Page 23 of The Devil and His Goddess (Sinners Do It Better #2)

Perseus

I’D HAD EVERY INTENTION OF letting this go—letting her go. I’d just wanted one last look at her in a private setting, so after leaving the party at the medical facility, I’d shadow-walked to Harper’s and pulled on Coldin’s mask. Only when I got there and saw the front door standing wide open with that disgusting and warped smell of desire coating the air, all excuses and resolve I’d had vanished. All I could think about was her.

When I found that bastard standing over her, my vision went red . I didn’t even know I’d moved. One second I was watching Drake go to strike her, and the next, his throat was being crushed in my hand.

I couldn’t think straight. If I had been clear-headed, I would’ve had enough sense to make sure Drake was dead and unable to sneak away while I was focused on Harper. It didn’t matter in the long run. It was only a matter of time before I caught him and made him pay.

Harper went around the house, making sure every exterior door and window was locked, despite my reassurances that they were. With her own investigation done, she started up the stairs with me on her heels. She locked her bedroom door once we were inside, and while I wanted to dismiss her extreme caution with me around, I understood. She’d just had a man—one she thought she knew—break into her home. It didn’t matter that she had a demon here for protection. Every little shield against that fresh threat mattered.

When she faced me, her head tilted up as she placed her hands on her slender hips. “I have more questions.”

Chuckling at how interrogatory this felt, I held up my hands in mock surrender. “It wasn’t me, Officer. I swear.”

“Funny,” Harper said blandly as her eyes narrowed. “First question. Are all of the members of Sinners Do It Better demons?”

She moved to sit at the head of her bed and leaned against the headboard while pulling a pillow into her lap. I perched on the side of her mattress and faced her.

“They are,” I answered honestly. Pursing my lips, I asked my own question. “Is that when you found out? When you saw the band poster downtown?”

“Yeah. I wouldn’t have given much merit to the thought, but when I saw the mask … the coincidence was too much for me to ignore. I still wasn’t certain that night, but the more I thought about it this week, the more I became convinced it was you.”

I sighed and looked up at the ceiling. I’d chosen to use Coldin’s mask out of pure laziness. It was readily available to me, already fitted for horns, and wouldn’t be familiar to Harper, given that she wasn’t a fan. With my belief that she wouldn’t care enough about me to go searching for photos, I didn’t worry about her discovering who I was.

My mistake.

My tongue itched to ask her what her initial reaction was when she realized it was me. Was it an immediate feeling of betrayal, or was she happy to learn it had been me all along? I kept myself from begging the question. I shouldn’t care. I didn’t care. Even if the voice in the back of my head called me a liar.

“So you’re an Incubus?” Harper asked slowly.

I nodded.

“What kind of powers do you have?”

I smirked. “You’ve seen a couple of them.”

Her cheeks turned a nice little pink color, and she forced a cough into her fist. “Right. So you can control shadows and stuff?”

“And stuff,” I repeated, unable to keep my cheeky grin hidden.

If she asked for specifics, I’d answer her honestly without hesitation, but there was no fun in freely divulging the answers.

Her blue eyes pinched slightly at the corners as she looked me over. “I can’t believe it was really you all those times.” Those same eyes suddenly widened, and she stammered, “Y-You took a photo of me when …”

I immediately knew the instance she was referring to, and with a snicker, I pulled my phone out to show her the screensaver. “You mean this?”

Harper’s cheeks and ears flamed the same shade of red as the pajama shirt that was shoved up in the photo. I still loved opening my phone to find her forever frozen in time, bound by my shadows, covered in cum, and fighting against the dildo.

She tried to snatch the phone, but I quickly pulled it out of reach with a chuckle. “Not happening. It’s mine. Who knows? I might even get it framed to hang over my fireplace.”

She huffed and leaned back with a glare trained on my face. “I want to say you wouldn’t dare, but I know you absolutely would.”

“You know me so well.”

She pursed her lips and studied me before adding, “You’ve always been an asshole. Like that night you turned me on then just left during the party.”

My mouth dropped. “ Me ? You’re the little tormentor who taunted me first. I was merely returning the favor.”

In all actuality, that night had been torture. Watching her dance on another man but doing it for me. Seeing her lead him to her room and knowing the gift she’d be giving him. I’d only meant to watch and make her squirm with my presence, but when she’d let out that soft plea, it was like my body was no longer my own.

I was her puppet, happily following the strings on which she tugged. I’d kissed her without thinking, and as the night went on, something inside of me responded strongly to her, yearning for each and every pull she gave on my strings.

Clearing the uncharacteristic thoughts from my head, I waited and hoped that she’d redirect the conversation to safer topics.

Thankfully, she did.

“What made you start coming to me masked?”

“I read your fantasies,” I explained. “One of your many kinks is masked men coming after you. Safely , obviously. So I delivered.”

Her eyes widened, and the crimson splattering across her cheeks intensified. “Y-You know all of my fantasies?”

“It is what I’m made for,” I quipped, tilting my head to the side. “I can read everyone’s fantasies, kinks, and what gets them hot, which then helps me to seduce and satisfy.”

The more I talked, the more her eyes glazed over with lust. Seeing the expression take over, I leaned closer. I wanted to sketch the picture of her desire into my memory, as if it wasn’t already embedded in my very being.

Suddenly, she blinked and looked at the pillow in her lap. “You wrote a demon romance ballet.”

I faltered at the abrupt shift in topic before realizing she was probably redirecting to safer waters again.

“It’s more than a demon romance,” I clarified. “But yes, I did. They say write what you know, right?”

She looked up at me with a small smile. “I guess demons and romance are your expertise.”

“Hell yeah they are.”

The night went on like that. Harper would ask whatever curiosity came to her mind, and I’d answer. She was particularly fascinated by demons and how the big man in Hell created us in an instant for whatever purpose he needed. Not all of her questions were about demons or Hell. She also asked about me—where I’d lived throughout my long life, stories from each time period, all of the ballets I’d seen in my lifetime.

I’d never talked about myself so freely and without having to hide anything. No one had ever asked or cared enough to want to know me . Yet she nestled lower onto the bed and listened with rapt attention. Her warm eyes and soft smile spurred me to open the floodgates, confessing anything and everything she wanted to know—good times, hard times, and everything in between. She poked fun at me, got angry on my behalf, and laughed along with me.

The sound of her glee was like a blazing comet, crashing right into my chest and lighting me up inside. I soaked in the sound and watched every expression on her face, only going silent when her eyes fluttered shut and her lips parted in sleep.

I swallowed hard and couldn’t bring myself to move just yet. The longer I watched her, the tighter the lump in my chest grew, and that was when I knew.

I could never give her up.

I was stupid to think this was nothing—that she was nothing. All of the uncomfortable feelings floating around my chest when she was around meant something.

Did I know exactly what that something was?

I had a hunch, even if the rational part of my demon brain tried to dismiss it as impossible.

All I did know was that she was mine.

And even more important … I was hers.

I GATHERED AROUND ZAGAN’S KITCHEN with the rest of the band. Xander and I leaned against the island while Zagan and Dante rested their backs against the counter across from us. Coldin sat silently on the corner of the counter, leaning his head against the upper cabinets.

We were looking over the public’s reaction to our cover-up story of Iyla and Zagan’s rumored relationship. Thankfully, people seemed to buy it, and our popularity had skyrocketed in the day following the publication.

Bad boys caring about the sick?

We’d gained some new major supporters after that.

It had been two days since the party, which meant two days since Drake broke into Harper’s. He’d shown no signs of returning since then, but I told Harper that didn’t matter. The only reason I’d left her place this morning was because Addie, Iyla, and Eden had invited her to join them for a day of shopping. Apparently, they’d hit it off during the house party.

“One of Leo’s ideas panned out,” Xander noted with a snicker as he shoved his hands into the pocket of his dark purple hoodie. “Color me shocked.”

“Right?” Zagan said as he continued thumbing through the photos taken that night with a grin.

The lead singer paused every so often to study images, and even screenshotted a couple. Normally, I would’ve given him shit and asked to see what they were of, but I let it go. For once, I understood keeping some things close to the chest. It was easier to keep them safe there.

“What’s up?” Xander asked as he gently nudged my arm.

Plastering on a smile, I cocked my head. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve not said much today,” he pointed out as he narrowed his dark eyes. “This is also the first time you’ve smiled.”

“You keep up with how much he smiles?” Dante asked with a quirk of his brow.

Xander shot him an obvious look. “He’s my best friend. Of course, I notice that shit.”

“Favoritism,” Zagan commented in mock offense.

“Shut up,” Xander fired back. “You know you and Dante are closest, just like Pers and I are.”

Dante and Zagan looked sideways at each other and snickered at the same time. They couldn’t deny the truth in those statements. Xander and I went way, way back, just like the two of them did. We were all friends, but we shamelessly had one we were slightly closer to.

Except Coldin.

He wasn’t close to any of us.

I glanced at the Letum demon where he sat against the kitchen cabinets, twirling a drumstick through his fingers. His expression never changed, nor did he comment. I wasn’t even sure he was listening to us.

“Back to what’s wrong,” Xander said pointedly.

Every pair of eyes except one zeroed in on me. Uncomfortable by the attention, I leaned my forearms on the kitchen island and fiddled with the large gargoyle ring on my pointer finger.

“You guys know Harper,” I hedged.

Zagan’s pierced lips widened into a knowing grin. Thankfully, he didn’t comment.

“Sure, sure,” Xander answered.

“Your prized ballerina,” Dante confirmed with a nod of his head.

“Yeah,” I replied, moving on to the signet ring on my middle finger. I spun it around and around as I continued, “A guy broke into her place on Friday. I made it there before he did anything, but I got … distracted. He got away.”

“Isn’t she out with your wife, Zagan?” Xander asked our leader with a teasing smirk.

Zagan’s jaw ticked, but he ignored the guitarist’s comment. “She’s okay, right?”

“She’s shaken up, but yeah.” I stopped toying with my ring in favor of raking my hand through my long hair. “I just hate that I let him get away. Though, I don’t anticipate him returning. What human would want to face a monster like us?”

“He saw you?” Xander asked.

I nodded, knowing he meant in my demonic form rather than my human one.

“She’ll probably be safe then, dude,” Xander agreed, pulling his hands out of his hoodie to pat my shoulder. “Humans are pussies. If he knows what you are, there’s no way he’d try to come near her again.”

I blew out a stressed breath, but I agreed. Most humans understood where they fell on the power scale. There was nothing he could do against someone like me, so with me there to protect her, he was powerless.

Dante stepped toward the island and matched my pose to lean closer. “Are you planning on dealing with him?”

“As soon as I find him.”

Dante rubbed at the dark stubble on his brown chin. “Too bad you don’t have a connection to track him by.”

The connection he referred to allowed demons to shadow-walk straight to a particular person. Traveling to a physical place, like I’d done to find Harper at her house that first night, was easy and required no real relationship to it. Humans were a different story. Depending on the demon, there were different ways to form connections that provided that easy access to the mortal. For Incubi, connections were formed via sex or tasting their sexual essence through blood, saliva, cum, or sweat. With that, we could find that person—anywhere, anytime.

“I wouldn’t want a connection with that fucker,” I growled through gritted teeth. I let out a heavy sigh and hung my head. “I didn’t mean to unload this on you guys. It isn’t your problem.”

“Is it yours ?” Dante shot back with another raise of his brows.

I opened my mouth, only to have my words get caught in my throat. I wanted to yell that of course it was, but admitting to that fact would be like admitting so much more in the process.

Harper’s problems were my problems.

It was true. I couldn’t deny that, but … how could I admit that out loud to these guys?

My eyes swung to Zagan, who shamelessly wore a shit-eating grin. I didn’t even need to ask why he smiled or what he was thinking. It was crystal clear.

Your turn to get ganged up on, fucker.