Page 188 of Evil Hearts

My face flushes. My daddy is a dangerous man but not anevilperson.

“I mean, I’m excited for—” My words get stuck in my throat as a live studio audience of monsters begins to flood in behind the host. The bleacher-like stands alongside the back of the studio fill up in seconds. Tentacles, fur, shadows, and wings all blend together behind the glare of the studio lights in my eyes.

He whips away from me, turning to the monsters as they flow in like a sea of fucking weird. All manner of folk flow in, the likes of which I’ve never seen before, and take their seats.

“Welcome, one and all, toDates of the Damned. I’m Vladimir Van Deltras, and I’ll be your host. We will begin shortly. Take your seats andbe silent.” He grins and flashes a mouth filled with dagger-sharp fangs at the audience.

Silence falls as quickly as Aunt Gina downs a pitcher of mimosas.

“Wonderful,” Vladimir croons, turning back to me, those sharp fangs still on display. “We will begin shortly. Don’t move a muscle.”

My foot cramps due to how not moved my muscles are. I hiss from the pain, finally letting myself shift my foot from the little ledge at the bottom of the stool to the floor. The chunky platform heel making a satisfyingthunkthat is perfectly timed to when the overhead lights flick on, blinding me.

“Jesus!” I squeak, nearly slapping myself as I bring my hands up to shield my eyes.

“Put your hands down, look at a spot in the distance, and you’ll get used to it. We need lights bright enough to put some life into our less than alive contestants,” Vladimir says with a wave of his hand at my face.

Squinting, I put my hands down and force a smile.

“Less than alive? Like, as in a corpse?” I ask.

“Only one of your suitors has some...less than alive qualities. If that is a deal breaker for you, then perhaps this show isn’t for you. Would you like to break your contract?” he asks, all of those teeth coming into view again.

“Nooo!” The word comes out a little sing-songy. I wipe my sweating hands on my skirt, trying to smooth it down my legs. “No big deal. I’m totally into necrophilia.” The laugh that yanks itself from my soul is light and tittering.

Fuck. Me. Did I really just say that?

“I do hope you don’t mind. We’ve got that on camera.” He chuckles, stepping back to where the cameras are being manned by more monsters. The vampire’s eyes flick to the other side of the stage, cut off from my view by a wall as tall as the ceiling. “Fantastic. Take your seats gentleman, monsters, and various lords of darkness.”

Shuffling,terribly ominous shuffling, from the other side of the wall pulls another giggle out of me.

“She sounds pretty cute,” someone with a deep voice lashed through with a southern twang stage whispers from the other side of the wall.

A small smile tugs at the corners of my lips. Humor. If they’ve got a sense of humor, then I can do this, even if one of them is a sorta dead guy.

“Excellent, thank you all for participating in the inaugural episode ofDates of the Damned. I am your host, Vladimir Van Deltras, and if you’re settled, we can begin with our lovely human asking her questions.”

He gestures for me to go on with a roll of his wrist.

“Hi.” The word squeaks out, and my cheeks heat. I shift in my seat, trying to get my heart to stop trying to climb out of my mouth or ass or both. “My name is Zenith, and I guess I should be asking questions now?”

“Suppose so, darlin’,” that same voice calls out.

A sign I can barely see is lifted. On cue, the entire audience laughs for a heartbeat before the sign is lowered and it stops.

“What is your ideal date?” I try to play it cool, to just let the words roll out of me, but I really want to get out of these damn lights. I’m starting to sweat through my sweater, and it’s making my lubed up boobs even shinier. The last thing I want to do is make humanity appear like some overly sexed up, shiny, giggling airheads. Even if I am a little bit of an airhead.

Vlad sweeps back onto the stage, disappearing behind the wall, microphone in hand.

“Ideal date,” another voice, this one smoother but no less rich, begins. I find myself thinking, this is what liquid velvet would be like. “I would have to say to a café. I’m a big coffee drinker and book reader, so something very low key. That would be my ideal date.”

Feedback crackles through the speakers for a moment as the microphone is grabbed harshly.

“Somewhere nice, of course, but maybe also somewhere that will push us both out of our comfort zones. Ever been to a strip club?” The rumbling chuckle that follows makes goosebumps rise all over my skin.

The return question makes me jump a little, and I bite my lip, shaking my head. Sure, he can’t see it, but I doubt they actually want me to answer him out loud. This is for the cameras. Once again, the laugh cue card goes up, the room swells with sound, and it’s over just as quickly.

“And now for our last contestant,” Vlad says, and the entire audience holds their collective breath. The room is so silent that my heartbeat intensifies in my ears and makes my head a little spinny. All that damn air, I guess.

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