Page 172 of Monsters in Love: Lost in the Underworld

Hayden

“I didn’t.”I could die of embarrassment. Although the death part isn’t as funny with a literal reaper carrying me when I’m finally able to touch him, to feelhim the same as though my fantasies have become reality. But still? I saidthatin front of an actual demon prince?

“You most certainly did.”

This is a thousand times worse than Good Time Glenda finding my latest monster smut art.

Deflect! I can’t dwell on my mortification, or I’ll become an awkward, rambling mess.

Instead, I say, “Let’s get back to why you needed to build a protection ward, which oh my god, I’ve never seen a real one. Or maybe how you think me signing a demon contract was your fault?”

He moves to put me down, and I hate the separation. I tighten my hold on him, forcing him not to let go, and I’m rewarded by the deep violet thrum of the magical core he once told me sits at the heart of his shadows. I’m guessing by his reaction that he likes me snuggling close and being a needy girlfriend.

Good, because I’m about to be the clingiest boo ever if he thinks I’m going to stay in the van while he wages war against those ghost beasties inside the house.

Although he could leave the dog with me. Preferably the one-headed, fluffy version, but the other could be cute in his own weird way.

“I set the wards before I left because the revenants are attracted to human souls,” he says, tackling what I imagine to be the easier of the questions first. “They would drive you and any other human they touch insane and suicidal within moments.”

“Okay, that’s bad.” A thousand questions about them circle in my mind, but I put a pin in those for now. “And the contract?”

He doesn’t wear his magical skull mask so I can see his face, but with the shadows and the hood, he’s hard to read. His eyes have no pupils so I have to judge by the shade of magic shining through the openings in his shadows. Luckily, he doesn’t flash his mouth full of fangs. So at least he’s not pissed, just annoyed.

Fine, he can be annoyed.

I distract myself from the discomfort of studying him like he’s an architectural masterpiece by wrapping his arms—does he call them arms? Because they feel like arms.—around me and waiting not so patiently until he answers. Other than his shadowy cloak and hood, my reaper rocks the look of Slender Man’s tentacle action with hints of the broad shoulders and a solid chest I’ve felt in my dreams. Those shadows aren’t wisps. They’re solid beneath my fingers, and I can’t stop touching him. No matter how alphaholewithholding of informationhe’s acting.

“First,” he says, “you have to promise not to step outside the wards without me, and you cannot under any circumstances go inside the house.”

“Nuh uh, you don’t get to avoid the question, and I’m getting inside that house because whatever else was in the demon’s bargain, I agreed to give him its history within the next month.”

“There is no human history to the construction of this house. Or at least not one that isn’t woven with magic.”

“Damnit, I don’t even know how to process what you just said except that demon bastard still better pay up to the charity.”

“Oh, he will. I’ll make sure of that.”

“The contract? The whole luring thing?” When his magical heart fades to lavender-grey, I add, “Oh no, those wereyourwords. I’m just repeating them back to you.” When he stays quiet, I soften my tone. “Don’t I deserve an explanation for why I’m here? Howyou’rehere?”

“Remember when I told you we are fated mates?”

“Like in romance novels.” I can’t help but think of my latest drawing of him. “I remember.”

“We are destined to be together. Theodopolis is a matchmaker—thebestmatchmaker. He confirmed we’re fated mates and agreed to have you enter into a matching contract if I would clear the house of the revenants. I should have been here when you woke this morning.”

Oookay, so I have to ask one more question before we get back to the demon thing. “Where did you go?” Because honestly, why’d he leave me on his very first day of us being able to be together?

“I was tracking down the remaining lairs of the necromancer who created the revenants.”

I can’t argue with him trying to save the world from creatures who can drive humans insane and ultimately lead to terrifying deaths.

He keeps going. “If I can cut off their creation, then I will limit them to the ones already trapped inside the house or with a direct connection to it. It’s the only way I’ll be able to rend them all in a month.”

“Rend?” What was it Good Time Glenda said before she vanished? “Render?”

“Yes.” At my confused look, he continues, “I thought I’d told you.”

“Nope, can safely say you’ve never used that word around me.” Or I would’ve recognized it before my ghost friend disappeared.

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