Little Shock of Hate (Creature Cafe, #4)

by Clio Evans

“No. I’ll find you someone that will rip the hate right out of you, you ugly tentacled bastard.

“No, sir, that’s not what I agreed to. If you want a bitch that will obey you without question, you should have gone to the pet center. I’m here for a date, not to be commanded.”

“You will still dance. But you will not dance for them, you will dance for me. You may show your body to them, but no one will ever touch you after this point unless I let them. Or they will die.” Fuck. “I’m not a good man, Noah. But I will take care of you. You’re alone in this world, and so am I. I’m tired of being alone.”

His current situation with his ex was pressing, but he and I both knew he would handle it.

“Well, I don’t have a crazy devil for an ex.” “No, but now my crazy devil of an ex has remembered our old friendship. You’re not safe.”

“Basically, my ex has decided that since I am unwilling to love him—everyone I help must suffer. So he’s sent their demons after them. Or even recently, sent his own children to do his dirty work.” “Well, that’s what happens when you date the devil himself.” “Lucy was good for a while, you know.” I raised a brow. “You knew he wasn’t the one. You see souls for what they are, see how they fit together in the web of fate. You’re a reaper, for god’s sake. But you still made a life with him.”

“Let him go, Meduso.” I looked up weakly, surprised to see the Barista standing on the sidewalk. Meduso shook his head, and then I heard bones crunch. My lips parted in shock as the tentacles lit up, electrocuting his prey and crushing his body. Lucifer’s laughter turned into screams as blood burst from his eyes and mouth. I heard words from the Barista but couldn’t understand them. “Meduso,” I whispered, my vision swimming. The last thing I saw was his shoes. They were covered in the devil’s crimson blood.

“He’s not really dead, you idiot. You just made everything so much worse,” he snarled. “How fucking dare you kill him?” I dropped Lucifer’s limp body. He thudded against the ground, a lifeless doll. I wiped my hands on my jacket while staring down the Barista, not allowing my internal fears to waver my words. “He touched my mate. He was causing you problems, and more problems for me as well. He was annoying.” “You didn’t kill him correctly, and now he’ll come back much stronger. Fallen angels don’t just die at the hands of demons. Lucifer will come back, and not only will he have more power—he’ll have even more ammo!” he screamed, throwing out his arms.

“One year,” he murmured, shaking his head. “That’s how long it will take for him to regenerate, and then he will wage war on me. His soul will be even more wretched than now.”

You’ve completely changed me in just a couple of days, and now I’m convinced that you’re more powerful than any god or devil in this world. I’ve never been defeated so easily.”

He was fickle, demented, downright evil—a monster. But he was my monster. My downright evil, demented, fickle mate that had found me.

“How about we travel for a year and then come back?” I asked. “Why just a year?” he asked. I paused, thinking about Lucifer. Thinking about the trouble that would come to this small corner of the monster world. “I owe the Barista,” I answered. “And he’ll need my help.”