I Knocked Up Satan S Daughter A Demonic Romantic -

I wouldn't trade it for anything.

Two drinks later, the dark wasn't so scary. Four drinks later, her tail—yes, tail —was wrapped around my calf under the table. I figured it was a costume. A very committed goth thing. I Knocked Up Satan S Daughter A Demonic Romantic

So here I am. Thirty-two years old. Unemployed. About to become the father of the Antichrist's half-sibling. Lilith is currently in the other room, eating pickles dipped in Nutella, crying because she saw a commercial for a puppy. Her halo—which she swears she stole from a cherub in a bar fight—keeps flickering on and off. I wouldn't trade it for anything

I was a nobody. A bass player in a band that couldn't get a gig at a funeral. But that night, she slid into the booth across from me, her shadow moving a full second after she did, and whispered, "You look like a guy who's never been afraid of the dark." I figured it was a costume

"I—sir—Mr. Morningstar—it was consensual?"

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go build a crib that doubles as a summoning circle. The instructions are in Aramaic.

It started, as most catastrophes do, with cheap tequila and a full moon the color of a fresh bruise.