Page 46 of Demon Hunter

And I love that he’s planning our forever.

I sigh. “I do like this couch.” It’s a peace offering, and he grins.

“Me too.”

“Dylan has excellent taste in furniture.” Marc leaves “but not in men” unsaid, but the words hover between us all.

“Do we really have to go to the ballet tonight?” Ian whines. “Is it even in English?”

Marc huffs. “It’s ballet, Ian. Theydance.”

“Oh my god,” my brother-bestie mutters.

“It’s only a couple of hours,” Dylan consoles. I’m not sure why he’s so determined to be the peacemaker today—usually he’d just tell us all to fuck off. But he seems really set on all of us getting along and Marc being happy. “Maybe we can get some rooms at that hotel and order room service after.”

I can see from his face that the offer was totally impulsive and he regrets it.

“That’s very kind of you, but not necessary,” Marc says smoothly. “We’ll have a lovely evening at the ballet, supper afterward, and then spend the night at your apartment. I’m sure we can arrange expedited delivery for your new furniture and have it in place before Ian and I leave on Monday.” He smiles. “Tomorrow, we can look for a coffee table.”

“Ian and I are going to the market,” I blurt. “He’s always wanted to see it. Farmers’ market. Lots of great stuff. And cheese! That cheese today was awesome. I bet we can find some good local cheeses at the farmers’ market, right, Ian?”

“Right!” He nods so hard, I think his head might pop off. “And wine! Cheese goes with wine. By the time you get back from buying a coffee table, we’ll have cheese and wine and some… other stuff that goes with it. Fancy lunch!”

“That does sound nice,” Marc muses.

“The weather’s going to be good tomorrow, too,” Dylan adds. “Maybe we could have a picnic? The botanical gardens are supposed to be great at this time of year.”

Yikes. That wasn’t part of the plan.

“Any carnivorous plants?” Marc asks, and my jawdrops.

“I… don’t know.” Even Dylan seems weirded out by that, but Marc waves it off.

“Never mind. I do like a well-kept garden, and with the proper supplies, a picnic can be delightful.”

Suddenly my idea to get out of shopping doesn’t seem so clever after all.

Chapter 20

Dylan

“God, this is taking forever,”Matt whines on Monday morning. It’s a quiet whine, though, because the last time Marc heard him complain about how long it was taking, he decided we should remove everything from the living room and start from scratch. I’m pretty sure Marc can still hear him, but at least this way they can both pretend.

Itistaking longer than I expected, though. I feel sorry for the poor delivery guys. I swear this is the ninth time Marc’s had them move the sofa. He’s got a vision, and since we won’t let him make it happen with his powers, he’s making us all suffer.

“He’ll be done soon,” I whisper, leaning into his side. “You gotta admit, it looks good.” I never had a problem with my random collection of furniture, but even I can see the difference between the broken elephant coffee table and the big, solid, perfect for putting your dinner and/or feet on table that Marc helped me choose. The vast range at the store was daunting, but he steered me toward stuff with clean lines and solid construction that I could be comfortable on—not at all like the furniture I’ve seen in the background at his house on video calls. The fact that he thought about what I’d like and would suit my life gives me more of those conflicted feelings. Iknowhe’s notevil. I do. He’s been on our side for years and he’s dating Ian. I’m even on Team Make Marc More Relatable. Iwantedhim in the apartment this weekend.

But twenty years of belief isn’t that easy to undo, especially since, even though he’s not evil, heisstill dangerous.

“I don’t have to admit anything,” Matt grumbles, breaking into my introspection. “Except that I can still smell that damn cheese.”

I roll my eyes. There’s no way he can smell the cheese nearly twenty-four hours after we ate it all. Anyway, it didn’t smell that strong, even though he bitched about it nonstop.

“I think it needs to go two inches to the right and an inch forward,” Marc muses, and Ian sighs.

“Yeah, I think we’re done,” he announces firmly, giving his demonic boyfriend a look I wouldn’t dare to, then turning to the delivery guys with a smile. “Thanks so much, but we can handle it from here.”

“It’s no trouble,” one of them begins, but Matt’s already practically leaping forward, wallet in hand to tip them both.

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