I Knocked Up Satan S | Daughter A Demonic Romantic

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

The Horns of a Dilemma

"You knocked up my daughter," he said. Not a question. A death sentence. I Knocked Up Satan S Daughter A Demonic Romantic

A pause. Somewhere, a billion damned souls screamed in harmony. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to

You know what? It's not all bad. Her dowry is a small principality in the Seventh Circle, and she makes a mean grilled cheese. Plus, when we tell our kid the story of how they were conceived, it'll beat the hell out of "we met at a grocery store." Not a question

Her name was Lilith—or "Lil" for short, which should have been my first red flag. She had eyes like twin voids and a smile that promised eternal damnation in the best possible way. When she walked into the dive bar, the jukebox switched from Johnny Cash to Bauhaus on its own. The neon sign above the pool table flickered and spelled out DIE for a solid three seconds before going back to BEER .

"Bring me the baby shower registry by Friday," he growled. "And it better not have any of that pastel, woodland-creature nonsense. I want black lace, obsidian rattles, and a onesie that says 'Daddy's Little Apollyon.'"