Page 31 of Summoning Mr. Wrong
“I think,” he said carefully, “the favor has nothing to do with practical help or supernatural assistance. I think it’s about your heart.”
I blinked. “My… heart?”
“The ritual you performed—it wasn’t just about material abundance. The words you used, the intent behind them… you were asking for fulfillment. Completion.”
“I was asking for rent money,” I protested weakly.
“On the surface, yes. But rituals tap into deeper desires, the ones we often don’t acknowledge even to ourselves.” His eyes softened. “What did you really want, Julian? Before I appeared?”
I thought back to that night, sitting alone in my tiny apartment, desperate and lonely. The rent money had been the immediate concern, but underneath…
“Connection,” I admitted quietly. “I wanted to feel like I mattered to someone. Like I wasn’t just… drifting through life alone.”
Deus nodded, as if confirming something he’d suspected. “That’s why I was sent. Not for money or career advice. For this.” He gestured between us. “To show you that you’re worthy of love. That you matter.”
“Love?” I repeated, the word catching in my throat. “Are you saying…”
“I’m saying,” he interrupted gently, “that demons aren’t supposed to fall in love with humans. It’s not in the contract. It’s not in any contract. But here we are.”
The admission hung in the air between us, momentous and terrifying. Deus—a demon, an immortal being who had witnessed the rise and fall of civilizations—was telling me he loved me.
“But if that’s the favor,” I said slowly, trying to make sense of it all, “then wouldn’t it be completed now? You’ve shown me I matter, that I’m… lovable.” The word felt strange on my tongue.
“I don’t think it’s that simple,” Deus said. “I think you need to believe it. Not just intellectually, but in your heart. And I’m not sure you do yet.”
He was right, and the realization was painful. Despite everything—the care he’d shown me, the connection we’d formed—part of me was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. For him to leave, like everyone eventually did.
“So what do we do?” I asked, hating how small my voice sounded.
“I don’t know,” he admitted, taking my hand. “But we have two weeks to figure it out.”
Two weeks to solve a supernatural riddle involving my own heart. No pressure.
“Maybe we should test your theory,” I suggested, an idea forming. “If the favor is about me accepting love, feeling worthy of it, then we should… lean into that. Really be together, not just as roommates or friends with benefits, but as a couple.”
Deus’s eyebrows rose. “You want to date me? Officially?”
“Yes,” I said, surprising myself with my certainty. “Let’s go all in for these two weeks. No holding back, no pretending this is just temporary or casual. Let’s see if that completes the favor.”
A slow smile spread across his face, genuine and bright. “Julian Moore, are you asking me to be your boyfriend?”
“Yes,” I said, returning his smile despite the gravity of the situation. “Asmodeus, demon of lust and terrible roommate habits, will you be my boyfriend for the next two weeks and possibly save us both from mysterious magical consequences?”
He laughed, pulling me into his arms. “When you put it like that, how could I refuse?”
His kiss was different somehow—more tender, more deliberate, as if trying to communicate everything he couldn’t say in words. I returned it with equal fervor, trying to push aside the countdown clock ticking in my mind.
Two weeks. It wasn’t much time, but it would have to be enough.
As we moved to the bedroom, clothes discarded along the way, I couldn’t help wondering if this was just postponing the inevitable. But when Deus laid me down on the bed, looking at me with those impossible amber eyes full of something that looked remarkably like love, I decided that even if it was temporary, it was worth it.
Some things were worth the pain of losing them.
Chapter 19
Dating a demon, officially, wasn’t dramatically different from our previous arrangement. We still shared meals, watched movies, and had mind-blowing sex that occasionally made the lights flicker. But there was a new openness between us, an acknowledgment of feelings that had been building for weeks.
Deus started doing small, surprisingly romantic things—leaving notes for me to find throughout the day, bringing home flowers “borrowed” from the park, cooking elaborate meals just because he knew I’d enjoy them. He even accompanied me to my first day at the bookstore, helping me navigate the inventory system with suspiciously expert knowledge.
