Page 19 of The Devil and His Goddess (Sinners Do It Better #2)

Perseus

THERE WAS NO ONE AT the end of the alley. At least, not by the time I got there. If I had to guess, the person who’d been there had darted off—whether because they were sheepish after stumbling onto people fucking around in the open, or because they saw my less-than-normal appearance—knocking over the trash cans in the process. So in the time it took me to realize someone was there, snap Harper’s bindings, and merge into shadows to investigate in secret, the person was already gone.

And it was a person.

Their sexual frustration and potent desire clouded the air at the end of the alley like a gasoline spill. The scent was sour and strong, making my stomach twist with nausea, which didn’t happen often.

Sexual desire and pleasure was fucking exquisite, dancing on the senses like the sweetest flavor a person could imagine.

Unless something truly wicked lined those desires. That sick darkness often overwhelmed the decadence of the pleasure, distorting the smell and taste for Incubi like me.

Whoever had been here had foul cravings, and I didn’t like the idea of this unknown peeper being in the same area as Harper. Needing to make sure nothing happened to her, I walked through shadows until I caught up to her. She speed walked to her car and hopped in, peeling out of her parking spot. Only once I watched her get safely inside her house from my shadowy veil outside did I finally vanish to reappear in my own.

I slipped Coldin’s mask off and tossed it on the couch in my music room before raking a hand through my golden curls and black horns. I braced my hands on my hips and stared at the white carpet, my muscles straining as I worked to calm down.

My raging hard-on refused to give up.

Harper.

She fucking wanted me.

I mean, I already knew that based on her scent. Even if I wasn’t an Incubus who could know a person’s desires with a mere inhale, it would be obvious from our interactions. But to hear her actually say it out loud, to hear her plead my name …

A shiver traveled down my spine, landing like a hot, delicious weight right on my cock. Unable to take it anymore, I sank down on the couch, freed my aching dick, and fisted it. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back with my free arm draped along the back of the couch, too.

Harper’s scent—a rich, sophisticated smell with a hint of sweetness—lingered in the cushions of the couch. I breathed it in deeply and let the memory of her wrap around me in the most intoxicating and delirious high. I wanted to cocoon myself in her essence, existing in and through my goddess.

“Harper,” I moaned as I continued to pump my cock with my fist.

I envisioned, not my hand, but her . Those pink lips wrapped tightly around my dick. Her head sinking lower to swallow up the shaft, only for her to look up at me through those dark lashes, purposefully driving me wild.

While this particular fantasy was still just that—a fantasy—I planned on rectifying that soon.

“Want some help?”

I was so lost in the moment, picturing Harper sucking me off and breathing in her scent, that I didn’t hear anyone come in until Dante’s teasing voice cut through the air.

I didn’t stop the up and down stroke of my cock, even as I slowly peeled my eyes open to look up at Dante and Xander, who stood just inside my music room.

“I got it,” I answered breathlessly as I neared my breaking point.

“Hurry,” Xander complained, running a hand over some music sheets on the table next to him. “We have errands to run. If you’re horny, we can find some humans to fuck with after we’re done.”

The only human I had an interest in fucking with was currently at home, probably lamenting over the panic of nearly being caught in public with me. Just remembering how good it felt to have my fingers buried in her sweet pussy or how her tongue felt sliding over mine sent me hurtling over the edge. I came hard, the hot substance coating my fingers and pants.

“Great,” Xander chirped sarcastically with a roll of his eyes. “You finished. Let’s go now.”

Dante handed me some tissues wordlessly as I passed a look between my two band mates.

“Go where?” I asked.

“We have to get suits for this stupid press stunt, remember?” Dante grumbled, crossing his muscled arms over his chest.

I finished cleaning up and tucked myself away as I remembered the upcoming event. This Friday, the band was going out to some treatment facility that Iyla’s little sister was a patient at. While the five of us band members were demons, that didn’t make everything about existing in the human world easier.

Exhibit A—social media.

Zagan, like the rest of us, was famous, and he’d been spotted multiple times in the public with Iyla. Our fans ran wild with the sightings and spun a narrative that Zagan was “cheating” on them by having this secret relationship with her.

Both suggestions were ludicrous, but they were rumors nonetheless. To do some damage control, our group had to pose for some choice photos and appear at the health facility to disperse the talk of a relationship in favor of Zagan simply helping a fan and her sick sister.

With a sigh, I stood up. “Fine. But I’m good on the fucking after.”

Xander and Dante both stared at me like I’d grown a second head. They exchanged a look only for Dante to place a hand on my shoulder and ask, “Are you sick?”

I shrugged his hand off with a chuckle. “Don’t be dumb. You know we can’t get sick. I’m just not feeling up to it.”

“You were just jerking off,” Xander argued with a narrowing of his eyes.

I couldn’t dispute that, so instead, I ignored him. “Are we going to get suits or not?”

The two looked like they wanted to argue some more but, thankfully, they didn’t. With a quick step through shadows, we appeared in New York and left my Harper-saturated thoughts behind.

THE LARGE ROOM BUSTLED WITH life, which was interesting considering so much sickness filled it. Kids and teens with varying illnesses, injuries, and ailments gathered in the dimly lit room with their families. I couldn’t believe how many fans we had among this demographic, but I treated them as sweetly as I would any other fan.

Minus the flirting and seductive charm.

I finished greeting another horde of teenage girls and downed an entire plastic cup of unsweetened lemonade. The lifeless flavor didn’t do anything to alleviate the edge I’d had all week.

Silverlight had finished its first full week of rehearsals and prep for both upcoming productions, and I’d been managing both shows and their respective dancers. There was so much behind the scenes work that went into getting a ballet ready for the stage, and that didn’t leave me near as much time to see Harper as I would’ve liked.

The moments I did see her though were … interesting.

Harper had been avoiding me.

The day following our nearly fucking in an alley, I thought I was imagining things when Harper suddenly left a room that I entered at work. When I caught her squinting at me from across a room only to whip around and pretend I wasn’t there, I thought I was making something out of nothing. Every time we made eye contact that she didn’t avoid, her gaze would turn both appreciative and studious, which I found odd. Again, I figured I was reading too much into it.

But the next day, too?

And the next ?

By the time today came and I’d only gotten a handful of words from her—all of which ended with sir —I was positive that it wasn’t all in my head.

She’d seemingly been searching me cautiously from a distance, looking for some answer. While it could’ve been her searching for the courage to give into her desires, I had a feeling it was something else entirely.

I saw that window poster she’d been staring at when I showed up masked on Monday night. Our band poster did me no favors in concealing my identity when I visited her while disguised.

Harper wasn’t a fan of Sinners Do It Better. I knew she could always look us up to see pictures or videos of me, but honestly, I hadn’t expected her to care enough to. So I never anticipated her seeing Coldin’s mask or me in my demonic form, allowing her to potentially put two and two together.

Were those things enough to make her figure out the truth?

I didn’t know, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to find out, which was why I hadn’t paid her any more visits this week or lingered around the studio to catch her attention.

For some reason, the thought of Harper discovering her masked fantasy demon was me made my nerves spiral. When I came to her in that form, there was a sort of shield between us, a sense of freedom that existed. She could give in and enjoy her pleasure with him, because he was this other-wordly being with no risk or realness to him.

If she realized it was me, that easy-going bliss fizzled away with reality. Suddenly, she’d see the masked demon for who he really was—the man she’d been denying and keeping away all this time.

Would she still feel a desire to give into the fantasy if she put a face and name to him?

Would putting a face and name to him make it all the more real, hitting home the fact that I , Perseus Mavros, was a demon ?

What if she hated me and didn’t want anything to do with me afterward?

The thought served to make my stomach churn, and I quickly expelled all thoughts of Harper from my mind by refilling the tasteless lemonade and gulping it down. With a heavy sigh, I joined Zagan, the rest of the band, some staff, and Iyla and her sister by the windows for some photos. I smiled for each flash of the camera, though I wasn’t sure if the grin was on par with my typical smile. How could it be with a certain someone trying to snake her way into my thoughts?

The photos ended, and Iyla left the group to follow her little sister to the refreshment table. Zagan, eyes locked on Iyla, started to follow. I was eager to distract myself from my own troubles, so I decided to get involved in his.

“Don’t,” I said quietly, stepping into his path. “Don’t make this entire night be for nothing. If you go chasing after her all evening, people are going to see what you’re trying to hide.”

Zagan stared icily at me. “And what am I trying to hide?”

I chuckled, not buying his attempt at feigning ignorance. “Your infatuation with that human.”

I’d seen it. We’d all seen it. Zagan was drawn to his human bond, and it wasn’t just because of said bond. There was more in his eyes when he looked at her. More in how he spoke to her. More in how he seemed to exist while around her.

Zagan dropped his dark head like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’re one to talk, considering your latest obsession.”

The air moving in my lungs immediately got stuck, and I clenched my teeth as Harper once again occupied my thoughts. “That’s different. Mine is a game. It’s not real. Yours is.”

Even as the words left my mouth, I wanted to snatch them from the air and shove them back in. Who was I trying to convince—Zagan or myself? Calling Harper a game left a sour taste in my mouth, and that reaction made me feel worse, because I didn’t understand why .

She was a lowly human, just like every other mortal I’d ever toyed with. I enjoyed teasing her and feeding off of her pleasure. I enjoyed our back and forth and the ever-present question of, “will we, won’t we.” It was fun and amusing for me, which was all that should’ve mattered as it had in the past.

So what if that stopped? What if I never saw Harper’s smile again?

The thought made my palms clammy and made my heart race with dread.

“What’s wrong with me?” I mumbled under my breath.

Harper was just a human. She didn’t matter more than any other source of amusement ever had. She held no power over me.

None.

I didn’t need her.

I didn’t want her.

And I’d prove that tonight by destroying what we had going.