Page 19 of Summoning Mr. Wrong (Hotter than Hell #1)

Brunch the next day was at a café near my parents’ hotel. Deus once again played his role perfectly, charming the waitress, making my mother laugh, and engaging my father in discussions of ancient burial practices that were probably more accurate than any academic paper ever written.

When it was time for my parents to leave, my mother hugged me tightly, then surprised Deus by hugging him as well.

“Take care of each other,” she said, giving me a meaningful look that I studiously ignored.

My father shook Deus’s hand with considerably more warmth than he had initially. “Good to meet you, Deus. Perhaps you could send me some of your research on Mesopotamian religious practices? I’m always looking for fresh perspectives for my classes.”

Deus promised to email him some materials, a commitment that would require some creative forgery given that he didn’t actually have any academic papers to share.

As we watched my parents’ car pull away, Deus’s hand found mine, fingers intertwining casually.

“That went well,” he observed. “Your parents are good people.”

“They liked you,” I said, still somewhat amazed by how smoothly everything had gone. “My dad doesn’t warm up to people easily, but he practically invited you to guest lecture.”

Deus grinned. “I could teach his entire curriculum from firsthand experience. Might raise some eyebrows though.”

We walked back to the apartment hand in hand, enjoying the spring sunshine and the simple pleasure of being together without pretense. For a brief, wonderful moment, it felt like we were just a normal couple enjoying a Sunday afternoon.

Reality reasserted itself when we reached the apartment and Deus immediately kicked off his shoes, his horns emerging as he released the glamour he’d maintained all weekend.

“Thank every realm that’s over,” he groaned, rolling his shoulders like he was working out kinks. “Being human is exhausting.”

“You were amazing,” I said again, because it needed repeating. “Oscar-worthy performance.”

“I wasn’t entirely acting,” he said, catching my hand and pulling me closer. “Especially the part about you being special to me.”

My heart did that stuttering thing again. “Deus…”

“I know, I know. Temporary arrangement, contract eventually fulfilled, blah blah blah.” He waved dismissively. “But that doesn’t change how I feel now.”

Before I could respond, his phone chimed with a notification. He checked it, his expression instantly hardening.

“What is it?” I asked, noticing the change.

“Nothing important,” he said, too quickly. “Administrative stuff.”

But his tattoos were moving more rapidly, a sure sign he was upset. And it wasn’t the first time he’d received a message that changed his mood.

“Deus,” I said firmly, “what’s going on? You keep getting these messages that clearly bother you, but you won’t tell me what they’re about.”

He hesitated, clearly debating how much to share. “It’s… complicated.”

“Try me,” I challenged. “I summoned a demon by accident and now we’re sleeping together. I think I can handle complicated.”

He ran a hand through his hair, a surprisingly human gesture of frustration. “It’s about the contract. The favor.”

My stomach tightened. “What about it?”

“There’s a… deadline.” He wouldn’t meet my eyes. “All contracts have them, though they’re usually much longer. Centuries, sometimes.”

“And ours?” I asked, already dreading the answer.

“Three months from the summoning,” he said quietly. “Which means I have about two weeks left to fulfill the favor.”

The room seemed to tilt slightly. “Two weeks? And then what?”

“And then I go back,” he said simply. “Whether the favor is completed or not.”

“What happens if you don’t complete it?” I asked, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

His expression darkened. “Nothing good. For either of us.”

“Can’t you just… I don’t know, fake it? Say you completed it even if you didn’t?”

He shook his head. “Doesn’t work that way. The magic of the contract knows. It’s why I’ve been getting messages—reminders of the deadline, warnings about the consequences of failure.”

I sank onto the couch, trying to process this new information. Two weeks. After that, Deus would be gone, back to his realm, out of my life. The thought created a hollow feeling in my chest that I wasn’t prepared for.

“So we need to figure out what the favor is,” I said, trying to focus on solutions rather than the impending loss. “Fast.”

Deus sat beside me, his usual confidence dimmed. “I’ve been trying. I thought at first it was simple—help you with money, your job situation. But that doesn’t feel… significant enough for a demonic contract.”

“What about…” I hesitated, embarrassed by the direction of my thoughts. “The sex? Energy transfer stuff?”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Enjoyable, but no. That’s just a bonus.”

“Then what?” I threw up my hands in frustration. “What could I possibly need from a demon that would require a magical contract?”

Deus was quiet for a moment, studying me with those glowing eyes. “I have a theory,” he said finally. “But you’re not going to like it.”

“Try me.”

“I think,” he said carefully, “the favor has nothing to do with practical help or supernatural assistance. I think it’s about your heart.”

I blinked. “My… heart?”

“The ritual you performed—it wasn’t just about material abundance. The words you used, the intent behind them… you were asking for fulfillment. Completion.”

“I was asking for rent money,” I protested weakly.

“On the surface, yes. But rituals tap into deeper desires, the ones we often don’t acknowledge even to ourselves.” His eyes softened. “What did you really want, Julian? Before I appeared?”

I thought back to that night, sitting alone in my tiny apartment, desperate and lonely. The rent money had been the immediate concern, but underneath…

“Connection,” I admitted quietly. “I wanted to feel like I mattered to someone. Like I wasn’t just… drifting through life alone.”

Deus nodded, as if confirming something he’d suspected. “That’s why I was sent. Not for money or career advice. For this.” He gestured between us. “To show you that you’re worthy of love. That you matter.”

“Love?” I repeated, the word catching in my throat. “Are you saying…”

“I’m saying,” he interrupted gently, “that demons aren’t supposed to fall in love with humans. It’s not in the contract. It’s not in any contract. But here we are.”

The admission hung in the air between us, momentous and terrifying. Deus—a demon, an immortal being who had witnessed the rise and fall of civilizations—was telling me he loved me.

“But if that’s the favor,” I said slowly, trying to make sense of it all, “then wouldn’t it be completed now? You’ve shown me I matter, that I’m… lovable.” The word felt strange on my tongue.

“I don’t think it’s that simple,” Deus said. “I think you need to believe it. Not just intellectually, but in your heart. And I’m not sure you do yet.”

He was right, and the realization was painful. Despite everything—the care he’d shown me, the connection we’d formed—part of me was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. For him to leave, like everyone eventually did.

“So what do we do?” I asked, hating how small my voice sounded.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, taking my hand. “But we have two weeks to figure it out.”

Two weeks to solve a supernatural riddle involving my own heart. No pressure.

“Maybe we should test your theory,” I suggested, an idea forming. “If the favor is about me accepting love, feeling worthy of it, then we should… lean into that. Really be together, not just as roommates or friends with benefits, but as a couple.”

Deus’s eyebrows rose. “You want to date me? Officially?”

“Yes,” I said, surprising myself with my certainty. “Let’s go all in for these two weeks. No holding back, no pretending this is just temporary or casual. Let’s see if that completes the favor.”

A slow smile spread across his face, genuine and bright. “Julian Moore, are you asking me to be your boyfriend?”

“Yes,” I said, returning his smile despite the gravity of the situation. “Asmodeus, demon of lust and terrible roommate habits, will you be my boyfriend for the next two weeks and possibly save us both from mysterious magical consequences?”

He laughed, pulling me into his arms. “When you put it like that, how could I refuse?”

His kiss was different somehow—more tender, more deliberate, as if trying to communicate everything he couldn’t say in words. I returned it with equal fervor, trying to push aside the countdown clock ticking in my mind.

Two weeks. It wasn’t much time, but it would have to be enough.

As we moved to the bedroom, clothes discarded along the way, I couldn’t help wondering if this was just postponing the inevitable.

But when Deus laid me down on the bed, looking at me with those impossible amber eyes full of something that looked remarkably like love, I decided that even if it was temporary, it was worth it.

Some things were worth the pain of losing them.