Page 14 of When I Accidentally Summoned a Demon

My tail, betraying my nervousness, wags back and forth, occasionally curling inward toward her. Bethie’s bright emeralds zero in on the spade tip moving through the air. The tiny creature’s intense focus makes my muscles tighten defensively, until a tension, a strange, pinching sensation, forms directly under my sternum. It is a feeling I have never quite experienced, a soft ache I cannot name.

Vesper cuts through my internal crisis. “Have you ever seen a child before?”

I shake my head, keeping a wary distance from the babbling creature. “No. I have heard of them, but I have never seen one till this moment. We do not have children in Hell, Vesper.”

She offers a slow shrug, her expression shifting. She shifts her weight and stabs a small finger in my direction, her gaze hardening into something authoritative. “Number one rule in this house, Valefar. Are you listening? Because you’d better listen well.”

I instantly straighten to my full, towering height. I jut out my chin, folding my arms behind my back like a loyal soldier. “Yes, Lady Vesper.”

She smiles, satisfied. Nodding softly, she continues to bounce Bethie while reaching over to the nearby dresser to retrieve a colorful plastic circle—it rattles, but it also has some sort of rubbery ring. She offers it to the child, and Bethie immediately chomps down on the toy with surprising ferocity. I raise my brows, genuinely wondering if this tiny, hungry creature is part beastie like her mother.

But I snap my attention back to Vesper as she lays down her law. “Repeat after me: I vow…”

I blink rapidly, taken aback. But I place my massive, clawed hand over the center of my chest, feeling the heavy thud of my demonic heart. “I vow…”

Vesper leans down to press a kiss to the side of Bethie’s head, attention locking onto mine with an unyielding fire. “I vow never to harm one hair on this child’s head, so help me, God.”

My jaw drops open. Rebuking the natural order of my existence to swear by the Creator. But looking at the two of them, bathed in the soft morning light, the words come easier than they should. I clear my throat, my voice a gravelly, resonant bass that fills the small room.

“I vow never to harm one hair on this child’s head—or any other part of her being—so help me, God…” I pause, my pride demanding a tiny addition, “…and Lucifer Morningstar.”

Vesper lifts her chin higher, squaring her shoulders with a mixture of immense pride and maternal triumph. “That’ll do, Big Guy. That’ll do.” She turns and gestures toward the open doorway with her free hand. “Come on. We need to get her some breakfast. By the way, what do you eat?”

I open my mouth, fully intending to tell her exactly how much I would like to eat her, how I wish to drag my tongue along every inch of her soft, warm curves. But I watch the small, innocent child chewing viciously on her plastic ring, and I wisely snap my mouth shut.

I nod silently, my tail trailing behind me as I follow my witch mistress and her tiny offspring down the hall toward the kitchen.

7

Vesper

It’s been exactly twelve hours since I summoned a Duke of Hell, and my kitchen already feels like a staging ground for an unholy sitcom.

I shift Bethie’s little toddler weight against my hip as I bustle into the kitchen. She’s in the peak of her ‘Boo from Monsters Inc.’ phase—semi-sturdy legs that just learned to toddle and a vocabulary that’s about fifty percent ‘no’, twenty-five percent “mamma”, and twenty-five percent ‘Ba or Va.’

The summer morning air filters through the open window. I love the scent: cedar, pine needles, and the jasmine I’ve spent months growing and nurturing.

Valefar follows me like a well-trained hellhound, then stands awkwardly near the counter like he’s afraid the laminate might bite him. He looks completely overwhelmed by the toaster, shock and suspicion crossing his features.

Despite the confusion, the morning light catches the edge of his black horns and the bronze shimmer of his chest. I track the way his muscles ripple beneath that shimmering, hellish skin, and something low and possessive twinges in my chest.

He’s mine. I feel it in my bones—a shocking, soul-deep ownership that’s only gotten stronger since we…well, since last night. As long as he continues to be a good big boy, I’m keeping him.

This is unreal. I’ve known him for one night. Part of me wonders if it’s some twisted devil magic. I remind myself it could also be all the fresh, raw endorphins. Not to mention his demon dick is the best I’ve ever had.

Regardless, I want him to stay. At least for the time being. I remind myself to be cautious. Don’t make any promises…to him or myself.

His tail, that wicked spade-tipped weapon, flicks out and brushes the edge of my thigh as I pass. I don’t mind. I love the way it feels—a constant, rhythmic reminder that he’s always mindful of me. But he surveys the kitchen items, brain practically bursting with questions.

I give him a crash course. Don’t turn on the stovetop. Unless you want to get burned. He tells me he can’t get burned by normal fire. That’s…interesting.

The coffee pot is a sacred object. He examined it like a treasure. The refrigerator and the pantry store food. He sniffed and read labels. The sink is the “wash basin.” I demonstrated by cleaning my hands. He followed my instructions.

The dishwasher? I’m not getting into that right now.

Finally, it’s time for a little test.

“Here, hold her for a minute while I get the food,” I say, stepping into his space and placing Bethie in his massive, claw-tipped arms.