Demons Desire Donuts

1. CHAPTER

CHAPTER

ONE

Indigo Summers knew Somerstown was full of monsters.

After all, he’d made a deal with one.

He’d been given a terminal diagnosis, advanced lung adenocarcinoma, even though he’d never smoked a day in his life.

The doctors had said he would have up to five years with proper treatment, but that wasn’t good enough for Indy.

He was only twenty-seven years old at the time, and there was still so much he wanted to do, countless places to go, more adventures to have.

Five years simply wasn’t enough.

He wasted the first few making the most of what time he had left, partying himself right down into the gutter. He took countless lovers to bed, put every drug he could find into his body, and spent each second seeking pleasure and fun.

It was heaven, but it didn’t last.

His family turned their backs on him and cut off any support, so Indy had been left on his own to keep the party going. He turned to drug dealing and sex work, and he had convinced himself that he was happy.

But that didn’t last either.

And then he got sicker.

Weaker.

His time was going to run out.

So, he had decided to take measures into his own hands.

His family had always told him that his great-grandmother Gammy was a witch, and what few memories he had from when he was a child definitely qualified her as one.

He could remember her cooking weird potions in giant pots, lighting candles with a snap of her fingers, and she often spoke to people—or things—who weren’t there.

Once Gammy had passed at the impressive age of one-hundred-and-three, Indy’s parents had moved into her house and elected to trash her witchy possessions.

No matter how many times the items were sold or tossed out though, they simply reappeared back at the house as before.

They never talked about it, and instead they decided to simply lock up everything in a storage shed out in the backyard and pretend it didn’t exist.

It was there Indy went, desperate and dying, searching through her books, scrolls, and tomes. His family wouldn’t help him, doctors couldn’t save him, and he didn’t want to die so young. He wasn’t ready, and he didn’t care what the cost was.

Even if it meant his soul.

One magical ritual later, Indy met a demon named Mr. Kalt and his life changed forever.

It was a life he only got to have now because of Mr. Kalt, one that Mr. Kalt owned and would do with as he pleased. Once he found out what Indy’s previous occupation had been, he decided to employ Indy as a human sex worker with a very unique specialty: monsters.

Monsters who wanted the thrill of sleeping with a human without the fear of revealing themselves to the mortal world. Indy had seen—and fucked—it all since making his deal and signing his body away.

Beat dying, right?

That’s what he told himself anyway.

There was a sense of prestige being one of the only humans privy to the city of Somerstown’s hidden world, and he honestly didn’t mind the work itself.

Mr. Kalt allowed him to keep some of his money, he was able to live on his own away from the club, and he didn’t think he could ever go back to having sex with humans after experiencing everything monsters had to offer.

Such great pleasure, however, came with great risks.

Monsters could be big and powerful, and Indy had to take certain measures to protect himself. Thanks to Gammy’s books, he was able to arm himself accordingly.

Silicone toys poured with iron and salt, lubricants made with rue, and more.

To be extra safe, his manicure was literally prepped to bring down the mightiest of beasts.

Cute bubbles of acrylics shaped to look like flowers or teddy bears or whatever else struck his mood held salt, iron, holy water, the works.

Although his life was guaranteed thanks to his deal and Mr. Kalt had his own strange way of being protective over Indy, he refused to go into any encounter unprepared.

He’d learned that everlasting life still meant he could get sick and even wounded, and he’d rather not spend a week recovering from a foul-tempered monster getting too rough with him.

In a pinch, he could break a nail and release the hidden substance within the acrylic to repel almost any manner of beast.

Too bad it didn’t work on humans.

“So, you like to party? ’Cause I would love to take you out sometime. Come on, I promise you’ll have the best time. You have no idea what a blast you’ll have. I mean, just the best—”

The mustached man currently trying to pick up Indy wasn’t entirely unattractive, but Indy wasn’t in the mood.

He was tired from a long shift at Mr. Kalt’s club, Lovecraft’s, and the only thing he wanted to do was get a large caramel frappe with two shots of espresso to sip on while he ran a few errands.

It was his day off, and he was certainly not going to waste it on this moron.

Being hit on wasn’t uncommon, of course.

Indy knew he was beautiful.

He was tall, thin, and his porcelain white skin was flawless.

The terms of his deal with Mr. Kalt halted his aging, so there wasn’t a wrinkle anywhere to be found.

His hair was blond, but he dyed it brilliant shades of blue with blue-violet highlights so it wasn’t a singular flat color.

His features were fair, usually painted with glamorous makeup and fake lashes, and he loved to accentuate his eyes.

His left was blue. The right one was too, but it had a large splash of brown around the rightmost outer rim. Because of the way light played with the colors, it gave the illusion that he had true heterochromia, when in fact it was only partial.

People were always captivated.

As they should be.

“I’m sure you hear this all the time,” the man blabbered on.

Ah, here it came.

“But you have the most beautiful eyes,” he gushed. “Wow, they’re like David Bowie or something. I just—”

“Tom, please stop talking to me,” Indy said flatly.

The man blinked in confusion. “My name isn’t Tom. It’s—”

“Ah ah.” Indy held up his hand. “I don’t care what it is. I’ve just decided to call you Tom. I used to have a dog named Tom. Hated him. So, as I was saying, Tom, please stop talking to me.” He jerked his head forward. “It’s your turn to order.”

Tom—or whoever he was—was completely flabbergasted, but he turned toward the counter to mumble something to the barista.

Indy rolled his eyes and sighed, rubbing his forehead in frustration.

It really was hard being beautiful.

Coffee acquired, he headed outside. He was aware of people staring at him, but that was fine. In addition to being gorgeous, he had found working for a demon removed his inhibitions, since caring about what any mortal man, woman, or anyone in between thought seemed pretty silly in comparison.

He wore tiny denim shorts, a Queen T-shirt he’d cut into an off-the-shoulder crop top, plus ripped fishnets, purple combat boots, and an assortment of colorful jewelry.

He had always loved bracelets and necklaces, but the only earrings he wore now were gauged hangers.

He’d stretched out his ears to accommodate larger jewelry when he was younger and the holes had never shrunk back down all the way.

Today’s set were made from quartz, polished and curved into the shape of the letter J so they would slide into his ears and hang—hence the name for the style. These were simple enough, though they had runes for protection carved along their length.

Fashionable? Yes.

Functional? Also yes.

Living in the hidden world of monsters had taught Indy not to ever let his guard down. After all, there was no telling what sort of nonsense might happen. A naga who was shedding might catch an attitude, a pixie could try to trick him into a heinous deal, or…

A man could jump out from the shadows of an alley to drag Indy into it.

Except that was really happening.

Right now.

Indy shouted and promptly slammed his coffee into the man’s head, dumping it all over him. “Get the fuck off me, fucker!”

“Hey, hey!” The man swatted the cup away as coffee ran down his face.

Indy wished it had been hot.

He wrenched himself away, ready to slam his boot right into the man’s groin. “Fucking let go!” The man still had his left wrist, and Indy tried to break free. “I swear to fuck, I will kill you!”

“Wait! Please!” the man pleaded. “This is important! You know, don’t you? No, you must or you wouldn’t be here.”

“Know what, asshat?”

“About the monsters.”

Indy froze.

He stopped struggling to get a better look at the man and figure out what he was dealing with.

He checked his left thumb nail as it had a special enchantment that would glow specific colors depending on who or what was in his immediate vicinity.

His current manicure featured cute acrylic bubbles shaped like bunnies and flowers, and the bunny on his thumb indicated the man was human by showing a faint purple glow with a hint of yellow, but it could have easily been a disguise.

The man was white, with papery thin skin, and old.

Not, like, in a nursing home old.

Sixties? Late fifties? Maybe?

Indy had never been the best at ages, but this man had some kind of magic, given the tingle. It was weak, so the guy was still probably human, but Indy knew that wizards and witches and other magically inclined folk could still be dangerous.

“Listen to me,” the man said urgently. “My name is Clancy, and I need to—”

“You need to let go of me before I call my master,” Indy warned. “Ten, nine, eight—”

“Please!” Clancy’s eyes were wild. “There isn’t much time!”

“You’re right because you’re about seven seconds from being a fried piece of bacon—”

“Take this!” Clancy shoved something on Indy’s left ring finger.

“Whoa, whoa!” Indy tried to jerk away. “Hold on—”

It was a ring, silver in color, with some sort of glass bauble full of skinny white flecks.

“Take it. It’s yours now.” Clancy smiled in relief. “You’ll know what to do.”

Indy immediately pulled it off.

Well…