Page 191 of Evil Hearts

“It is that I do,” I say simply, licking my lips. The moisture of saliva is strange to feel on the sensitive skin. Hunger, desire to feast, all things I have tried for so many years to repress, are suddenly in my lap.

“Right, um...is there anything you can do about the grumble?” he asks, looking over at Vladimir, who is growling at some technicians as they adjust the filters that sit over the giant lights. “I think our host might get angry if it interrupts.”

“Why should I care how he feels?” One shoulder lifts as I shrug.

“He could take it out on her.” Leander points toward the wall. Zenith and her pretty pure soul. The delightful little ball of light bounces as if it senses that we’re giving it attention.

The muscles in my cheeks spasm, and I force my mouth into a harsh frown.

“He would cease to exist before I let him harm her.”

“Don’t even worry about it, Leander. This one here is sorta the biggest hotshot around...well, unless I butt dialed my boss to get him here.” The demon snickers and leans over toward me.

“Even hungry, you’re powerful. I know that, and I respect it, but I sure as shit don’t fear you.”

“Good,” I murmur. “I don’t think that she would like for either of you to fear me.”

“Smart of you to think about what she might want and not our necks,” Leander says, though he casts his eyes quickly to the wall, clearly hoping against hope that she can’t hear him inthis moment. The soul in his chest bobs higher, nearly into his throat, and glows a soft pearlescent shade.

“Immortal souls are always the tricky ones.” I lift a hand and trace the outline of it in the air, ghosting over the mothman who flinches away slightly.

“Alright, please stop being so creepy.” He sniffs.

“It’s in his nature,” Dante chuckles.

“Look as alive as you can!” Vladimir says, stepping onto the stage to point at various staff. “We are going back on air in three...two...one!” He swoops over to the side of the wall where Zenith is, where I can see the blackness of his soul trying to snuff out her light.

My nostrils flare as I fold my hands together in my lap.

Perhaps when this is all over, I will have a meal.

The Questions pt. 2

Zenith

“Welcome back toDates of the Damned! We are back with the human Zenith Calasso, daughter of a feared human mafia don, about to ask her last question to her suitors. Zenith, take it away.” He sweeps his arm out in a grand gesture that sends his billowing cape right into my face.

I sputter and shove it away, something that I hope is dust spraying out of the fabric as it swishes. Fixing my loose curls, I smile into the camera, trying to get my mind to just remember what I was going to say, something better than ‘share me, thoughts?’ to be sure. A trilling little giggle falls from my lips, and my eyes flick to the wall separating me from the monsters who presumably want to date me.

“Last question, right. Guess I better make it a good one, huh?” I ask, looking at Vlad, trying to buy myself some time with those famous show-host mini-monologues or whatever. At least a quip might save me from choking on my tongue.

Vlad just looks at me, his dark eyes almost bored with my antics. He simply arches a sparse brow and waves his hand in another ‘go on’ motion.

“Would you be willing to share me?!”

The words come out more like an accusation than a question as I launch it at the wall, at the people behind that wall who maybe, possibly, want me. Jesus, I’m so much cooler than this when I don’t have an ancient dude relying on me for views.

“No need to yell, doll. We can hear you plenty fine.” Mr. Southern says, his voice like a balm to my frayed nerves. “I am all about sharing; the more the merrier, in my opinion. I’m a verysexualbeing.”

Him saying that word should be illegal. I think the temperature of the studio raises five degrees from how hot he has my blood burning. Biting into my bottom lip, I can’t help but try to conjure up an image of what this guy might look like; he’s older, for sure, in a silver fox way, and he has some nice shoulders, good for holding while he plows me into the bed.

“For you, there is no want that is too great,” Transylvanian accent says.

The words are like cold water dumped over my head, but it weirdly sends all that warmth from my pussy to my heart. This monster is sweet. Even if he doesn’t actually know me, he is blowing human men out of the water.

“It would be an honor to share you. If you chose any of us, I know we will all do our best to be what you need, and hopefully you could be what we need...well, not collectively…unless that’s what you want,” the final monster answers, the nerves in his voice setting me at ease.

At least I’m not the only one who shoves their foot into their dang throat.

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