Page 8 of Of Monsters and Mazes

“On a Saturday?” He asked with a chuckle. “I know how that goes.” The fact that he understood instead of complaining about the interruption added another point to his hotness quotient.

“This is the first Saturday I’ve had off in a month.” I spoke idly as I unlocked the home screen. It figured that there would be some sudden emergency that just had to be handled on the weekend. This wouldn’t be the first time an overnight build or a bad patch fucked everything up, and considering Eugene had planned to go to the office today, it was a pretty safe bet that it was a programmer in panic mode.

I would have preferred that. But the number in my notifications was unknown.

The actual sender, however, was not.

Jericho: You look positively adorable. I might have suggested a more durable outfit for my maze, but the short skirt should be much more fun.

The small, scared, startled whimper I heard must have come from me, because the guy at my side started asking if everything was okay. I didn’t have the mental capacity to answer or acknowledge him, as I furiously typed into my text box.

Me: How did you get this number? Where the fuck are you?

My eyes darted around the coffee shop, then shot to the outside street, scanning every driver in every car, every construction worker, dog walker, and pedestrian. None of them looked like the picture I’d seen.

He wasn’t out there.

Jericho: He’s not your boyfriend, is he? Do I need to remove him first, or will you be able to pry yourself away from his mediocrity for long enough to play with your king?

Me: Neither. Because I already said no. I’m not playing with you, and you’re going to leave me the fuck alone.

Jericho: The hard to get act is cute, but it’s not remotely believable.

Cocky asshole.

Me: It’s amazing how you’re so confident that you’re God’s gift to women, and yet you’re over here begging me to give you the time of day. Why don’t you go stalk some girl who actually wants you?

I spoke with much more boldness than I felt.

Jericho: Oh, Fraulein, you misunderstand me terribly. I’m not a god’s gift to women. YOU are a god’s gift to me. Quite literally, actually. And what a gift you are. I can’t wait to see that feisty attitude get humbled.

Me: Leave. Me. Alone.

He ignored my demand and carried on.

Jericho: Are you almost done with your little distraction? I’m growing impatient.

Before I could send back another angry response, a picture pinged my inbox. Jericho sent me a selfie in an eerily familiar, dimly lit room, with his green eyes sparkling front and center, his auburn hair falling around his face…

And my treacherous little Pumpkin curled up on his lap.

“Fucking piece of shit!” I shouted as I immediately stood from my seat. My new friend blinked at me in confusion, and I didn’t have time to explain. I abandoned the coffee shop as quickly as the next picture could load on my phone, depicting Jericho’s forest green nails scratching Pumpkin’s fluffy chin. My cat’s eyes were half lidded, like he was falling asleep when he was supposed to be murdering the intruder, and that had me in a full, enraged sprint for home.

Me: If you harm a single hair on Pumpkin’s fucking head, I swear I will gut you with a goddamn shovel.

Jericho: That’s quite the visual, Fraulein. I knew you were my kind of woman.

What a stupid fucking nickname.

Me: Stop calling me that.

Jericho: Fraulein? Or my kind of woman? I won’t stop calling you either, but just clarifying so I know which ruffles your feathers the most efficiently.

Me: You’re insufferable. Who the hell are you and what do you want? If this is a joke, I’m not laughing.

I was still another block from home, and then I had to get to the tenth floor. This officially ruled out any hope that this was one of my coworkers playing a malicious prank on me.

Jericho: I already told you. Are you really so used to being lied to that you can’t even recognize an honest confession? I’m the King, and you, my lovely little puppet, are my chosen tribute. Your denial doesn’t change reality. But if you’re going to continue to be so, so stubborn about this ordeal, I have no choice but to give you some motivation.