Page 15 of Summoning Mr. Wrong (Hotter than Hell #1)
The next week passed in a blur of job applications, interviews, and increasingly domestic moments with Deus. He continued to cook elaborate meals, clean the apartment, and generally make himself useful in ways that went far beyond what I’d expect from a demon.
He also continued to help me release his “excess energy,” which I certainly wasn’t complaining about.
Sex with Deus was unlike anything I’d experienced before—intense, sometimes overwhelming, but always incredibly satisfying.
The energy transfer thing happened each time, though never quite as dramatically as that first night.
What I hadn’t expected was how comfortable we’d become with each other outside the bedroom. We developed routines—morning coffee together, walks in the park, evenings spent watching movies or just talking. Deus was a fountain of historical anecdotes, most of which were too outrageous to be made up.
“You did not party with Oscar Wilde,” I said incredulously one evening as we shared takeout on the couch.
“I absolutely did,” Deus insisted, stealing a piece of chicken from my container. “Lovely man, terrible at holding his absinthe. The stories I could tell you about what happened after he passed out…”
“I’m not sure I want to know,” I laughed.
Deus’s phone (which he’d acquired from somewhere, refusing to tell me how) chimed with a notification. He checked it, his expression darkening briefly before he schooled it back to neutrality.
“Everything okay?” I asked, noticing the change.
“Fine,” he said, too quickly. “Just some… work stuff.”
“Demon work?” I raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were on assignment here.”
“I am. But there’s still… administrative things.” He put the phone away, clearly wanting to change the subject. “How did your interview go today?”
I let him redirect the conversation, too content with our evening to push. “I think it went well. The bookstore owner seemed to like me, and the hours are better than the coffee shop.”
“Beans & Books’ loss is…” he paused, “what’s this place called again?”
“Page Turner,” I supplied. “And I haven’t gotten the job yet, so don’t jinx it.”
“You’ll get it,” he said with confidence. “If not, I can always pay a visit to the owner. A little demonic persuasion goes a long way.”
“No demonic persuasion,” I said firmly. “I want to get the job on my own merits.”
“Your merits are excellent,” Deus said, his tone suddenly suggestive as he set aside his takeout container. “Speaking of which…”
He moved closer on the couch, his intent clear in his glowing eyes. I laughed but didn’t resist as he pulled me into his lap, his hands already sliding under my shirt.
“Again?” I teased. “Didn’t we just ‘release your energy’ this morning?”
“What can I say?” His lips found my neck, sending shivers down my spine. “You inspire me.”
Later, as we lay tangled together on the couch, pleasantly exhausted, I found myself thinking about how quickly this had become normal. Having a demon in my apartment, in my bed, in my life—it should have been terrifying, but instead it felt… right. Like he belonged here. With me.
That’s dangerous thinking, a small voice in my head warned. He’s not human. This isn’t permanent. Eventually, he’ll complete his “favor” and leave.
The thought sent an unexpected pang through my chest. I pushed it away, focusing instead on the pleasant weight of Deus’s arm across my waist, the steady sound of his breathing.
Just enjoy it while it lasts, I told myself. Don’t get attached.
But as Deus pulled me closer in his sleep, his face peaceful in a way it never was when he was awake, I had a sinking feeling it was already too late for that.