Page 18 of Angels Don’t Date

He raised a brow. “Honestly? You wouldn’t believe it.” He leaned close and murmured, “I’m trying to find my soul’s mate.”

I blinked at him. “You’re right. I don’t believe that. You honestly came here thinking that I’d be your soulmate?”

“Not you. I’m getting exposure so my soul’s mate can find me and rescue me from the misery of my existence.”

I laughed. “That’s funny.”

His smile was absolutely charming. “Hilarious. I laugh myself to sleep every night. You see, there was a curse. I won’t bother you with the details, but it seems I’ll die if I don’t find my soul’s mate soon.”

I stopped laughing. “You’re serious.”

“Unfortunately. Of course, I don’t take dying very seriously, so it’s not as bleak as it could be. Enjoy your time playing with angels. There’s something so compelling about the two of you. I know that I’m going to be tuning in to see how things develop.”

He spun me under his arm and then danced so well and so elaborately that I had to put all of my focus on his lead so I didn’t fall over and knock myself unconscious. It was disastrous enough that the angel wasn’t going home. I didn’t need a concussion to go along with it.

The camera panned the men. After Pearly White’s, “Until next week!” the music cut off suddenly.

The devil frowned, but brought us to a stop. “He’s terribly abrupt. And he complains about us not being able to show appropriate emotion when he’s eternally cutting every moment short. I suppose I’d best be on my way. Stay safe, Princess. And enjoy your life as long as you have it.” He winked, put a top hat on his head that he hadn’t been wearing and strode out of the hall, throwing the double doors wide as he went with one final lash of his forked tail before he vanished in a cloud of smoke.

“He wanted to be voted off, or he would have saved some of that drama for the audience,” Richard the Lion said, directly behind my shoulder.

I stiffened up before I turned slowly to look up at him. “Certainly. You give the audience all the drama and never save anything for yourself.”

His lips twitched as he brushed the white rose across them, white silk against pink satin. “On the contrary, princess. I have more drama than you could ever dream of. Pray you never live to see such drama.” He brushed the white rose over my cheek, velvet petals sending a shiver through me before he turned and walked away.

“If you actually want him off the show, you can’t look at him like that,” Monterose the fairy said, dragging my attention off the retreating angel. He frowned at me, his accent not as strong as it usually was. “You can’t look at him with stars in your eyes. Love is a play. You play who you love. Yes?”

I flashed a smile at him while my stomach twisted from embarrassment. “Thank you. I’ll keep the stars in the sky where they belong. When would you like to do another duet with me?”

“Ah, but I couldn’t until all the other gentlemen have sung. It wouldn’t be fair.” He edged away from me, all smiles, the rose pinned to his lapel.

My heart sank. He didn’t really like me, or he’d jump at the chance to do a duet. I swallowed hard and held onto my smile. “I suppose that will be next week’s contest.”

His eyes sparkled magically. “I believe that’s baking. Such a charming idea.” He bowed, turned and disappeared, like he didn’t want me to get too close. Also like he had things to post on his platform. Maybe he’d do a solo about how he longed for my love. That would get a lot of hits.

I went outside and then sat down on the steps, the stars above mocking me. The stars were beautiful, but not as beautiful as the angel. Who was staying for at least another week. It wasn’t enough for me to want him to go. Somehow I had to convince the audience that’s what they wanted. And I had to do it without getting killed. Or killing him. That would be the most difficult thing of all.

Chapter

Seven

Pearly White flashed his smile at the camera from his place in the kitchen near the door, so you could see all the contestants behind him at the counters or table. “And now for the baking competition! Who will delight our princess’s tastebuds? Hm? They say the way to a woman’s heart is through the stomach. Will it be our werewolf, Hughenot Raferty, and his way with lean meatcakes…” The camera panned to the place where Rafe was tenderizing steak with a spiked mallet. “Or will the incubus Banus Jones steal the day with his molten lava cake?” The camera panned to Banus’ mixing batter in a bowl looking all sensual and delectable. Whatever cake he made, he’d get voted as being most delicious.

“Or will the fairy, Monterose Fellicci with his spun sugar delights win another red rose from our princess?” The camera panned to the fairy who had a canister of sugar in one hand and a mixer in the other. His smile was romantic and sultry, like he was about to burst into song. “Or will our elf Zander Spinnera create a vegan masterpiece tempting enough to outdo all the rest?”

The silver-haired elf smiled and added, “It’s also gluten and sugar free.” It’s like he was trying to lose.

Pearly White backed away from the elf without giving him another look. The camera panned over to the angel where he worked smashing strawberries in a saucepan. “And the rejected angel, can he show the world he’s more than a soldier? Does he have a heart that can love?”

Richard gave Pearly White a devastating smile, the sun coming through the window to catch his hair like a halo. “Baking doesn’t take heart, just baking powder. Also, for those who are unaware, six months is the max shelf life for optimal rise. So clear out your cabinets regularly. Only you can prevent fallen angel cakes.” He winked and my heart fluttered stupidly.

The camera swung over to me where I sat on a stool in my fluffy pink dress, as fluffy as pink buttercream frosting. I smiled brightly and tried not to look like I cared. But to be honest, the angel was the only one who looked like he knew what he was doing, and his forearms while he mixed his batter or smashed his berries were irresistible. Particularly the left one. The one I’d buried my face into as I drank his blood.

I forced myself to look around at the other men. Banus was so attractive and capable looking, but then he dropped his batter-covered spoon on the floor, splashing his pants and Rafe’s legs. The werewolf was wearing shorts that showed off his bare calves, which he also must keep waxed. For a werewolf he was an absolute freak.

“Watch yourself, Inky!” Rafe snapped, then flashed a sharp smile at the camera.

I should take up crochet so I had something to do in the middle of the kitchen while everyone moved around with so much testosterone in that small space. Not that the kitchen was small, but the angel alone took up most of it with his energy. The elf hummed as he worked on the other side of Banus, serenity etched on his face as he sniffed a sprig of mint and then added it to his bowl. Was he even trying to make something edible?