Page 2 of Delivered to My Demons

If I had a fated mate or mates out there, I wish they would reach out and find me.

Chapter Two

Hemlock

We are not shifters. Not precisely, but we do have two forms. And in many other ways, we are similar to those who become wolves or cats or bears. Like the hierarchies within our families or “legions” as some prefer to call themselves. Shifters have alphas, we have commanders, and they have a tendency to take themselves very seriously.

Which was why we’d moved all around the country to make a new life for ourselves when we reached adulthood. Our fathers were not pleased, to put it mildly, but we didn’t ask permission. We told ourselves that they would get over it, someday, and went about having adventures until we got so homesick we landed right back where we started. We became blacksmiths and settled in to be part of the legion again.

But the similarity between our groups that was upmost in Grendel’s and my minds was the yearning for a mate. While many people thought we were evil or undeserving of happiness, Fate did not entirely abandon us. At least some among us could hope for a fated mate—and the others might find some companion to walk through life with.

We do not smell like sulfur or haunt people—more urban legends. Beyond a little mischief, all the stories are lies. In fact, a good-natured prank led to how we chose our current profession. Horses, in more of those urban legends, hated demons, but not in our case.

Or any case that I knew of.

Grendel and I had been friends for so long it just made sense to go into business together, and to share a house. We enjoyed the same things—he loved to cook and I loved to eat—and wegot along well. Neither of us wanted to be legion hierarchy; there were plenty of others who did.

If we could just find a mate, one who would love us both, life would be pretty perfect.

Chapter Three

Poe

I needed a vacation. Most people thought my life was so easy. Sit around and talk to supernatural creatures, have fun, and live the easy life. The life of a creator was the most hectic of them all, I’d learned. I worked for myself which meant, at the end of the day, and when the bills were due, that I was solely responsible for the money that came in and out of my business. I had bills to pay. Advertising to marketing and everything between, all those things were on my mind—all the time.

The last week, I spent three straight days interviewing two shifters and an orc. The orc refused to come in person even though I offered to pay her expenses and instead gave us an interview online. Either was fine by me, and I certainly understood that some creatures’ visibility had to be different than others. A man who shifted into a werewolf was generally more accepted than a green monster with tusks for some reason.

But that’s why I did my podcast. I wanted these creatures and monsters to step into the light. Let the humans hear and see that they weren’t the things that went bump in the night. If they wanted some scary stories, they had better go find a crime podcast because 90 percent of the time, the people I met and spoke with were kind and gentle, wanting peace and happiness like the rest of us.

It was time for me to relax for once.

I’d earned every minute.

A notification went off on my tablet. “Goddess. Already? I didn’t even make it into the front door, guys.”

I didn’t check the email until I had a sip of my homemade iced coffee down my throat.

Once I did, I was shocked to see it wasn’t from anyone I’d reached out to for an episode. The email was from someone at the Mail-Order Mating app customer service.

Shit, were they kicking me out? That was my first thought since it had been six solid months since I’d had a match.

Six months.

I knew for a fact that others found their mate or mates, moved in with them, and gotten pregnant in that span of time. Me? Yeah, I hadn’t really had a solid conversation with someone before I ended it.

Sure, I could get out and date another wolf. Find one that may or may not want to create a happy life with me but, deep down in my gut, I believed in Fate. There had to be a reason I was so damned fascinated with all things preternatural. There was simply no way I yearned for more knowledge about species and beings other than mine and not somehow have one in my life.

I shrugged with my finger poised over the email. Maybe I was destined to be friends with Lazar and that was the end of my dealings with them.

I opened the email, still expecting the worst, but when I read it, I almost laughed.

The representative reached out in an effort to help me. They said they thought my scope of requirements might be too broad, causing the algorithm to have trouble finding the right person. They suggested I add more preferences. Slim down some of my species likes and dislikes.

Did they really think that would help?

I supposed it would. When I first signed up, I was pretty general in my desires. Now, I knew better. I ruled out vampires. Lazar wasn’t in the cards for me. I had a weak moment even thinking he could be my friend.

“You know what, Mr. Customer Service I Wasn’t Specific Enough? How’s this for specific?” I deleted all my preferences except for wanting a male or males. I would not be a breeder. I didn’t want a loveless mating for show. No humans because why in the hell would I join this app to be mated with a human? And species? Shifters had left a sour taste in my mouth.

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