This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Otherwise, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Text copyright © 2025 by Katee Robert

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Amazon Original Stories, Seattle

  www.apub.com

  Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Amazon Original Stories logo are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

  ISBN-13: 9781662534737 (digital)

  Cover design and illustration by Elizabeth Turner Stokes

  To all my monster lovers out there.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  You can do this, Gemma. Just like in training.”

  I shift on my hooves, nervous sweat popping up in places that are only terrifying to me, not the sleeping human whose night I’m about to ruin. “Just like in training,” I repeat. “Easy peasy.”

  Ralph, the demon I’ve spent months shadowing, places a large hand on my shoulder. Most of us demons are shape-shifters by nature, molding our bodies at our whim or to meet a specific demand. Our job, in particular, requires a certain . . . style.

  Ralph embodies it effortlessly. He’s easily ten feet tall, his body a little too lean to support his elongated bone structure. He’s bipedal and vaguely human shaped, but he’s taken his job to heart, and each limb has one joint too many. His fingers have two extra. His skull is similar to a horse’s skull, bare and white and with a long nose, and the deep pools of darkness where his eyes are radiate kindness. “Breathe, Gemma.”

  The tightness in my chest says I haven’t been breathing at all for several long beats. Demons don’t technically need to breathe . . . I don’t think? But I do breathe, and it seems important and no one has ever told me that I shouldn’t do it, so not breathing fills me with panic. I suck in an inhale, choking on the air that rushes into my compressed lungs. “Sorry. I can do this. I know I can do this.” Even if all evidence points to the contrary.

  Normal demons need only about a month of training before they take off on their own, haunting their targets with ease. Normal demons don’t go through three freaking trainers before they land on one who takes pity on them and basically holds their hand through what should be as natural as breathing.

  Except, as evidenced by my constantly forgetting to do it, I’m not that great at breathing either.

  “Gemma.” Ralph clasps my other shoulder, forcing me to look at him and him alone. I know he’s terrifying—I’ve seen humans literally piss themselves when he reveals himself to them—but I want nothing more than to cling to him and beg for a little more time. If I had more time, surely I’d figure out where my natural well of confidence is hiding. Surely . . .

  I hiccup out a sound that’s upsettingly close to a sob. “I can’t do this.”

  “Gemma.” Ralph squeezes my shoulders. There’s no flesh on his hands, so his fingers poke me, but it’s comforting all the same. “You’re ready. You just have to believe it. They’re humans. They jump at shadows, and it’s their spooky season. They’re as primed as they can be to terrorize. They even seek out the scares during this month. Beyond that, you’ve spent a lot of time perfecting your . . . form.”

  The slightest hesitation there. I have to clamp my jaw tight to keep a whimper inside. Even Ralph doubts me. How could he not? Every single time I’ve tried to do this, even with his guidance, I’ve messed it up. I’m a terrible demon, and an even more terrible sleep paralysis demon. Sometimes I can’t even paralyze my humans.

  But I am proud of my form, even if it’s wildly different from Ralph’s. He encouraged me to put my own spin on it, and so I did. I like my bubblegum-pink skin and my gorgeously curving, pale-gray horns and the bright-silver claws that tip my fingers. I made my eyes upsettingly large and just as dark as Ralph’s.

  I take a deep breath, and then another. He’s worked so hard to make me as ready as possible. I can’t let him down. “I can do this?”

  Ralph doesn’t seem to register that I basically just asked him instead of told him. He exhales in relief. “Yes, you can.” He turns me around, nudging me toward the portal that will lead me to my human. My victim. “Now, you’re running out of night. Go.” He unceremoniously shoves me in.

  My stomach drops and my head spins—literally. I pop back into existence in a dark bedroom lit only by a streetlamp shining in the distance. My target left the window open, and a slight, chilly wind flicks the curtains, leaving the room slightly more lit and darker by turns. Changeable is good; changeable I can work with.

  I take a deep breath and slouch a little, allowing the shadows to shield me from view. My human—except he’s not mine, a demon should never be possessive of a human, not when they all belong to the gods, not to us. The only beings who get to be possessive are guardian angels, and no demon takes them seriously. I mean, sure, they’re pretty, with the wings and the holy light and all that, but they can’t actually interfere with much. They just comfort.

  That sounds a lot easier than what I’m about to do, but Ralph is counting on me not to embarrass him.

  I slide soundlessly over the carpet to stand next to the bed and look down at the sleeping human sprawled out on his back. All humans are beautiful in their own way, lit within by that spark of life that burns so hotly, but this one is particularly lovely, with his freckled skin and shock of red hair that I can pick up even with so little light. I catch myself wondering what color his eyes are and force myself to focus.

  First, paralysis. Can’t forget that bit.

  I summon my magic, visualize a net that will prevent the human from moving but won’t stop him breathing. The point is fear, not to actually hurt him. I don’t think I could stomach actually hurting them.

  Once I’m sure I have that down, I move to where he won’t be able to see me without turning his head—which he won’t be able to do—and intentionally set my hoof down loudly enough to startle him awake.

  I know it works when he inhales sharply and makes a low terrified animal noise in his throat, realizing he can’t move. This is the point, the bare minimum of my job, and I have to clench my fists to keep from reaching for him, snap my jaw shut to prevent myself from telling him that he has nothing to fear. Fear is the damned point. Of course he should fear me.

  Every muscle in his body looks carved from stone as he strains against my magic. I lick my lips. Wait, no. That’s not what I’m here for. Gods, my head is all turned around.

  Ralph. Remember Ralph.

  I plant one hand on the bed and lean down, careful to keep out of sight. It’s no effort at all to breath heavily next to his ear. I haven’t stopped the awful panic that rose with Ralph. There’s been no time.

  The man on the bed—my target, my task—lets out another low moan and shakes harder. I bite my bottom lip. I’ve seen all manner of reactions while shadowing Ralph, and while this isn’t out of the norm, I can’t help a sliver of worry. Maybe I should turn him on his side?

  No, no, the net works better when he’s on his back. There’s a reason for the rules. I don’t have to remember the reason in order to remember the rules.

  There’s nothing surprising here. Paralyze. Build tension. Then press him tightly to the bed, sucking down his fear like the finest wine. If I’ve always found fear to be a bit sour? Well, I might be a miserable disaster, but I’m smart enough to keep that to myself.

  I can smell it now, the faint thread of pure terror. It should make me happy. This is what I came here for. Instead, guilt pricks my chest. He was sleeping so soundly, and I’ve ruined it. Even if he falls asleep again once I leave, the night will be tainted by my presence.

  Stop it, Gemma. Stop thinking about stuff that doesn’t matter.

  Frustrated that I can’t turn my brain off as effectively as I can turn off my human’s motor functions, I curse internally and climb onto the bed. The mattress gives beneath my weight, shifting his body, but I’m in motion and I’ve come too far to worry about screwing up this part too.

  And, as much as I hate this, I’m starving. I’ve been existing on Ralph’s overflow for months, and I’m no longer eligible to pull from the community pool. I’m too old, and there’s no good reason I shouldn’t be able to feed myself in the job I was assigned. Thousands upon thousands of other demons manage just fine.

  I shift up and slide onto his chest, finally revealing myself and allowing my weight to press him more firmly against the bed. He’ll feel like he’s suffocating, but I’m careful. He’ll be fine.

  This is where he’ll gasp and the fear will flow, sickly sweet and intense enough to fill me up. It only takes one look at Ralph for his targets to nearly pass out from terror. He’s always glutted, and there’s still plenty left over for his mentee.

  Except this human’s gasp sounds a little strange. Off.

  I peer down at him, pausing to ensure I’m leering in a scary way instead of appearing absolutely terrified myself, expecting to see wide eyes rolling in their sockets. Instead, he’s staring at me and there’s . . . What is that look on his face?

  There’s something there, some emotion I can’t quite grasp, but it’s weak and there isn’t enough to pull forth. Worse, the burst of terror that will chase away my hunger pains doesn’t appear.

  Cursing internally, I lean forward and let him take a little more of my weight. No matter how strangely he’s looking at me, surely the worry about not being able to breathe will accomplish that surge of fear . . .

  A stirring behind me has me twisting to look over my shoulder. My eyes go wide as I see the blanket distend at his waist, rising in a long line and . . . “What the fuck?”

  I know what an erection is. Of course I do. Young demons are educated on all the ways we might be utilized once we reach our majority, and feeding off lust is just as common as feeding off anger or fear or greed. I just had no affinity for it—any of it. I’m too awkward to seduce even the most willing human. I’m terrible at bargaining and inevitably get taken advantage of. Every other department rejected me, which is how I ended up being trained as a sleep paralysis demon. It’s the easiest job. Anyone can do it.

  Anyone except, apparently, me. Because nowhere in the sleep paralysis demon manual was there a section containing “What to Do If Your Human Gets a Boner.”

  He makes a sound that almost resembles a word, but with my magic holding him in place, he can’t speak. It’s good he can’t speak. I don’t need a human telling me that I’m doing a terrible job.

  Desperation rises, the wave so intense that tears prick the back of my eyes. I’m so hungry. Ralph has been weaning me off his leftovers in an attempt to force me into doing this myself, and if I don’t eat tonight, I don’t know what I’ll do.

  I turn back around and get in this human’s face. He’s got the prettiest green eyes, and they’re glassy with some strange combination of lust and fear and flat-out confusion, which is swallowing both the other emotions. I can’t feed on confusion.

  “I’m going to fucking kill you,” I snarl. I wrap my claws around his throat for good measure. Surely this will work, and tip him over the edge and . . .

  He grunts, a surge of pure emotion pouring forth so quickly I have to rush to swallow it down. I’m already grimacing, expecting fear, but it’s . . . spicy? And a little sweet?

  Oh no. No, no, no, no.

  I scramble off his chest as fast as I can. It’s not fast enough to avoid seeing that the tent pole he was sporting has disappeared . . . or that there’s a wet spot in its place. He just orgasmed. When he was supposed to be scared. Because I really am that terrible at my job.

  “Wait.”

  I freeze. In my panic, my magic slipped from my grasp and I didn’t even realize it. He’s free, and he’s sitting up, a blush flaming his pale cheeks, turning them nearly the same color as his freckles. He reaches out a hand. “Just wait. I’m sorry. I could—”

  He’s sorry.

  It’s not possible to die from mortification. I know, because I would perish on the spot. Instead, I’m left standing here as this human apologizes for orgasming, as if this isn’t a perfect demonstration of how inadequate I am. I take one step back and then another. My throat is so tight, I know I’m not breathing, but I can’t seem to break through the thick feeling there.

  “Don’t go. I—”

  It’s too late. The portal opens behind me, triggered by my proximity, and I tumble out of his bedroom and back into the demon realm. I land on my back and gasp in some much-needed oxygen. I don’t remember closing my eyes, but when I open them, it’s to find Ralph’s skull face hovering over mine.

  He’s always grinning, but there’s clear amusement in his tone now. “See. I told you you could do it.”

  He doesn’t know. He didn’t shadow me on this one. It was my first time solo, and all he can tell is that I’m well fed. I open my mouth to confess exactly how wrong it all went, but the words die in the face of his approval. When’s the last time I actually made someone proud?

  I force a weak smile. “Yeah. You told me I could do it.” I’ll do better next time. I have to. I don’t want to disappoint Ralph. More than that, I don’t know what happens to demons who don’t do their jobs well . . .

  Only that they disappear, never to be seen again.

  Chapter 2

  It only takes two days for the hunger to start again. Humans are assigned based on a number of bureaucratical policies—demons love bureaucracy—and the condensed version of it is that seniority is everything and I have none. So I get one human and only one. Initially that knowledge comforted me; I wouldn’t have to go into a bunch of new houses and find out exactly what scares a bunch of new humans.

  That was before him.

  I shift from hoof to hoof in front of the portal. Ralph’s got his own hungers to see to, but he said he’d be here when I’m done. Another thing that seemed great when I first heard it, only for me to realize it’s backfired. I have no one to shove me through the portal, and I can’t seem to make myself take that first step.

  Portals are summoned for their respective demons in little alcoves to provide privacy. I think that’s why? It’s something I’ve been grateful for time and time again, because it’s never a smooth process to talk myself up to taking this first step, even if Ralph is there to lead the way.

  My stomach grumbles, the sound bringing with it a memory of my human’s . . . lust. I want to taste it again. I want to devour it in great, greedy gulps. The problem is that I’m supposed to scare him, and even if I wanted to turn him on, I don’t know how I did it in the first place. Surely I can’t re-create the experience? I definitely shouldn’t want to re-create the experience.

  “Come on, Gemma,” I mutter to myself and surge forward before I can think too hard about moving. The portal spins me to pieces and shoves me unceremoniously back together, dropping me into a now-familiar dark room.

  The window is closed tonight, the air still. Just like before, the human is lying on his back, his arms outstretched in a sure sign of safety. That awful guilt pricks me again, but I make myself move forward to take him in more fully. His blankets are pooled at his waist and tangled around his long legs. One bare foot is exposed, and I stare at his toes for a long moment. I’ve tried to form my own a few times in the past, but toes are so weird, and they always turn out wrong and make it hard to walk. His toes are nice, though—square and creating a neat little stairstep from big to smallest.

  He shifts in his sleep and I freeze. I’m not ready. I don’t have a proper plan, despite thinking about this endlessly for the last forty-eight hours, prodding the memory and wondering where I went so wrong.

  “The net, Gemma.” I don’t mean to speak aloud, and the soft sound of my voice jars him awake. He starts to sit up, but I’m faster, launching my magic at him and freezing him . . . half sitting up. “Fuck.” I drop my head and curse, not even bothering to keep it internal this time.

  He makes a noise that is most certainly not a moan of fear. Even as I tell myself to turn around and leave, I lift my head. He’s staring right at me, his eyes shifting as much as the magic allows. There’s heat in their green depths, the kind of heat that signifies exactly what happened last time. He’s not scared of me. He’s turned on.

  “What is wrong with you?” Without thinking, I wave my hand and shift the magical net around to free his face.

  He works his jaw and swallows visibly. “Um. Hi.”

  “I asked you a question.” I dig frustrated hands into my long mane of purple hair. “You’re supposed to be terrified. A monster is in your room, holding you frozen, and threatening to suffocate you. Normal people would be terrified.”

  “Yeah, probably.” He smiles a little, though he’s gone pale enough that his freckles stand out in stark contrast. “I’m Caleb.”

  “Gemma.” I realize what I’ve done and shake my head sharply. “No. We’re not doing this . . . whatever this is. Go back to bed. I’ll scare you next time.”

  I start to turn away, but his soft voice stops me short. “Probably not.”

  “What do you mean probably not?”

  He’s still watching me as if he wants to memorize every detail, his gaze tracing my body from the tips of my horns down to my cloven hooves. It’s strange to be stared at so intensely. I’m an embarrassment of a demon. I’ve been told as much my entire life.

 

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