Page 1 of Unleashing Chaos

One

DESI

A demon in the human realm is bound to cause mischief, but a demon princess house hunting with her voracious big brother and his equally snackish husband . . . well, that’s pure chaos. And it isn’t mayhem for the reasons you might think. I have standards. High standards. Ones that demand a great view, fashionable furnishings, and stainless-steel appliances.

I need a house that screams I’ve got my shit together and you want to date me! Seven houses in and I haven’t found one that even slightly meets my expectations.

“At this rate, you’re going to waste all your time visiting every rental in Denver,” Mandis says as we walk down the steps of a brownstone.

“I can’t help that I’m not willing to compromise my standards and settle for something less than ideal,” I say, kicking a rock down the sidewalk as we make our way through the neighborhood and toward the closest bus stop.

“What was wrong with that one?” Glen asks, sliding his muscular frame between me and my brother and linking his bulky arm with his husband’s.

“It just didn’t have everything I was looking for,” I hedge, not meeting my brother-in-law’s hazel gaze.

“What was the problem? What was it missing?” Mandis asks and raises an eyebrow, awaiting my answer. I sigh and let my head fall back to stare at the late afternoon sky, my wild red curls cascading down my back. “The white appliances were ugly, okay?”

Mandis and Glen let out groans in unison. “Desi. You’ve made everything about this so diff—”

I hold up my hand, stopping Mandis from saying the same words he said after touring the last two rentals. “Please. Don’t start. I didn’t think it was too much to ask for a nice, modern house where it snows, but where it is currently autumn. I want to wear sweaters and scarves and drink those pumpkin coffees somewhere I feel comfortable.”

“You want to be a basic white bitch,” Glen adds, biting into an ice-cream cone with his pointy front teeth. An ice-cream cone he didn’t have in his hand a minute ago.

I pull on the back of his shirt, making the buttons strain against his broad chest, bringing him to a stop.

“Where did you get that?” My gaze darts to my brother. “You didn’t conjure that for him, did you? You know what Dad said about using your gift while we’re here. You could ruin everything.”

Mandis runs his hand down his neatly trimmed red beard and rolls his eyes. “Calm down, I didn’t conjure it for him. Although I wish I had. Look how handsome he is feasting. My gluttonous little demon. The only thing that would look better in his mouth is my c—”

“Then where did it come from?” I demand, stopping my brother from steering this conversation to their notorious sex life.

“I took it from the freezer you so vehemently hated in that house,” Glen says with a proud smile.

“You stole it?”

“I was hungry.”

Panic surges through me. I glance back at the town house, and yank both demons into a brisk stride. My knowledge of humans is limited to the four family vacations we took in this realm when I was younger and human movies and TV shows, but I know they don’t like when someone takes what doesn’t belong to them. The human authorities put thieves in ugly orange jumpsuits and make them sleep in bunk beds. Neither of which fits the aesthetic I’m going for, not to mention that orange clashes horrifically with my hair.

“Give me that,” I say, using my gift to yank the cone from Glen’s hand and float it into mine.

“Good job keeping a damper on your power,” Mandis grumbles, narrowing his bright-green eyes at me. “Next thing you know, you’ll be telling every human that angels and demons live among them.”

I shoot my brother the kind of glare that could kill. Of course I wouldn’t confirm anything about our existence with a human. I’m no glutton for punishment; our father would never let me hear the end of it.

To spite Mandis, I shove half the ice cream into my mouth. A jolt of cold pain pierces my brain, followed by pure regret. I groan and press the heel of my free hand to my forehead.

“That’s what you get for taking from my sweet peach,” Mandis says with a cocky grin.

“Shut up, Gourmandise,” I hiss.

Glen pats my back and slips the rest of the cone from my hand. “It’s okay, Desi. I forgive you. That bite was impressive.”

Glen feeds Mandis a bite of ice cream, who closes his eyes as if he is experiencing the height of bliss. That isn’t surprising; overindulging is euphoric for him. He swallows before saying, “Don’t call me that heinous name.”

Our parents were . . . creative when choosing names for me and my six older brothers, and arguably, Mandis, prince of Gluttony, got the short end of the stick on that deal, since Mom had been obsessed with all things French in the human realm when he was born. I love using it against him. The flush that crawls up his face gives me the best kind of sisterly satisfaction.

“Now, now, Your Highnesses, no more arguing. Let’s keep moving and find Desi the perfect bachelorette pad, yeah?” Glen interrupts, literally and figuratively steering us both back on track.

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