Little Shock of Hate (Creature Cafe, #4)

by Clio Evans

I moaned, palming my face. These needy fucking monsters.

“Oh, don’t be rude. He’s the grandson of Charon. Not quite as bright, but he likes driving around,” Meduso tsked.

I took a sip of my drink, only pausing for a moment to wonder if it was poisoned. No, the Barista wasn’t that angry.

Finally, the bastard left. I felt Noah relax some and turned my attention to him. “Finish your drink,” I said. “I’m ready to leave this place. The Barista’s presence is nauseating.”

“I’ll never understand humans. Love is love, Noah. Who told you it was wrong to feel love for another man? Or a monster? Why does it matter?”

I was annoyed, but I still sat down on one of the massive bags, crossing my arms. “I have extra money if you’d like an office chair for Christmas,” I offered.

“It’s like when a cat person dates a dog person.”

He blinked, his expression flattening. “I’m Lucifer.” “Oh,” I whispered, swallowing hard. He glared, crossing his arms. “You don’t seem impressed.” “I’m just not surprised to see you at this point,” I muttered. That wasn’t a lie either. The devil himself was in front of me, and all I could think about was how fucking numb I felt without Meduso. “Not surprised to see Lucifer himself? In the flesh?!” I sighed, my chest aching. “Not really. You’re famous, but anyone that knows the world of creatures knows you’re not really…like the devil. You’re the first fallen angel, and very powerful, but not like Barista powerful. I’ve known about creatures my whole life, and you’re one of them.”

He chuckled as his hand slid up my thigh. The heat of the water felt good, but the sudden realization that I was in water with the equivalent of a sexy devil toaster made me whimper.

I blinked, confusion settling in. “Are you…are you serious?” I asked, letting out a short laugh. But then, I couldn’t stop. I wheezed, laughing again until my stomach clenched. This… This was going to be fun.

He had to be at least seven feet tall, his body covered in soft gray fur. He was most definitely a werewolf, one that was confusingly dressed like an Oxford professor.

"Are they… are they all dead?" I asked. "Yes," he answered. "Their bodies have been disposed of. If we were in older times, I would have mounted their skulls on my door. But I realize that is barbaric."

One of his tentacles brushed over my thigh and then paused. “I thought I’d tease you with a garter. I know that’s like a weird human marriage thing, but….” “What do I do with it?” he asked, setting me down. “You take it off with your teeth.” “Oh,” Meduso snorted. “No hands or tentacles. That’s cheating.”