Page 8 of The Devil and His Goddess (Sinners Do It Better #2)

Perseus

I KEPT MY FACE BLANK, which was a lot fucking harder than it should’ve been. But goddamn, Harper was too beautiful. Her black hair framed her pale face, and an equally dark leotard hugged her frame. Over it, she wore maroon sweats and a cardigan. Seeing her in her everyday ballet clothes made my dick twitch in my slacks. I had to shove my hands in my pockets to hide my hard-on as I walked into practice room four where she stood alone.

Her hands were clasped behind her back, and she fidgeted on her feet. Despite her clear nerves, her blue eyes held mine with a sort of determined resignation. She probably thought I was here to fire her, and maybe another sort of artistic director would’ve. But I wasn’t them. I was here to do the exact opposite.

I gestured at her feet and ordered, “Put on your pointe shoes.”

Her dark brows furrowed. “What?”

I waltzed to the front of the room where the mirrors were, leaning on them the same way I did when I showed up at her place in my demonic, masked form. Whether or not she noticed the similarity, I wasn’t sure. Regardless, her eyes traced my stance.

“You heard me, Harper. Pointe shoes. On.”

She licked her lips, and after only hesitating a moment longer, she turned and went to her dance bag. Her ass was fucking perfect as she bent over to grab the shoes, and I had to bite back a groan. Holy Hell, I was fucking ready to bend that pretty ass over and fuck her into oblivion.

Ever since that night I’d made her dance for me, I’d been like a beast squeezed into too-tight of a space. I was restless and tense. I needed released from this prison. I needed her —her lips on mine, her pussy wrapped around my cock, and her moans filling my ears. I kept telling myself “in due time,” but fuck , I was getting impatient, which was new for me.

With her pointe shoes on, she stood and met my gaze again. “Perseus, I—”

“No talking,” I ordered. I gestured to the middle of the floor and finished, “I want you to dance.”

Her lips parted like she was going to argue, but instead, she just nodded once. She started to grab her hair to pull the strands back, and while ballerinas were always required to have their hair up while rehearsing and dancing, I didn’t give a damn about that right now.

“Forget your hair,” I said, making her freeze. She slowly let the black locks fall, and I fought against the urge to smile. She was being so obedient right now, though I knew it was because she assumed she was on the chopping block. So for the time being, she’d do what I asked without argument in an effort to win any favor from me that she could.

I went over to the stereo and pressed play. Really, there was no music queued up, but she didn’t know that. The song I envisioned, the piece created for one of the big solos in Dancing in the Dark , came on over the speakers.

This ballet wasn’t one I’d written in the short time since I’d been here. The music had been a huge collaboration with Zagan over time. He knew I loved ballet, and as a way to have some fun, we’d created this haunting, beautiful, and powerful score that I then developed a story and choreography around. While it had just been a fun pastime for me at the start, this was my soul now.

Or at least, as much of a soul as a demon like me could have.

This particular piece was Psyche’s grand performance in the third act, the one where she was finally healed from her past and embracing her dark beauty as a ballerina. It was dramatic, romantic, and sensual.

Turning back to Harper, I slowly stalked toward her and gestured at her with a wave of my hand. “Dance.”

“I don’t know this routine or—”

“I don’t want you to do a routine,” I cut her off. “I want you to hear the music and dance . Show me the story you hear.”

I continued my slow walk around her, studying her from every angle as her attention seemed to shift from me to the music overhead. I came to a stop by the mirrors, and I held my breath as my goddess began to move.

She was unhurried in her movements. She didn’t try to force anything, but instead, she let the music guide and determine how she moved her arms, when she turned and leaped, and how she carried herself across the floor. Her mouth was set in an almost melancholic frown at the start, but as the piece grew stronger, so did she. Her hunched shoulders became straighter and proud. Her eyes and lips lifted in a subtle smile, and like a moth to a flame, I went to her.

She finished a flawless pirouette, and I swooped in to snag her by the waist, pulling her close. Her blue eyes locked on mine, but she didn’t stop. She continued, now using me as her partner— trusting me—as the music led us through a story all our very own.

I held onto her and aided in her grand movements. I gripped her waist firmly as she bent with both arms held out on either side of her. En pointe, she let her other leg rise up in the air behind her. I followed the motion, going down on a knee as her leg extended higher and higher, and her face inched closer and closer. By the time she was fully-extended with arms held out gracefully and leg straight in the air with me beneath her, our noses grazed, and our lips were separated by mere centimeters.

Even as I straightened while she returned to both feet, our eyes stayed locked and faces close. I followed her turn, and when I felt her body preparing to leap, I gripped her waist tighter. She pushed off from the ground, and I raised her high into the air, holding her above me as she smiled into a non-existent crowd with a delicate arm reaching out and legs bent at the knee in a beautiful arch.

Knowing the music was closing, I gradually lowered her, and she looked down at me as I brought her back to her feet. Her body came to a halt when pressed against mine, so I felt every breathy inhale and exhale against my torso. I didn’t release her hips even as the music ended, and her own hands had moved to grip the shirt at my waist, almost tugging me closer, despite there being no room left between us.

She was right there. Her mouth hovered inches under mine. I could easily tilt my head ever so slightly to catch those rosy lips. It would bring me one step closer to claiming her.

But before I could, she spoke.

“I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful.”

Still reeling from the intoxicating effects of seeing her dance—Hell, of feeling her dance—my dumbass couldn’t compute what she was saying. “What?”

She swallowed hard, and those blue eyes glanced at my mouth before meeting my gaze again. “I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful for the role you gave me.”

Ah.

Before I could open my mouth, she plowed on. “I-I was the lead in Swan Lake for the past two years. I made the stupid assumption that I’d get the role again this year, so when I didn’t, I thought it was your way of saying I’d regressed. That I wasn’t good enough to be your Odette and Odile like I had been for the previous director.”

I watched her slender throat work on another swallow as her eyes finally fell to the ground, and she stepped just out of reach.

“That’s not what I intended at all,” I reassured her quietly.

She nodded but didn’t look up. “I know. I mean, I’m still a principal dancer. To be honest, that part didn’t really register until after I’d left. Up until then, all I’d heard was, ‘You aren’t as good as you once were.’” Her blue eyes finally met mine again, and they glistened with remorse. “That was wrong of me. I’m truly so sorry for disrespecting the decision you made and the ballet you created. I swear, that really wasn’t my intention.”

Her apology was appreciated but not necessary. I wasn’t like people she’d worked with in the past. For one, I was a demon , and we tended to view things much differently than humans. What she thought was a blow to my pride was actually just another log being added to the fire that was my current obsession with her. Her reaction gave me another excuse to get her here alone, and thank Hell for that, because I craved to see her dance at every available opportunity.

Still, her apology was sincere, and being a forgiving creature of the dark, I decided to shed some light on my decision to cast her as Psyche in Dancing in the Dark instead of as Odette and Odile in Swan Lake .

“ Swan Lake has been done before,” I started. “Everyone knows what they’re getting when they come to see it. It is beautiful and an experience worth seeing. But Dancing in the Dark has never been seen. It’s never been done. The audience doesn’t know what experience or story they’re getting. It’s a clean slate for a group of dancers to make their own. That’s why I chose you and those who I believe to be the strongest dancers here.”

I took a step toward her, closing the distance she’d put between us. “I chose you, because you’re able to tell a story in how you move.”

I gripped her wrist and held her lower back with my other. I leaned her back, and her eyes fluttered shut as she let me dip her body low. She trusted me to keep her from falling, and she relied on me to pull her back up into my space so that our bodies lined up everywhere .

“There’s a story in how your eyes reveal everything you’re feeling,” I continued softly.

I released her wrist to place the crook of my finger beneath her chin. Her vivid eyes opened to lock on mine, and in them swam dozens of emotions. Lust. Determination. Hope. Fervent hunger for her desires.

“It’s in how you hold yourself,” I whispered against her lips, running the backs of my fingers down her throat and between her breasts. Her breath hitched, and I wanted to fucking cum just from the mere sound. “I want that. I need that for this dance.”

“I can do it,” Harper immediately said in a breathless rush. Her fingers tightened where they once again clutched the shirt at my waist. “I want to do it. Please.”

There was no missing the desperate plea in her words, and if I had to guess from the way she tilted her head closer to mine or from how her palms moved to the front of my hips, I’d say she wasn’t talking about the ballet right now. At least, not only the ballet. Not to mention, the sweet scent of her arousal blossomed in the space around her, sending my Incubus instincts fucking scattering like sparks about to ignite into a full-blown explosion.

She wanted me.

And goddamn, if I didn’t feel the same.

“Come have dinner with me,” I murmured against her lips, finally feeling the faintest touch of them as I did.

“Okay,” she answered quietly.

Holy fucking Hell.

Her lips barely brushed mine in something I wasn’t sure could actually be called a touch, yet that whisper of one sent a jolt of electricity right down my spine and to my now aching cock. I was going to fuck her. Right this goddamn second.

But somewhere in the back of mind, I remembered there was still staff here that could pass by this room any minute. And while I wasn’t opposed to voyeurism by any means, this was my prized ballet company. I didn’t want to tarnish my image in my new employees eyes when I’d barely started. Because that’s what fucking Harper right here would do.

Damn humans and their fucking sense of public etiquette.

I quickly stepped away from Harper before I completely lost all sense of control and fucked her, consequences be damned. “Get changed. I’ll meet you out front.”

With the sudden separation of our bodies, it was like reality came rushing back to her, and she realized what she’d agreed to. “Wait, I—”

I didn’t stick around to hear her attempt at recanting her agreement. I left the practice room in a brisk walk. Not only did I want to ensure our plans remained, but I had to get to my office. I needed to fucking jerk off before this human made me explode.