Page 42 of How Not to Date a Demon

Her throat went dry. “You have to get the wings back out?”

Galen’s lips twitched at her wording, but she watched him hide it. “Yeah. Horns too.”

Maeve worried her lip. Did she want to go to Hell? Not in so many words. But… she was being seduced by the most desired question in the whole world: what happens after someone dies?

It was something that no one had ever witnessed before. Something no one had ever survived long enough to mark down in history books.

What was waiting for us in the light at the end of the tunnel?

That probably should have been her leading factor for agreeing to go with Galen to Hell. But Maeve hadn’t ever really cared about the whole religion thing, never had a reason to.

But now… now she knew she wasn’t crazy. Knew her boyfriend had been hiding something—a big something! Rips in the shirt, the chanting, the weird puppies, his disappearances.

And she wanted more answers. A year wasn’t enough time to get to know someone, and that was never more apparent than this moment. But despite everything, she still loved this fucker. Wanted to know every damn thing about him.

Even if it meant—

“So?” Galen prompted. “You gonna go to Hell with me?”

Maeve stared at him from across the room. Galen had been lying throughout their whole relationship. Could she trust him now?

Everything she thought she knew about her partner was wrong. He was a demon!

Who ruined your surprise party last year because he was the worst at reading social cues.

Who’d talked to her when she was upset, and even now, continued putting his socks and dishes in the right places.

She’d never had a boyfriend, a partner, who listened to her like Galen did. Who supported her like Galen did. Who loved her and made her life easier and more fun instead of stressful and difficult. Galen was the best boyfriend she’d ever had, demon be damned.

The man who cuddled those silly puppies couldn’t be an evil demon.

The same man who made her coffee and left it on the counter for her, made to perfection, couldn’t hurt her.

She could… Maeve truly felt like Galen wouldn’t let anything happen to her.

And dammit, the answer to all her questions stood a few feet from her, hand held out, awaiting her answer.

“Let’s go to Hell,” she murmured an answer.

She reached out to take Galen’s hand, her palm slipping into his like it always belonged there.

Maeve discovered something about herself that night.

Apparently, she was into demons.

When he told her to close her eyes, the air grew… tense. Like when you stepped outside right before it stormed, and the wind was blowing and the leaves were rustling and the sky was gray and you knew something was coming. Goosebumps tickled her skin as Galen put his wings on.

But it wasn’t just wings. She felt his skin vibrate beneath her touch where she held his hand, and the very specific sound of fabric ripping. Galen’s hand tensed in hers.

“Oops. I forgot about the shirt again,” he whispered.

It took everything in her for Maeve not to burst out laughing like a schoolgirl during an exam.

When the vibration stopped only seconds later, Galen squeezed her hand gently. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Blame it on her messed up sense of humor. Her lack of sleep. Hell, call her plain crazy.

But the first thought that went through her mind when she finally blinked her eyes open and saw Galen was…