Chapter 11

Iyla

“ASSHAT,” I MUTTERED, GRIPPING THE steering wheel tightly. “I know who I am.”

Liar , my inner voice whispered.

I ignored that voice. I did know who I was. Or rather, I knew who I wanted to be. I knew … who I couldn’t be.

The thought only served to spike my annoyance, because I didn’t want Zagan to be right. I didn’t want this stranger knowing how to read me so easily. He didn’t know me. He didn’t know anything.

Except how to use his body and yours .

My cheeks heated, and I squeezed my legs together. This was the longest drive home ever. I couldn’t stop thinking about the demon, his last words to me before I left, or the amazing sex we had. The silence in the car didn’t typically bother me since I was used to it, but the silence tonight only made my thoughts louder . I’d never been so happy to pull into my apartment parking lot as I was right then.

Until I saw the white BMW waiting next to where I always parked.

My stomach sank, and a fine layer of sweat immediately broke out on my neck. The pink sky gave way into night. I didn’t know how long my mom had been here, but I knew I was going to be interrogated about why I was out so late. I quickly looked at my reflection, praying I didn’t look like someone who’d just been thoroughly fucked and satiated.

As soon as I got out of my car, Mom got out of hers. I held my breath and rounded the front of my car, meeting Mom on the sidewalk.

“I thought you were at home studying,” she hissed immediately.

“I was,” I lied, hoisting my bag higher onto my shoulder. “I mean, I am . I just went to the campus library for a bit. A study group was meeting, so I thought I’d go and join. You know, bounce points around with other students and discuss the upcoming exam.”

Mom narrowed her eyes. “I see. How did it go? Was it helpful?”

I nodded, hoping my voice didn’t give away my nerves. “I think so, yes.” I glanced at her car then her. “What brings you here?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I was grabbing coffee with a colleague. When I drove by, I saw your car was gone, and when I tried tracking your phone, it didn’t pull anything up. So I decided to wait here.”

I was so glad I’d had the foresight to turn my phone off out of fear that she’d do exactly what she’d done—track it. I would’ve had no idea how to explain why I was at a random mansion in the middle of the woods.

“Oh, sorry,” I said. “My phone died, and I forgot my charger here.”

Mom huffed and rubbed her forehead. “You’re an adult now, Iyla. Please be more responsible, and keep your phone charged, especially if you’re leaving home.”

My mouth dried at the sound of her disappointment. It was a tone I’d gotten used to over the years, but that didn’t make hearing it now any easier. Part of me wanted to ask her if her demand was because she truly cared for my safety or if it was because she wanted access to me and what I was doing at all times—to see if she had more reasons to be disappointed in me.

“Yes, ma’am,” I said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

Her hazel eyes met mine, and for a moment, we just stared at each other. I wondered what she saw when she looked at me. Did she see a daughter who tried her hardest from her waking moment to her last, or a daughter that constantly failed her wishes? All I’d ever wanted was to be someone she was proud of, someone she could love. The more I chased her acceptance though, the more I wondered if I’d ever be good enough for Valerie Winters.

How much longer did I have to breathe for her? How much longer did I have to carry the weight of her demands? How much longer did I have to kill off pieces of myself to have her finally look at me and smile?

“I know midterms are coming up for you,” Mom started cautiously, like she already regretted saying whatever was about to come. “If you do well on them, I’ll take you out to celebrate.”

My heart lurched in my chest, and it took every ounce of strength inside of me not to squeal and bounce up and down right there on the spot. I had to be dreaming. “Really?”

She nodded and opened her phone. “I’ll add it to my schedule, so you better do well. You know how I hate for appointments to be canceled after I’ve made the time for them.”

I bit my lip to fight my smile. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you. I won’t let you down.”

Her sharp eyes raked over me, her nose ever so slightly scrunched in annoyance. The sight didn’t even bother me for once. I was far too excited at the prospect of sharing a celebratory moment with my mom.

She gestured her manicured hand at the apartment building, which we still stood in front of. “Get inside and get to work.”

I didn’t hesitate. I made my way inside while she went to her car. There was a pep in my step that hadn’t been there before, and a new fire burned to life inside me. I had to do well on these exams, not that I ever doubted that I would’ve, even without this extra dose of encouragement. I just couldn’t believe it. Mom actually wanted to take me out. I couldn’t remember the last time she and I spent time together like that.

It gave me hope that things were changing for us. All the chasing I’d done had paid off. She was finally seeing me as a valuable person in her life that she wanted to have around. It sent my heart sailing high over the stars and the moon.

As soon as I got into my apartment, I got to work. I sat at the kitchen island with my notes and textbooks in front of me, reading the material, re-watching lectures, and making myself practice exams. It didn’t take long for the embers of determination to slowly die out, because there wasn’t anything more for me to study or work on.

As much as Nahla made fun of me for it, my time truly was spent doing nothing but school stuff. I went to class, reviewed lectures between classes, ate, did homework, studied, slept, and repeated. That was my life, seven days a week. So as I stared at all the papers spread out on my island, I realized there was nothing for me to actually do. I knew the material already. I was just re-reading and re-listening to stuff I’d already mastered, and because of that, my attention drifted to the one place it shouldn’t.

Zagan.

It still baffled me that I’d gotten myself mixed up with him for two glaring reasons: he was a literal spawn of Hell, and he was a famous singer.

I should’ve had a greater chance of being struck by lightning while inside a rubber ball than I did of getting demonically bound to him.

Yet here I was.

I thought back to last night’s concert, which was, admittedly, a blast. The entire energy of the place was like nothing I’d ever experienced, and their music had been catchy and sexy. Before I knew what I was doing, I had opened a new window on my laptop and googled Sinners Do It Better.

The first thing I watched was a live performance of one of their songs. It was just as amazing to watch on video as it had been to see in person. Their stage presence, the way they commanded their instruments, the way they drew the audience in so you couldn’t look away even after the song had ended. It was everything, and I was suddenly invested.

Another video of a different song played after the one ended, and after that was over, I binged a thirteen minute interview of them talking about their newest album. There were Q&A videos, compilations fans had made of sexy moments for each band member, and videos from late night talk show hosts. I watched them all.

Eventually, I even stumbled upon videos of Zagan dancing with a New York Dance Studio, and those did something wickedly hot to my insides. The way he moved and danced was mouth-watering. My heart started pounding, my lips dried, and my pussy began to throb. That was my sign that I’d seen enough.

I closed the videos and shut my laptop, glancing at the time. I nearly fell out of my seat. I’d been watching videos of Zagan and Sinners Do It Better for three hours .

I’d never wasted time like that, and I mentally slapped myself for letting myself get distracted. It was so unlike me, and that knowledge made a brick form in my gut. If I wasn’t careful, Zagan could distract me from my goals—healing Gemma, getting into law school, and working at my mom’s law firm.

Because they were my goals. All of them, even the law school and future career as an attorney. I wanted those things, regardless of the reasoning behind them. It didn’t matter if it was just to make Mom proud of me. My path had been decided, and I couldn’t be shaken from it.

Especially not by some hot sex demon.

FRIDAY ROLLED AROUND, AND I’D almost managed to push Zagan out of my mind. The demon hadn’t shown up at my apartment the entire week—I guessed demons didn’t eat multiple times a day like humans—and not having to see him made things feel almost normal again. My days consisted of school, and after my only Friday morning class, I returned home, ready for the weekend, but even more ready for my weekly visit with Gemma.

Plopping down onto a kitchen stool, I went to call Mom when I got a text from an unknown number.

?: Let’s fuck.

I reread the text in shock and finally scoffed, ignoring the message. I dialed Mom and waited until her business-like voice picked up.

“Hey, Mom,” I said. “I’m home from class. Are you on your way to get me?”

Her sigh pierced my ear. “We aren’t going today. I’ve got far too much work to do.”

My lips opened, but no sound came out. The excitement in my chest slowly dissipated like smoke on a passing breeze. “But Gemma—”

“Understands how hard her mother works,” Mom snapped. “Do not try to make me feel bad about this. She knows I’d be there if I could. I have to go.”

The call ended.

I wanted to scream, cry, and throw my phone. Gemma was sick . She already didn’t get to live with us. Seeing us and us seeing her was so important for all of us. My blood boiled with rage as the need to shake my mom and tell her that her work could be ignored for an hour every week took over. I knew she loved Gemma, but part of me worried that she loved her career more.

My phone pinged with another text from the unknown number.

?: So is she the one who dictates what happens with your life? She sounded intense.

“What the—” I mumbled before another text immediately followed it.

The air in my lungs stilled. It was a photo of me talking on the phone while sitting on the barstool.

From right now .

From the direction of my couch.

I whipped around and found Zagan leaned back on my couch, one arm draped over the back, his legs spread in a picture of ease, and his thumb hovering over an open message thread on his phone.

His blue eyes found mine. “You didn’t respond to my text, so I decided to pop in.”

I clutched my chest where my heart tried to regain a normal rhythm. “Are you crazy? How long have you been here?”

“Since the moment you got here.”

My jaw fell open. “W-What? So you were here even when you texted me?”

He nodded shamelessly. “I was waiting in the shadows. I gave you a chance to text back, and if you did, I was going to knock on the door like a normal person. But you ignored my text, so here we are.”

My mind sputtered to keep up with his nonsense. “How did you even get my number?”

He snorted and stood. My eyes tracked his every movement as he walked toward me. “Have you forgotten who, or rather, what , you’re dealing with?”

I guessed it was a stupid question. He could get to my apartment with a simple poof . Finding my phone number was probably nothing. Still, seeing him here after nearly a week of silence startled me. I wasn’t used to all this magic or whatever it was.

I realized then what his last text said, the one before the photo, and embarrassment coated my insides. I tucked some hair behind my ear and avoided looking at him as I asked, “Did you hear my phone call?”

“I did,” he answered without hesitation. “Your mom sounds like a real peach.”

Heat swept up my cheeks, and shame filled me to the brim. I felt like a little elementary school girl getting scolded by her Mom in front of a friend. It was mortifying, especially since she and I already had such a tedious relationship. He’d just gotten a small peek at a private conversation that I didn’t want anyone hearing, especially a stranger like him.

“Don’t pop in unannounced anymore,” I said finally, gathering the courage to meet his gaze once more. “ Or hide in the shadows of my home like they’re your own personal viewing station.”

He shrugged. “Won’t make any promises.”

Of course he wouldn’t.

Even though I was irritated with his sudden presence, it came at a good time. I didn’t care if Mom wasn’t coming. I could still go see Gemma, and Zagan could tag along to give her another dose of his blood.

“Gemma is probably expecting me and Mom,” I said, looking over his black pants and button-up shirt. Desire suddenly swirled deep inside me, because he looked good in a button-up. I stomped that feeling down as I finished, “I’m sure she won’t mind if it’s you that shows up with me instead.”

He frowned. “Can I eat first?”

I held my head higher with my hands on my hips. “You’ve had all week to do that. If you were hungry, you should’ve come sooner. I’m not making Gemma wait just because you like starving yourself.”

His eyes widened at my defiance. “I’ve been in New York this week doing interviews and dance classes and work . I just got back.”

“Still your fault.”

He stared at me for a solid minute like I’d lost my mind before a smirk slowly formed on his pierced lips. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say someone sounds a bit upset that I didn’t come to eat. Feeling a wee bit neglected, Iyla? You miss having me between your legs already?”

It was my turn to look at him like he’d lost his mind. I was not bothered by his silence this past week, nor did I miss what we’d done.

At least, not too much.

But I’d never admit that to him.

Instead, I brushed past him and said, “Let’s go before your ego gets too big to fit inside my apartment.”

He chuckled but followed obediently. The fifteen-minute drive to Bloomings went by surprisingly fast with Zagan’s control of the radio. I typically drove in silence, but Zagan was insistent upon having music. At some point, one of his songs came on, and it was one I recognized from the rabbit hole I’d gone down that night I’d wasted three hours of my life. The moment it started playing, he switched to a different channel.

“Why’d you change it?” I asked, glancing sideways at him.

He stared out his window with his cheek pressed into his fist. “No reason.”

I bounced my eyes between the road and him, and I noticed he seemed a bit more tense than when I’d last seen him. Like he was stressed or something. I considered prying, but I thought better of it. It wasn’t like we were friends.

We pulled into Bloomings and made our way inside. My legs carried me a bit faster than usual, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. My heart pounded as I thought about what improvement I might see in Gemma after her first taste of Zagan’s blood. I knew I was probably getting my hopes up, but logic didn’t exist when hope burned brightly.

I reached Gemma’s room and stopped outside. Looking over my shoulder at Zagan, I whispered, “Wait here for a second.”

Gemma sat cozied up in her bed, flipping through a book. Just the sight of her made all the edginess seep out of my shoulders and made the air come easier in my lungs.

“Whatcha got there?” I asked from the doorway.

She looked up then, and her face brightened like this room’s very own sun. “Iyla! You’re here!”

“Of course I am,” I said, going to sit on the edge of her bed. I took her small—and noticeably cold—hands in mine. “I wouldn’t miss our visits for the world.”

She glanced behind me, and her smile cracked some. “Where’s Mom?”

I dropped my eyes, and my stomach soured. I hated having to tell her that her own mother was too busy to come see her. “She couldn’t make it today.” I met her sad eyes and forced enthusiasm back into my voice. “But I brought someone else with me.”

I held up a finger for her to wait a second and went back out into the hall where Zagan was being ambushed for autographs by patients and staff, including the group of girls who’d spotted us the last time. I fought off a sigh. I was clearly going to have to start making him wear a disguise when we came.

He noticed me peering out and excused himself. When he reached me, he whispered, “Who knew I had so many fans here?”

“I think it’s gotten worse since your visit last week,” I hissed. “Next thing you know, they’ll have posters of your face hanging over all the murals.”

He smirked. “That would definitely be an upgrade.”

I rolled my eyes and pulled him with me into Gemma’s room. I’d thought she’d been happy to see me, but that had nothing on her reaction to Zagan. It made me want to rip all of his beautiful black hair out just from spite.

“Zagan! Oh my gosh! You really came back to see me!” Gemma squealed.

Zagan’s mouth tipped up in a warm smile, and he crossed the room to sit in the chair next to her bed. “Good morning, beautiful. You having a good day so far?”

She giggled and looked up at me to whisper, “He thinks I’m beautiful.”

I couldn’t fight my grin, my previous annoyance with the superstar now gone. “That’s because you are .” I swiped the tip of her nose with my finger.

The two of them started talking about the book she was reading—a middle grade fantasy about dragons. It was almost like the two forgot I was there, but that was fine. It gave me a chance to look Gemma over without her noticing my worried gaze.

Her hair was just as dull and thin as it had been the last time I saw her. There was no new shine to it, nor any sign of restored health. Her complexion remained pale, and her little lips were chapped with a fresh split on the corner of her bottom lip. Instead of being up and full of energy, she was lying in bed, piled with two blankets, a flannel dress, and a robe.

I bit the inside of my lip to keep from crying in defeat. I knew it was going to take time for her to get better. Zagan had said it would take multiple doses. Still, not seeing any evidence of progress, even of the slightest kind, broke me a little inside.

“I’ll be right back,” I said to Gemma, interrupting their discussion of what their dream dragons would look like. “I’m gonna go talk to Dr. Seward real quick.”

“Hurry back,” Gemma chirped.

“Yeah, you still haven’t given your input on your dream dragon,” Zagan complained, and I could see how hard he fought his teasing smirk.

I ignored him and left in search of Dr. Seward. He was in his office, looking at some papers. When I knocked on the doorframe, he looked up at me. “Ahh, Iyla. Hello.”

“I’m sorry to bother you,” I said, fidgeting in the doorway. “I don’t want to take up your time. I was just popping in to see if there were any updates from this past week.”

He gave me an understanding smile, one he’d no doubt practiced over his many years of dealing with families of sick patients. “Her condition has been more or less the same. I know it’s frustrating not to have definitive answers. Illnesses that you can’t see with the naked eye and work directly on can be especially hard. But Gemma’s strong. She’s a fighter. I promise to let you and your mother know anytime we get new results or her condition changes in either direction.”

His words were meant to comfort, but they were just a reminder that we were still in limbo.

We were still in this place of waiting to see why Gemma’s own body was poisoning her.

We were still waiting to see if she’d decline or improve.

We were still waiting on Mom to make time for us.

Always waiting.