Page 12 of Summoning Mr. Wrong (Hotter than Hell #1)

The path ended at a small clearing surrounded by tall trees. It was eerily quiet, the ambient noise of traffic and people completely absent, as if we’d stepped through an invisible barrier.

“What is this place?” I asked, my voice instinctively dropping to a whisper.

“A thin spot,” Deus said, his voice normal volume but somehow fitting the stillness. “A place where the barriers between realms are less substantial.”

I looked around with new interest. The clearing seemed ordinary enough—grass, wildflowers, dappled sunlight through the trees—but there was something about the quality of the light, the way the air felt against my skin, that was subtly different.

“Can you… see other realms here?” I asked.

“Not see, exactly. But feel.” Deus closed his eyes, his expression peaceful. “Here, try something.”

He moved behind me, his chest against my back, arms encircling me. I felt his breath against my ear as he spoke.

“Close your eyes,” he instructed softly. “Just breathe and listen.”

I did as he asked, letting my eyes fall shut. At first, I heard nothing unusual—bird calls, the rustle of leaves, the faint sound of Deus’s breathing.

“I don’t hear anything special,” I whispered.

“Not with your ears,” he said. “With the part of you that dreams. That imagines. That believes in things you can’t explain.”

It sounded like mystical nonsense, but I tried anyway, focusing on the feeling of the clearing rather than the sounds.

Gradually, I became aware of something—not a sound, exactly, but a sort of pressure, like the feeling before a thunderstorm.

A sense of potential, of something vast just beyond perception.

“I feel… something,” I admitted. “Like there’s more here than I can see.”

“There is.” His arms tightened slightly around me. “This is how I see your world all the time—as just one layer of many, all existing simultaneously.”

I opened my eyes, turning in his arms to face him. “Is that why you were drawn to me? Because I can sense this?”

His expression was unreadable. “Perhaps. Or perhaps I just like your coffee.”

I laughed, the sound strangely loud in the quiet clearing. “My coffee is mediocre at best.”

“True.” He smiled, but there was something wistful about it. “We should head back. You have job applications to send.”

As we walked back toward the main park, hand in hand, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something significant had just happened, though I couldn’t quite put my finger on what.