the charm. “Hi, Devil Daddy,” is what came out, and I smacked myself in the face.
“Let me try to put this in terms even you can understand.” He raised his cane and held the long staff between both hands. Slowly, he began to pull the dark wood apart until the split halves of the cane became two identical replicas of each other. “This Hell,” he said in a deliberate, mocking voice as he held the left cane up, and then the right. “This your world. In between is big space. Demon no cross. Need human vessel to transport energy.”
My face burned with embarrassment and irritation, but I was mostly just pissed that his condescension was turning me on. Then again, maybe it was the tight leather pants. Or both. The whims of my dick always had been an enigma.
“You contracted my sister to be your infernal baby mamma?”
It wasn’t the idea of fucking him that put me off. Hell, if the big guy was a carnival ride, I’d already have a stack of tickets bunched up in my fists.
“I’d be your bitch,” I said with a shrug. “I’ve had worse gigs.” He stared at me like I’d broken him. Could you break a demon? It felt like an accomplishment, even though I was pretty sure I should have been insulted by the look of horror in those red eyes.
“If all the witch bitches are so hangry for your dick, then why the fuck do you want my sister?” I cried.
“You know, how sometimes when an underworld demon lord loves a lightbearer very much and they wanna make a little army of the infernal damned…”
“Anything else? She tell you about my crush on Steve Buscemi? The time I got a fear boner in the phlebotomist’s office?” Apollyon rolled his eyes. “This isn’t…” He squinted. “Steve Buscemi?” “He’s an unconventional beauty. If he was a vampire, everyone would think he was hot.” “I don’t even know how to respond to that.”
“Hypothetically, if I were to piss myself right now, what are the chances that would stay between us?” “Slim,” she muttered. “Just wondering.”
“Seriously? I’m sitting spread eagle in front of you so you can size me up to be your hellspawn incubator and a towel over my dick is supposed to make me comfortable?”
He took one look at me and frowned. “What did you do?” “Me?” I cried, sitting up in the hospital bed. “Whenever I get called from work by panicked demons, it’s always because you’ve done something,” he muttered, sweeping into the room. He turned to the doctor, his eyes narrowed. “Is something wrong with the seed?”
“There’s a place even angels fear to tread,” Apollyon says wryly. “Massachusetts?” I blurt out. Now he and Sirena are both giving me withering stares. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist.”
“Like the baby in that ridiculous movie you dragged me to the theatre to watch three times?” “Okay one, Breaking Dawn Part One was a cinematic masterpiece,” I say, jabbing a finger at her. “And two, yes. That’s exactly what I’m worried about.”
“The most important part of the story,” I answer, leaning up to kiss him. “The happily ever after.” “Story, huh?” Apollyon snorts, slipping his arms around my waist. “A horror, perhaps?” “Nah,” I say, smiling. “Definitely a romance. You’ve got the long, flowing hair and cape and everything.”
Technically, it’s the end of our story--but that’s the thing about a romance, the thing that makes it different from every other kind of story. The end is just the beginning, and as for the most important part? Yeah. They lived happily fucking ever after.
