Summoning a Demon Boyfriend

Ariel had wanted one thing. One single, very simple thing: a date with Kareem. Not a fairy tale, not an epic romance, just dinner with her dashing, kind coworker from accounting. Kareem, with his easy smile and that ridiculous head of thick, jet-black hair, and those warm brown eyes that any girl could melt into. He was the sort of man who could make leaning against a copier seem cinematic.

But apparently, that was too much to ask for.

When their company, Evermore Tours, announced an all-expenses-paid trip to Thailand in honor of its seventy-fifth anniversary, Ariel had nearly levitated with joy. A whole week abroad, company-wide, in a tropical paradise? A week in close proximity to Kareem, with the added bonus of cocktails and white sand beaches? The romantic possibilities wrote themselves.

Until Kareem had casually announced that he was bringing along his new girlfriend.

A new girlfriend. As in, barely-started-dating new. Which begged the obvious question: what kind of person brought a brand-new girlfriend on an international vacation? A vacation their company was paying for? Ariel could only process it in a loop, her thoughts stuck on repeat: Why? Why? Why?

So naturally, she had stormed over to her best friend Lillian’s apartment, collapsed onto her couch, and dissolved into what she charitably called “venting,” but what any outside observer might identify as “full-bodied sobbing.” Thirty-one years on earth, and she had nothing to show for it but a long line of disappointing blind dates with her friends’ cousins, coworkers, or whichever hopeless case the internet spat her way. And Kareem—the one man she actually liked—was already off the market before she’d even had a chance to try.

It wasn’t that she thought she was unattractive. She was curvier than average, but she owned that. Her eyes, an unremarkable shade of brown, were fine.

Her hair, however, she had mixed feelings on. Dark, thick, and determined, her coils rebelled against every brush and product. She’d inherited the texture from her dad, which she loved in theory, but her mother’s glossy, conventionally pretty hair might have been easier.

So when Lillian—sweet, granola-crunching, crystal-toting, incense-burning Lillian—offered her a “love manifestation spell,” Ariel hadn’t even pretended to resist. Nothing else had worked.

What was one more ridiculous attempt?

Did she think it was stupid? Absolutely.

Did she feel less stupid after her third glass of wine? Yup!

That was how she ended up cross-legged on her living room rug with Leeroy—her faithful chihuahua, all liquid eyes and long silky fur— nestled into her lap like a warm bean. The coffee table bore the evidence of Lillian’s influence: a chalk circle with strange symbols Ariel could only pray would wash off, a glimmering chunk of some kind of rock, and a half-melted red candle.

She wore her “spellcasting attire,” which was to say: a white tank top, no bra, and a pair of stretched-out pink granny panties that had seen better years. She poured herself a fourth glass of wine then took a breath deep enough to light her candle’s flame.

“This is so dumb,” she muttered.

Closing her eyes, she pictured Kareem. Sans girlfriend—just Kareem, the way his smile tilted, the way his sleeves rolled just enough to show his forearms when he was concentrating. Did she want to break up his relationship? No, not technically. But it was brand new, a relationship still soft around the edges, hardly formed at all. If it dissolved, if by some cosmic nudge it ended, would that really be so wrong?

No. The point wasn’t sabotage. The point was confidence. Attraction. To send some kind of signal into the world that she was ready, that Kareem might—just might—look her way and realize what was standing right in front of him.

She read the “incantation,” Lillian’s loopy, sugar-sweet handwriting looping across the page like it was meant to decorate a cupcake. Ariel finished the last ridiculous line with a dramatic flourish, crumpled the paper into a ball, and tossed it over her shoulder like yesterday’s receipts.

“This is so dumb,” she muttered.

Silence settled over the room, thick and unimpressed. She grimaced.

“To all the spirits out there,” she called, pitching her voice upward in a mock-plea, every word dripping with bitterness, “throw some good luck my way. Apparently, I need all the help I can get.”

Her sigh was heavy. She stretched out a hand, fully prepared to shove every piece of Lillian’s mystical junk off her coffee table, polish off the last of her wine, and surrender to the soothing chaos of a trashy dating show.

That was when Leeroy lost his mind.

The tiny chihuahua sprang from her lap like a furry missile, yapping with the fervor of a dog who had just remembered he had ancestors that hunted wolves. His sudden leap collided with Ariel’s arm just as her fingers brushed the stem of the wineglass.

Everything happened at once.

The wineglass launched into the air in a tragic slow-motion arc. Ariel lunged, knocking over the crystal, smearing chalk symbols across the table with her chest, flailing wildly to save the glass from its impending doom.

“Not the rug!” she squeaked.

She caught the glass. Then fumbled it. Then caught it again, muttering curses at her past self for every previous drink.

For one glorious second, she thought she had it. Then the glass slipped, crashed against the table, and shattered, releasing a flood of crimson wine across Lillian’s “sacred” arrangement. The rug drank it greedily. Ariel’s soul wept.

And then—

The air ignited.

A violent burst of scarlet light erupted from the table, spilling across the room. Pink mist curled upward, thick and glittering, swallowing everything it touched. Ariel froze, half-sprawled over the mess, staring at Leeroy, who sat happily wagging his tail: no thoughts, just vibes.

The mist thickened until she could barely see her own arms, slick and sticky with wine. Her lungs filled with the sweet, smoky tang of something unnatural, something that hummed against her skin.

Then—CRASH!

A white-hot light exploded in front of her, searing her eyes. She yelped, throwing her arms over her face. It was so bright, she swore it might actually burn a hole through her retinas.

When the brilliance dulled enough to peek, she lowered her hands—only to find she was no longer alone.

There was a man sitting across from her. Except—no, not a man. Definitely not a man.

He smiled at her with a flash of perfect white teeth, though the elongated, sharpened canines ruined any chance at normalcy. His eyes: shimmering golden irises floating in a sea of black.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he purred, his voice smooth as velvet, threaded with something dangerous. “You rang?”

Ariel stared, every muscle in her body locking into paralysis.

He was enormous, even seated, his frame dwarfing her living room as though the space had shrunk to accommodate him. His hair was a shock of dark crimson, the shade of fresh blood, tumbling messily across his forehead. From just above his brow curved two black horns, thick and polished, wrapping backward over his head before curling outward.

His ears—pointed, pierced all the way up with gleaming metal—twitched slightly, catching the faintest hum in the air.

Her gaze, against her better judgment, wandered lower. The vest he wore hung open, an afterthought rather than clothing, exposing a chest that looked like it had been carved with unnecessary dedication. Muscle on muscle, every line defined, as if someone had Photoshopped a fantasy cover model into existence.

Ariel squirmed. Heat crept up her neck. She was acutely aware that she was sitting there in a braless tank top and granny panties, staring at what was either a hallucination or a very real, very half-naked demon.

Leeroy barked once, tail wagging furiously, as if to say:You’re welcome.

With languid confidence, the man slid a finger beneath her chin, tipping her face upward until her bleary eyes met his. His touch was practiced, deliberate, every motion charged with heat.

“Like what you see?” he murmured, voice curling low and rich. “It’s all yours—for tonight.”

“I don’t want it,” Ariel replied flatly, her words slurred as her half-lidded eyes drooped further and she slumped against the table like a marionette with cut strings.

The man froze, his hand falling away from her skin as though she’d burned him. The crimson glow and pink mist around them evaporated with a sharp, offended poof.

“What do you mean, you don’t want it?” His voice cracked in disbelief.

“I don’t want it. Pretty clear.”

He actually sputtered, tripping over his words like a toddler trying to outrun their own shoelaces. “Then—then why, in all of Hell, did you call me here? Look at this mess!” He flung an accusatory hand at the coffee table—its chalk smears, overturned crystals, and shattered glass. “What was this for? Shits and giggles?”

Pouting, Ariel crossed her arms tight across her chest, wobbling slightly as she did so. “My stupid crush has a new girlfriend, and I just wanted a little luck. You know, maybe he’d pick me instead.”

The man blinked, jaw tightening. Then he stood, towering over her, golden eyes narrowing with fury.

“You mean to tell me,” he said slowly, “that you butchered your spell, all liquored and horned up for a guy who is dating someone else, and instead you got me." He swept his hands dramatically down the length of his body. “A hot, sexy demon. In your living room. While you’re in your underwear. And you still don’t want all this?”

Crouching down, his abs staring her directly in the face, he buried his nose into her hair, deeply inhaling, “and it’s been seven years since you so much as touch a guy.”

Ariel squeaked, dropping to the floor in a graceless slide. She scuttled backward, arms thrown up in exasperation until they slapped against the hardwood with a satisfying smack.

“I didn’t mean to bring you here! It was my stupid dog’s fault!”

At that, Leeroy tilted his head, ears perked, his wide brown eyes shining with innocent betrayal.

Ariel clutched his little face between her hands, her voice instantly softening. “I’m sorry, Lee-Lee. You’re a good doggie.”

The demon looked from her to the dog, his handsome face twisting into abject horror. “Are you serious? Your dog? That mangy little goblin did this?"

He groaned, then sunk into a sulk beside her on the floor. His long body folded with unnatural elegance, though his golden eyes still burned with annoyance. “Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable. You know I’m hot, right? Even for a lust demon, I’m hot as hell.” He jabbed a claw-tipped finger into the ruined coffee table for emphasis.

“Just because I’m not into you doesn’t mean I’m blind,” Ariel muttered, rubbing her temples. “I see you’re hot. I just... can’t do a one-night thing.”

He blinked. Then blinked again. His mouth fell slightly open.

Finally, he flopped onto the floor a dramatic groan. “Well. This is a first.”

“Sorry,” Ariel said softly, her drunken guilt curling her words. “Do you... want a glass of wine before you head out? I’ve got enough left for two very small glasses.”

Groaning, the demon rolled onto his back, horns clacking against the hardwood with a hollow thunk. He winced, rubbing at the base of one. “I might need that wine after all. And just so you know—” he flicked his gaze toward her, golden eyes glinting—“I can’t exactly ‘hit the road.’”

Ariel blinked, swaying as she sat upright. “What do you mean you can’t? You need to leave.”

His lips pursed, brows furrowing. “I’m stuck here until I satisfy your lustful wish. Normally, for a lust demon, that’s a rocking night in. Maybe a headboard dent or two. But nooooo.” He stretched the word into a whine, his tone pure mockery. “You have to be difficult and have feelings.”

With a groan, Ariel grabbed the nearest throw pillow and smacked it against his abs. The cushion bounced off like it had hit a marble statue. He didn’t even blink.

“I told you—it was my dog!” she cried, then collapsed forward until her face pressed against his chest. “Go home. I don’t want you. I want Kareem.”

An evil smile curled across his mouth, sharp and merciless. He tapped her nose with one long finger. “As much as I would love to ditch your crybaby ass, we’re stuck together, buttercup. Until your heart’s desire is fulfilled. So”—he stretched his arms out dramatically—“get used to your new roomie.”

Leeroy, as if on cue, went berserk with joy. He bolted around the room before launching himself onto the demon’s chest and lavishing him with wet, slobbery kisses.

“Ugh!” The demon recoiled, shoving Ariel aside as he caught the squirming chihuahua and lobbed him gently onto the couch. “Keep your nasty little tongue to yourself, mutt. This is all your fault.”

“So... what do we do now?” Ariel whined, flopping flat onto the floor like a fainting Victorian heroine who had given up on life.

The demon pinched the bridge of his nose. “You are pathetic,” he muttered, before scooping her up as though she weighed nothing. He carried her effortlessly into the kitchen.

“Where’s that wine?” he grumbled.

“Top shelf of the fridge,” she mumbled, pointing limply. “Whole bottle of white.”

He tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of flour, careful to tilt his head so she didn’t bang into his horns, then yanked open the fridge. With a casual flex, he cleanly snapped the top of the glass bottle off with his bare hands.

“So, this guy—Kareem—has a girlfriend,” he said, as if discussing the weather, “but they just started dating?”

“Yes,” Ariel sighed miserably, dangling against his back like a deflated dish towel.

He scoffed, unimpressed. “Well, that should be easy.”

“Huh?”

Flipping her into the cradle of one arm, he poured the wine into his mouth with the other. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and leveled a glare at her.

By the time they returned to the living room, Ariel found herself deposited onto the couch with all the grace of a sack of potatoes. He, meanwhile, made himself comfortable on the armrest, looking insufferably pleased with himself.

“Listen,” he said, gesturing with the bottle like a professor lecturing in a toga. “They just started dating, right? That means they’re not solid. Relationships in the honeymoon phase are as flimsy as tissue paper. All she needs is her head turned—and all he needs is a little nudge in your direction. By posing as your boyfriend, I make you look like hot stuff and tempt her into doubting her shiny new romance. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.” He bellowed with laughter and chugged more wine.

“You’re... you’re going to come to Thailand with me? As my boyfriend?”

The demon froze mid-swig, lowering the bottle slowly. His eyes widened, a gleam of delight sparking behind the gold.

“We’re going to Thailand?” His grin spread, fanged and wicked. “Well, damn. I thought this was going to be a huge pain, but this might actually be fun! I haven’t been to Thailand in forever!” He leapt to his feet, whooping with glee. “Yee-haw!”

Before Ariel could stop him, he mussed her hair with both hands like she was his pet. “Saddle up, girl! We’re going for one hell of a ride!”