Page 140 of Monsters in Love: Lost in the Underworld

Lilah

“You are unusually reserved today,”Dr. Daemon says after Atlas, a literal giant, leaves the exam room with his tiny, four-month-old kitten.

“You’re basing ‘today’ off of one appointment? The clinic has only been open for thirty minutes. And I was not reserved. I was perfectly friendly. Fully professional.”

“Exactly my point. You are customarily warm, compassionate, and demonstrative. Yet you barely scratched behind that kitten’s ears. You did not once tell it that it is cute.”

He’s right, but I confess to nothing. My demon boss already has more confidence than any creature I’ve ever met. I’m not saying a word to inflate that dark-mahogany head of his.

Drilling me with his patient but expectant stare, the large demon crosses his arms over his chest while leaning against the exam table.

“Scoot,” I say, shooing him away with one hand. “You’re in the way of my disinfecting.”

His deep laugh rumbles, the action causing his broad chest to expand to the point of stretching his scrub shirt taut. The town veterinarian is widely appreciated by the females in Fate’s Falls. He’s considered a catch among the single crowd, and there’s no denying he’s attractive.

But he’s not the one for me. I only have eyes for one demon, for one man of any species.

Daemon moves as directed, but not before taking a whiff of me. It’s his thing. It weirded me out the first few months I worked for him, but once I got used to it, to him, his sniffing habit became kind of handy. My menstrual cycle has always been unpredictable, but I haven’t been caught off-guard by a period since working here. Is it strange to have your demon boss tell you exactly when Aunt Flo is due to arrive? Yep. But he’s never been wrong, and I’ve ruined a lot less underwear because of it.

I don’t bother asking what his sniffer tells him about me. If he feels it’s worthy of note, he’ll tell me, whether I want to hear itor not. And there have plenty of times when his comments have fallen in the would-rather-not-have-heard category.

“Have I ever told you that human emotional states produce distinct odors?”

“Odors?” I roll my eyes at him. “You couldn’t use a nicer word thanodors?”

“Humans are so sensitive. Odor, scent, aroma, fragrance, musk, bouquet?—”

“Yes, bouquet. From now on, whenever you do your sniff test on me, I would like you to refer to what you detect as mybouquet.”

“Ah, there you are, my spirited assistant. Welcome back. As for yourbouquetthis morning, it reeks of frustration.”

“Reeks,Daemon?” I shake my head while heading for the second door of the exam room, the one that leads to our treatment area rather than the waiting room. “I hope you fall in love with a human woman one day, because she’ll slap you so hard if you use words like ‘odor’ and ‘reeks’ with her.”

“I quite enjoy being slapped.”

“Of course you do,” I say, snorting and shaking my head.

“And demons do not fall in love.”

My stomach clenches, then plummets. I resist wrapping my arms around my middle, but maintaining an indifferent posture isn’t adequate to hide my internal reaction to the statement. Not around my boss and his heightened olfactory senses.

“Ah, now I understand,” he says, after drawing another whiff. “Your sullen demeanor and frustration are in regard to thedemon with whom you have been infatuated for twenty-seven months now.”

The urge to challenge him about the length of time I’ve been pining for the demon bakery owner is strong. I only resist because I know it’ll bite me in the ass. Daemon will change the months to days, possibly even minutes. Damn his demon senses to hell. Though, I suppose that’s where they came from.

“Your silence is almost as gratifying as the scent of acquiescence.” His sharp features pull into what, for a demon, is a good-natured grin. “The question is, what are you going to do about it, aside from buying pastries three times a day?”

“Nothing,” I say, fiddling with supplies which don’t require further organization. Since we have a few minutes before our next appointment, and because it’s pointless to deny anything around my annoying and equally well-meaning employer, I sigh and meet his glowing-eyed gaze. “I made a comment yesterday that wasn’t meant to be a personal compliment, but then followed up by saying it could be taken as one, and Amazra’s response was to zone out of the conversation. He’s clearly not interested in me in that way.”

Dr. Daemon’s brow line rises. “If that is how ‘clearly’ you communicated your desire to Amazra, it is unsurprising he did not return your interest. Demons are pragmatic creatures. If you truly wish to engage in a physical relationship with one, be direct.”

“And have himdirectlyreject me? Um, no thanks to that. I’d never live it down.”

“If he were to decline, it would not be meant as a slight, Lilah. Demons are not cursed with the depth and intensity of emotionsthat cause humans so much inner turmoil. Any rejection would simply be a lack of physical attraction. He would not dwell on the interaction, nor should you.”

Easier said than done. As much as I’ve fantasized about being naked and thoroughly, physically entangled with Amazra, I want more. Ifeelmore.

But if Daemon is correct, and demons don’t experience love the way humans do, I’d only be making things worse for myself by initiating a sexual relationship with Amazra. That’sifhe was interested. Which I’m still not convinced would be the case, even though he is sweet and thoughtful toward me on a daily basis. That’s just him being a good business owner.

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