Page 297 of Evil Hearts

For Monstress’ sakes, they’ve named him theMonster Fucker. He better know what the hell he’s doing.

We pause in front of a sleek black door that’s embossed with fine floral details, and my heartbeat quickens. Danton steps forward and places his three-fingered hand flat against the glossy surface, and a second later, a soft click tells me it’s unlocked. With a gentle push, the door swings open, revealing a lavishly romantic white and red room, and a delicious floral smell spills out into the hallway.

“Make yourself at home, Monstress,” he says, gesturing for me to enter with a sweep of his hand. “You’ll find snacks and drinks have been provided. The door will only open for monster flesh, so when you’re ready to leave, simply place your hand against it and wait.”

I nod my thanks to him, trying to appear calm and unbothered, but I’m failing miserably. Every part of me is crawling withanticipation, my mind spinning out of control with possibilities. A tiny part of me still regrets this decision entirely, but it’s too late to turn back.

With a shaky breath, I step into the room, and the door clicks closed behind me.

My eyes immediately gravitate to the black four-poster bed. It has a red comforter and several red pillows all neatly lined against the headboard. I wonder briefly if I should wait there for the shapeshifter, naked and draped across it like an ancient painting, but I can’t bring myself to do it. Even if this is an act of debauchery, I plan to at least exchange pleasantries with him first.

I pry my eyes away and take in the rest of the room, which isn’t much. A cream lounge chair sits off to my right, positioned on a red rug that covers a large portion of the stone floor. Dried meats and a bottle of wine sit on a small table against one wall, and a vintage chest sits against another.

My stomach somersaults as my eyes land on a second door, and I instinctively know that’s where the shapeshifter will enter from. The thought of him strolling through the door at any second sends my adrenaline sky high, and I anxiously look for something to distract myself.

Wine.

That’ll help calm my nerves.

I uncork the bottle and fill the glass on the table halfway before quickly bringing it to my lips and swallowing a mouthful. Not the most graceful, but I just need it to do its job quickly.

He’ll be here any minute.

Chapter Three

Kade

Despite being calleda mansion by the monsters who reside here, the place is more like a castle with its stone walls and long corridors. Horrendous oil paintings adorn the walls, and gaudy decorations fill the rooms. Mistress Raiine’s taste in décor is a travesty.

I walk the familiar path without needing directions, but Sparky seems intent on riding every one of my nerves bareback today as he mutters instructions behind my back.

“Left. Right. Up the stairs.”

I grit my teeth and bite back my irritation, knowing that fighting with him is only going to prolong my client’s wait, and it will risk my well-being in the process. I’ll save it for another day.

“Can you tell me anything else about the client?” I ask, desperate for him to shut the fuck up about directions.

“Only that she’s new,” he grunts. “She’s never been here before, and she asked for you specifically. Danton didn’t say anything else.”

I frown, wishing he had something else for me to go on, but it isn’t out of the norm. I rarely know much about who I’m meeting until I’m shoved into the room with them.

“Right.”

We take two flights of stairs that are reserved for staff and emerge onto a private landing that’s kept hidden from guests and clients. They aren’t allowed to see the inner workings of the mansion, only the theatrics that are curated for them. To our left is a darkly stained door with no doorknob.

Sparky places his hand against it, waiting a beat as it unlocks, before shoving it open for us to step inside.

There isn’t much to the room, but over the years I’ve memorized everything about it, down to the cracks in the cement-block walls. A single lamp lights the space, and a small table waits against the wall to our left. Another doorway stands straight ahead of us, and upon seeing it, a tickle of anticipation races up my spine. On the other side, my client awaits, and as reluctant as I am to see the job through, I can’t help but be a little curious.

What kind of monster or monstress awaits?

Sparky makes his way to the small table, which is topped with an old-fashioned bottle and a single shot glass. The sight is so familiar that I hardly pay attention as he uncorks the bottle and fills the tiny glass to its brim with a swirling, pink liquid.

“Drink,” he says, carefully passing it to me.

I take it begrudgingly and stare down into it, watching the light play off the drink rippling inside. Even after years of taking the aphrodisiac potion, I still have to talk myself into it most days. Not only does it make me completely lose my inhibitions and unlock an unbridled wave of lust, but it tastes like ass. And not the good kind.

“Sometime today, Fucker,” Sparky hisses, and I shoot him a look before knocking back the drink.

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