After my "practice date" with Cannon, I met a few guys from the dating app, and while none of them held my attention for long, I didn't scare any of them away or send any of them running to the vet to tend to their dying pet reptile. They were all handsome and perfectly nice, but not one intrigued me enough to message for a second date. That didn't really bother me, though, because the one good date I had was the practice—with Cannon.

I finish my after-dinner treat—a bowl of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream mixed with the brownies Meredith brought over this afternoon—and when I pull the dishwasher open to put my bowl in as I promised Jace I would, I groan internally when I see it's full of clean dishes.

If I were at home, all it would take is a snap of my fingers and all of the dishes would be put away in seconds flat. But when I glance over my shoulder, I see that Jace is still sitting on the couch watching the 10:00 news. I can't risk him catching me in the act of using my divine power, so I heave a sigh and begin unloading the dishes the old-fashioned—and normal—way.

When I get to the cups, I open the cupboard and wrinkle my nose. All of them are sitting with the inside exposed to the elements. I peek around the door to make sure he isn't looking and tap my finger to the shelf. In the blink of an eye, they've all flipped upside down. With a satisfied grin, I place the cups from the dishwasher inside the same way.

"Umm, what are you doing?"

I rise onto my tiptoes and slide the last cup into the cupboard before closing it and turning to face the voice. "Unloading the dishwasher so I can put my dirty bowl in. What are you doing?"

"Watching you put the cups in the cabinet the wrong way. You are putting the part that touches my mouth on the bottom," Jace says.

I roll my eyes and place my hands on my hips. "If you leave them right side up, all the dust that floats around in every cabinet is landing inside the cup where you put your drink and then you're drinking it!"

He gives me a pointed glare and his voice is a low rumble as he says, "Desi, put the cups the right way."

You need a place to live, Desi, I tell myself before I lose my temper. "Yes sir," I mutter, turning away from him and opening the cabinet to please the man of the house.

"Thank you," he says, stepping beside me to rinse out his bowl.

I flip the last cup and say in a clipped tone, "Not a problem." I shut the cabinet with a little too much force and flee to my room.

This past week with Jace has been frustrating to say the least. There are times when I feel like I can do nothing right around this man. Granted, tonight, I pissed him off on purpose. But earlier in the week, he's gotten irritated at the tiniest things, like when I didn't fold the blanket over the arm of the couch and left it on the back instead, or when I left a dryer sheet in the dryer. Like, aren't there bigger things for you to worry about?

Not to mention, I feel incredibly creepy about watching him get undressed the other night, half-drunk on tequila or not. That's putting me on edge too. It's just an awkward situation, and I'm disappointed in myself; I promised there would be no drama.

I need to get out of the house and get some air. Cannon is at work, so I'm on my own.

What better place than a nightclub? I just want to get a drink and dance, which Cannon wouldn't want to do anyway.

Slipping a purple, low-cut halter top over my head, I pull my hair over my shoulders and paint myself into my skin-tight jeans. I do a quick smokey eye and highlight my cheekbones, the knee-high boots and leather jacket I'm wearing adding a certain edge to my outfit that I haven't shown on any of my other outings. Maybe it'll keep the boring guys far away and bring on the more exciting options.

When I go downstairs, Jace is nowhere to be found, and I'm glad. I don't want to answer any questions about where I'm going or feel like I'm being scrutinized for my choices.

Thirty minutes later, I'm at a club on the other side of town called Apex Fusion, and after showing the fake ID Lux had made for me and paying the cover charge, I'm ushered inside. The flashing lights, cigarette smoke, and thumping bass consume my senses, and I'm immediately overwhelmed.

The dance floor is crowded, and so is the bar, but I make my way to the bartender rather quickly and order a gin and tonic. Moving to a less crowded area, I lean against a high-top table and sip my drink, watching the couples dance and grind against each other, and my body itches to be on the floor in the midst of them.

A man with quaffed sandy-blond hair leans on my table, his brown eyes slowly skimming over my body. Unlike many of the other men here, he is dressed in a designer button-up and slacks that cling to his muscular thighs. I can almost count the bulging muscles through his clothes. 

"What's a gorgeous woman like you doing watching everyone on the dance floor? You should be out there," he says, flashing me a dimpled smile.

I raise an eyebrow and set down my glass, mirroring his posture and propping my chin in my palm. "Well, maybe I was waiting on you to come ask me," I tease, twirling a curl around my index finger. I know I'm laying it on thick, but this guy looks to be exactly what I'm searching for—not afraid, well put together, and handsome.

"I'm Patrick."

"Desi."

He holds his palm out to me and says, "Would you care to dance, Desi?"

"I'd love to." I abandon my drink and follow him into the crowd.

Patrick places a hand on my waist, and the pulsating bodies press us close. His palm slides down my hip and around to the curve of my ass. The tips of his fingers dig into the plump flesh, urging me forward. Our bodies move to the beat and his leg slips between mine. Leaning in until his lips brush my ear, he says, "You are hands down the hottest girl here."

My breath catches as he puts pressure on the apex of my legs with his thigh. Under different circumstances, I have no doubt it would feel good, but right now, it just feels...gross.

I slide my hands up his chest and gently push against him, putting a little space between us as I mumble a thank you. The dance floor is so crowded that I don't see any easy path away from him at the moment, so I settle for pulling my lower body back so his thigh isn't touching me anymore. But he doesn't seem to take the hint.

He slides his hands under my jacket, roaming freely over my ribcage. The space between us disappears again, and this time, he leans in and rubs his cheek against mine.

"I want to take you back to my place and get you out of these pants."

Anger at his presumption and, as much as I hate to admit it, fear bubble up within me. As a princess of Infernis, I'd always been under a certain amount of protection, not to mention I cannot use all of my strength if I am meant to remain undercover. And I must remain undercover.

I push him with a stronger hand and step away, bumping into the couple behind me. "Please, don't touch me like that. I won't be going home with you," I say, turning away from him in an attempt to exit the dance floor, but he grips my wrist and yanks me back toward him.

"I asked you to dance. You said yes. You wear these tight jeans, low-cut top that shows half your tits, and then you tell me you don't want me to touch you?" he hisses, his mouth against my ear again. "I call bullshit."

I twist my wrist, trying to pull it from his grasp, but he holds tight. "None of those things give you permission to grope me without consent," I snap.

"I'm just dancing with you, sweetheart. Quit overthinking it." He wedges his thigh between mine again, and I swiftly draw up my knee, planting it dead center in the juncture of his legs.

Patrick moans and doubles over, his hand gripping his smashed testicles.

I push through the crowd and run toward the back of the club. A neon blue sign over a hallway reads restrooms. Before I duck inside, I chance a look over my shoulder and see Patrick pushing through the crowd toward me, fury burning in his eyes.

Women stand at the sink playing with their lipstick and finger-combing their hair, but they pay no attention to me as I slip into the last stall and lock it behind me. My heart pounds so hard it makes my stomach churn. I lean against the wall and squeeze my eyes closed while I catch my breath. I've witnessed all kinds of debauchery in over a century of existence, but none of it compares to what that man tried to force upon me.

I can't go back out there; I know he'll be waiting. Fuck, why did I come here by myself? Sliding my hand in my back pocket, I retrieve my phone and stare at the blank screen. I have two people I can call—one is annoyed with me, and one is at work.

I take the more comfortable option and call Cannon, but he doesn't answer.

"Shit," I mumble, firing off a text.

Cannon, I know you're working, but I really need you to answer. I'm in kind of a bad spot and I need your help.

I stare at my phone for a good five minutes, but he doesn't answer. I wait, and wait, and wait, and eventually, I forget where I am and slump onto the toilet, my head in my hands.

There is only one other person I can text, and I really don't want to. Jace and I are hardly friends, and this is sort of a "phone a friend" situation. But Cannon isn't getting back to me.

If I were at home, I would never be hiding in such an undignified way. I'm faster and stronger than a human, yet due to the need to conceal what I really am, I'm reduced to hiding in a bathroom stall like a scared animal.

Fuck.

Maybe Patrick isn't even out there anymore. Maybe he's given up. I start to come out of the stall when I hear two women enter the bathroom talking in hushed tones.

"Did you see that guy out there?"

"Yeah, he looks pissed."

"I think someone kicked him in the balls," she says, stifling a laugh.

"He probably deserved it. That blonde douche looks like one of those guys who thinks he can touch whoever he wants whenever he wants."

"He's clearly posted up waiting for someone..."

Their voices fade as they head back outside, and I close my eyes, taking a deep breath before typing a text to my other roommate.

Jace, are you awake?

He answers back almost immediately.

Yeah...

I swallow over the lump in my throat and tamp down my growing panic.

I need you to come get me...I'm at a nightclub.

The three dots appear at the bottom of the screen and vanish. They start again and just as quickly go away. Several seconds pass before they return followed by a message. Are you drunk or are they kicking you out for flipping all their cups the wrong way?

I stare at my phone for a long moment, unsure of whether to laugh or scream.

Ha ha. You're so funny, are you going on tour with your jokes? No, I'm not drunk, and no I haven't touched their cups. This guy asked me to dance, put his hands all over me, he wouldn't stop when I asked him to, and he wouldn't let me go. I had to basically kick him in the nuts to get away from him...and I know he's waiting outside the bathroom for me because I heard some girls talking about it. He's pissed, and I'm freaked out.

Fuck. Sorry. They cancelled my comedy tour, so I got time to get you.

A couple seconds later, he sends another message.

I just checked your location to put in my GPS. For fuck's sake, Desideria. Apex Fusion is a cesspool of assholes. Stay put. I'll be there in fifteen.

Okay. Thank you.

Why is this so hard? Back home, demons found their partners every day. They do all the things the humans do—dinner dates, dancing, walks in the parks hand in hand, but without the uninvited groping and coma inducing conversations. Humans have always had their issues; I just never expected them to be so distasteful when it comes to dating. Finding a decent human shouldn't be this difficult. I hate to admit it, but maybe I should have tried harder to find a demon to be my partner.

Fifteen minutes later, my phone vibrates in my hand, and I almost drop it in the toilet, I move so fast to unlock it.

Come out of the bathroom, Desi. I'm right outside.

My heart leaps into my throat and I burst out of the stall, washing my hands and opening the door carefully, eyes scanning the area for both the offending male and Jace.

The one I'm happy to see stands right next to the bathroom, just as he said he was, and I have never been more relieved to see another person in my life. He's wearing faded jeans and a half-zip pullover sweater that is the richest shade of burgundy.

All my earlier annoyance with him melts away. "Jace, thank God," I mumble, and before I can stop myself, I'm wrapping my arms around his waist and pulling him to me in a grateful embrace that surprises even me.

He goes stiff under my touch, but my relief won't allow me to let him go. After a few beats, he relaxes and gives me an awkward pat on the back.

"Let's get you out of here," he says.

I nod against his chest and turn away so I can walk, but I keep one arm wrapped around his waist. He doesn't fight me and leads me back through the crowd and out the front door. We walk in silence back to his BMW, and he opens the door for me. I climb in and clasp my hands in my lap, staring out the window as I wait for him to get in.

But even when he does, we stay quiet until we're on the main road back to our house. Finally, he says, "I know you're eager to meet people but you've got to do a little research about the places you're going. From now on, please Google shit, okay?"

I glance at him from the corner of my eye. "I will," I say quietly. "I didn't like it at all, being touched like that...when I didn't want to be."

"You really need to take a friend with you out to bars. Someone to watch your drink and ward off any assholes. That's like woman survival 101. Where the hell have you been living that it was okay to skip out on the dating basics?"

It's right now that I realize I haven't shared anything about my situation with Jace. Each time the conversation about dating turned serious, Jace has dipped out, and I've been left with Cannon. I don't want to lie to Jace, not when he's here and actually asking me questions. I tell him the closest version I can of the truth. "I had no use for 'dating basics.' It's always been a big ordeal to date me because of how intimidating my father is. I've never been on a date before. Well, besides the practice with Cannon the other night."

He keeps his eyes on the road and his hands on the wheel. The large touch screen in the dash casts a dim glow on his face, highlighting the tick in his jaw. I brush my fingertips over the edge of the soft leather seat in an attempt to distract from my embarrassment. I can't figure out if he is annoyed with my inexperience or having to pick me up so late at night. Either way, it's not a good feeling.

Jace's voice is a low timbre as he asks, "I don't understand. Guys date girls with intimidating dads all the time and get over it. What's so different about yours? And why are you so desperate to find a boyfriend now?"

My stomach turns to ice, and I look at him, gauging how much I can tell him, how much he'll believe.

It's becoming clearer and clearer with each passing day that I need a lot of help to get this done. Anytime I've had even a glimmer of success, it's been when he or Cannon has given me advice. When I've gone for it on my own it's been dying lizards and groping douchebags.

"It's a long story. Do you really want to hear it?"

"I asked, didn't I?"

"Fair enough." I let out a breath that rattles my lips, and I decide to start small. "My father is a really powerful man back in my...hometown. And because of that, I have some strict rules I have to follow, and one of those is the terms of my marriage. I know it sounds archaic, and I suppose it is, but it's all I know."

His brows furrow and the streetlights draw dark shadows around his mouth and eyes. "Your father is making you find a husband?"

"Or a wife if that were what I preferred, or a platonic partner, or someone to simply govern beside me, but I will take over my share of his business one day, and to do so, I must have someone to govern with me. My brothers have to abide by the same rule. But I do not wish to simply have a platonic partner by my side. I want to marry for love...and there was no one in my real—hometown who interested me, so I came here. That's why it's so important that I at least make some progress in the next ninety days. I don't have to be in love yet or propose to someone or anything, but I have to at least show him I'm close. And right now, I am no closer than when I stepped through the port—off the plane."

I close my eyes and chastise myself. God, I am never going to be able to keep this a secret. It almost slipped out twice in that one bit of conversation.

"You do realize that you have a choice. If your dad is involved with a cult or strong arming you because of your culture, you can say no. I'm sure Cannon would help me get you out of it if you want help."

I don't know what's worse, me slipping up and telling him I'm from Infernis or him thinking my father is a cult leader. But one thing is clear, he will never understand how important it is that I step up as my circle's leader. It is not only my realm that hangs in the balance, but the potential eternal home of his and every other human's energy.