Page 192 of Evil Hearts

I smile softly, looking down into my lap where my hands have been fisted since this whole thing started. Sharing is a go, should I want it.

“Giving a girl a lot of options,” I joke, trying to soothe him and myself.

“You deserve it, Zenith. You sound very sweet,” the last contestant says.

Vladimir clears his throat with a shake of his head, like he’s done indulging children in their crushes, and gestures to me again. “Everyone, give it up for Zenith Calasso, our first and certainly not final human contestant onDates of the Damned. Now, Zenith, choose which one or combination of monsters you would like to go on a date with.”

The relief of this experience almost being over nearly turns me to soup. I give the wall a glance, trying to send reassuring vibes to the other side.

“All of them. I want to date all those monsters,” I say, confidence making me finally look up.

The audience is on their feet, and the fishlike intern is on the stage, standing beside the wall, hand poised as if to push something. A big, shiny red button that I so did not see before, to be exact.

“Great! Show Zenith her damned dates!”

The wall that I thought was immovable shoots up with a soft click of that big red button, showing me the three monsters on the other side.

The closest to me: a bug man dressed like a professor.

The next: a skinny emo guy with hair that would make more sense on an ancient wizard then a guy barely pushing thirty.

The last is a mostly normal guy, salt and pepper hair, a handsome face with a dominant nose, and a dadbod that makes me a little melty....all of that on a guy who is red with horns.

Not normal but certainly hot.

I lift my hand and give a little finger wave, a tentative smile on my face.

The demon smiles and stands, his tail whipping behind him like a pleased cat. “I call first date.”

Date One

Dante

What the fuckis wrong with me?

I haven’t gone on a date in...ever. Ok, that’s dramatic, but it’s been a good century or two since I’vecaredabout a date I’m taking someone on.

What the fuck am I really going to do to impress this woman? This lovely, soft, and absolutely stunning human woman whose soul was far too damn good to be anywhere near the blackhole in my chest.

Gods damn it.

I have the urge to grab the nearest breakable object, which happens to be a glass on the table beside ours, but manage to keep my cool by digging my claws into my thigh. These damn jeans are ripped halfway to hell anyway, so a few more tears will just be a cool added effect or somethin’.

Zenith is wearing a black, strappy dress that presses like delicate fingers into her soft flesh. I want to rip it off and press my mouth to all the curves it reveals. I damn near swallowed my tongue when she walked in, dressed to put the Prince of Lust to shame.

“What exactly do you do?” she asks, her voice all soft and sweetly innocent.

Do not get hard. Do. Not. Get. Hard!

“I’m mostly a deal-making demon. Talk to those who are already on their way to the bad place and offer them a little something to smooth the way down. It helps when we get souls who are more cooperative in the pit.”

“So you reward the bad guys?” she questions, a dark brow arching elegantly. The little smile tugging at her lips making me bite into my own.

“Gotta do whatcha’ gotta do. Makes the job a lot easier for those who are assigned to torture. They have a lot more ammo to use against them for an eternity of getting mentally fucked.”

I snatch up my glass of whiskey and down it, needing a moment where she can’t expect me to answer anything else about hell. It used to be a big no-no to tell a mortal about it, any kind of mortal, because anything with a soul can end up there. But this is Zenith; this is my supposed person. She could ask me anything and I’d roll out the red carpet to get her the damn answer. Just being near her makes everything I’ve spent centuries building walls around crumble quicker than a wet saltine cracker.

“I see. That sounds...interesting,” she says, lifting her own glass, with some sort of diet soda, and taking a little sip. She stares into the dark carbonated liquid before her pretty eyes flick to me. “What makes you happy?”

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