Chapter 25

Zagan

IYLA WAS PISSED. OR UPSET. Or both.

Ever since she’d left me sitting alone at the piano, she’d been quiet, and her gaze was distant like only her body remained here while her mind was far away. And I knew exactly where it was. I could whisk her away to my place, but I couldn’t take away the lingering mental damage her mother had inflicted.

I didn’t expect her to understand or accept her new freedom a day after being disowned. There was no way she’d see this as a good thing when the hurt was so raw. But to see the way she lit up like an explosion of fireworks when she listened to me play made me want to always keep that look in her gaze. I wanted her to do what she loved so that the light in her eyes never dimmed.

Piano did that for her.

It also made me want to keep playing. I, myself, had forgotten what it was like to successfully play such a well-respected piece, and having an enraptured Iyla as my audience was a major serotonin boost. It reminded me what it felt like to love music again, something that I’d been struggling with lately.

So after a silent coffee break where I watched her over the rim of my mug while she stared off into space, I made my way back to the piano and played whatever came to mind.

My heart raced as my fingers moved, falling back into the memory of old pieces. There was no stopping. I bounced from piece to piece, composer to composer, style to style, all at random. There was no time to think, no time to stress over the crumpled up music sheets downstairs or the lack of inspiration for my own songs. I just played , and fuck, did it feel great, like reuniting with a long-lost love.

“That doesn’t sound like a new song.”

My fingers froze mid “Goldberg Variations,” and the calming sound faded. I looked up at the sound of Dante’s voice. He stood in the doorway with the rest of the band, including a human-looking Coldin.

“Nope,” Perseus said, drifting closer. His hair was pulled back in a bun at the back of his head, and his muscles strained beneath the maroon crew neck sweater he wore as he leaned on the piano. “Sounded like Bach.”

I flashed the golden-haired guitarist a teasing smirk. “Wow. You actually know something other than our songs? Color me shocked.”

He sneered at me, unamused by my jab. He couldn’t argue, though. I’d never known him to listen to anything other than our albums.

“Thought you were working on another song today?” Xander asked as he came over with the rest of the group. Strands of his black hair fell into his eyes as his ringed fingers tapped a few keys in no particular fashion, sending out an unpleasant pierce into the air. “Doesn’t look like you’re being very productive.”

I glared at Xander’s fingers touching the keys and immediately closed the lid. He quickly pulled his fingers back, narrowly avoiding having the digits smashed. He snarled at me, but I ignored the empty threat.

“I’m taking a break from working on music,” I admitted, getting up from the bench.

The guys followed me out of the room. I glanced at the living room for Iyla but found it empty. She must’ve been in her room, probably still stressing over what to do now that her lifelong plans had been altered.

“Taking a break?” Dante asked incredulously.

I hopped onto the kitchen counter by the coffee pot and poured me some as Dante stared at me like I’d lost my mind. “We just released ‘Moonlight Magic,’” I argued. “We don’t need another song right now.”

“You’re right,” Perseus said, leaning his tattooed arm on the island while he flicked his dangling dagger ear piercing with his free hand. “We need a whole album .”

Tension bracketed my mouth, and my shoulders coiled tightly. The relief and ease I’d had while going through memorized classical pieces on the piano faded like thunder clouds rolling in on a previously clear day.

I’d felt something again—a spark of what used to exist inside me—while playing the piano, but the moment these guys showed up with their reminders of the need for more, that spark fizzled into nothing. I wanted to love our music. I wanted to be passionate about what we did. But I couldn’t fucking do that like this.

“Zagan,” Dante said carefully. His large frame leaned back against the island across from me. He crossed his arms, making the green t-shirt stretch over his dark skin, and he stared at me with an imploring gaze. “What’s going on? You’ve never struggled like this before.”

I puffed out a tired breath and looked down into my mug. “I just hate what I’m writing these days, man. Nothing feels right. Nothing sounds right.” I looked back up to meet each of their gazes. “I just need some time to find my spark again.”

The guys stared at me, each with a varying expression. Dante seemed almost sympathetic with his soft frown. Xander looked baffled with his raised brow and open mouth. Persues appeared to process my plea with pursed lips, and Coldin … well, he stared at the ceiling, probably not even listening to anything we were saying. His head was tilted back, stretching out his tattooed neck. The skull depicted on his skin had a better chance of tuning into our conversation than he did.

“We can put a pause on releases,” Dante finally offered. “We can stick to doing video appearances and concerts for now. If anyone asks about upcoming titles, we’ll just let them know we’re on a break as far as that goes. If there isn’t pressure, do you think that will help?”

I thought about it. I wasn’t sure if that would fix my problem, but it was something . So I nodded. “Yeah. Maybe without that, I can refocus and get back to where I need to be.”

“You didn’t have to keep trying if it wasn’t working, Z,” Perseus said, giving me a supportive look. “We thought you were just being a perfectionist when you complained about hating the songs, not actually asking for a break. You should’ve said what you needed sooner.”

“Yeah,” Xander chimed in, grabbing himself a mug and pouring the last of the coffee for himself.

I nearly flicked the shaved half of his head. Iyla could’ve wanted that.

“We can do whatever the fuck we want,” Xander continued once he had his drink. “If we don’t want to release an album right now, we don’t have to. We control our group, not some label or higher-ups. People can just deal with it.”

I gave a small laugh. Sometimes I forgot that I didn’t have to do this. It was a career I chose to do, because I loved it. I really did. I just needed to remember why I loved it. Xander’s reminder that this was our band to do with what we wanted made some of the stress lift from my shoulders.

“I hope to get back into the swing of things soon,” I announced, raking a hand through my hair. “I’ll let you guys know when I’m ready again.”

Dante stood up to his full height again and plastered on a devious grin. “That’s what I like to hear. Now that we’ve settled that, how about we go out tonight? I’m ready to have some fun after moving all my shit here from New York.”

Perseus and Xander hollered their agreement.

Normally, I would’ve jumped at a chance to go out for a night of debauchery, but …

I glanced at the stairs leading up to the third floor. Iyla had been distant since our talk, and I wasn’t sure how interested she’d be in going out. On the other hand, I wasn’t sure how comfortable she was here yet since she’d just moved in yesterday. Being in this mansion all on her own might not be fun for her.

“Are you sick?” Perseus demanded, staring at me with concern. “Why are you hesitating?”

“He and the wife are having a spat,” Coldin answered, his deep monotone voice piping up for the first time.

I glared at the demon dressed in all black, who still stared at the ceiling from where he leaned against the fridge. “We aren’t having a spat.”

Xander fought a laugh as he nudged Perseus, nearly sloshing the coffee out of his mug. “I love how his first instinct was to deny that part.”

My stomach bottomed out, and my mouth dried as I realized he was right. What the fuck? Why had that been the part that bothered me the most instead of the jab about Iyla and I being in a relationship? Maybe I really was sick. Maybe demons could get ill now, and I was experiencing the first ever demon disease.

Dante moved across the space between us so that he stood right in front of me. His dark eyes searched mine as his brows creased. “You—You don’t like that human … do you?”

I recoiled instantly, but my heart beat harder. Dante was too close. His words were too jarring. Eden’s taunting from the other night joined in with his question, and suddenly, I felt boxed in. I placed my arm on Dante’s broad chest to move him away and hopped off the counter. I opened my mouth to deny his accusation, but my throat closed up, stopping the words from coming.

“Holy shit!” Perseus gasped, his eyes widening. We stared at each other like the realization hit us at the same time. “He does! He—He likes a human!”

Xander threw his head back in a boom of laughter and came up to me to throw his arm around my shoulder. “You’ve got it wrong, Pers. Zagan would never . None of us would.” His mirth-filled eyes met mine, and silence descended as the teasing slowly faded from his gaze, replaced by open-mouthed shock. “Oh my Hell. You really do.”

My breath came too quick, and I couldn’t seem to slow it down. Everything in my mind was firing too quickly for me to think properly.

Xander pulled his arm off my shoulder and took a couple steps back. “You—”

“He doesn’t like a goddamn human,” Dante suddenly snapped. All eyes went to him as he strode over to me, stopping so that we were eye to eye. He poked my chest hard and gritted out, “You don’t like some human girl. You’re just confused or some shit. We” he gestured to everyone here, “ can’t have feelings like that. So get your head out of your ass and back on your shoulders where it belongs. You’re a demon . Not a weak, emotion-guided human.”

He stepped back enough to finish, “We’re going out tonight. Seven. Meet at Hell’s Gate.”

He didn’t wait for a response. He disappeared in a plume of shadows, and with a rather awkward glance thrown my way, Xander and Perseus followed.

I stood there with sand still filling my mouth and my heart sprinting. Dante was right. I’d been feeling off for a while with all the issues I was having with my music, so it was probably those mess of emotions contributing to the strange flutter I got around Iyla. Eden and Xander were mistaken.

Iyla was just another human to me.

Something inside me twisted painfully at the thought. The unsettled flurry now stampeding through me was evidence enough that Iyla wasn’t just another human, just another body to feed off of, just another bond. So what did that mean?

I looked sideways at Coldin, who hadn’t moved or changed back into a snake. “What do you think?”

His green eyes finally left the ceiling to meet mine. He shrugged. “What does it matter what I think? What do you think?”

My eyes narrowed. “You’re the one who started this by joking that she was my wife.”

His expression remained as stoic as ever. “So that should tell you what I think.”

Without another word, his body morphed and shrank until only a black snake remained. He slithered along the floor, heading for the kitchen cabinets.

“I should donate you to the fucking zoo,” I hissed under my breath.

With a heavy sigh, I left the kitchen and made my way upstairs. Iyla’s door was open, and I stopped at the edge of the doorway. She sat criss-crossed on the floor, staring at her closed textbooks that she’d spread out in front of her. Just the sight of her in my band t-shirt sent my heart soaring, and I knew right then there was something seriously wrong with me.

My sparrow had fucked me up somehow, but I didn’t understand what it was or what it meant.

All I knew was, I couldn’t breath past the swelling heat in my chest.

The first time I’d played an instrument was over a millennium ago, and I still remembered how it felt. It was the piano of all things, and when I moved my fingers over the keys and heard the twinkling and booming sounds, it was like opening my eyes for the first time.

Where there’d been nothing but darkness and emptiness before, there was suddenly blinding light, a kaleidoscope of colors that I’d never even dreamt could be real, and beauty unlike any other. Beauty in the world that I hadn’t realized existed outside of the darkness. Beauty in music and the way it could convey entire emotions and stories without uttering a single word. Playing music—and, eventually, writing my very own—was like finally understanding what it meant to be alive.

That same feeling hit me now as I watched Iyla’s slender hand tuck some hair behind her ear. The blinding euphoria corrupted my mind as she chewed her lip and scanned the various textbooks. The overwhelming sense of warmth barreled through me as her chestnut eyes rose to lock on mine, stealing all the air and any sense of reason from inside me.

This little human was music, was beauty, was life.

She was my sin, my temptation.

She was … everything .

“Are you okay?” she asked slowly, her eyes raking over me like she was searching for some sign as to why I stood silently in her doorway.

I cleared my throat and tried to keep my voice level and calm so as to not give away the absolute chaos happening inside me right now. “I’m good, yeah.” I went over to where she sat and sank to the floor across from her. “What are you doing?”

Her shoulders sagged a fraction as she looked back at the textbooks. “I brought these with me, but I realized, like almost everything else, that I didn’t pay for these. I tried calling Mom to see what to do about all my school stuff since she demanded everything back, but she won’t answer me.”

She hugged her knees to her chest, her eyes never leaving the books. “I don’t know what to do anymore. I have class tomorrow, but do I even go? Do I keep trying for this degree that was meant more for Mom than it was me? Part of me thinks I can still fix things with her if I keep trying, but I-I just don’t know.” Her eyes squeezed shut, and she held her head in her hands. “I don’t know what to do, Zagan.”

I knew what she should do. She should give that woman the middle finger and tell her to kiss her ass. But my reaction wasn’t Iyla. She didn’t need a suggestion from a selfish demon. She needed one from a friend.

“Iyla.” Her name left my lips gently, like the sound itself was made of glass and saying it too hard would make it shatter.

She looked up at me, despair and desperation clouding her eyes. Just seeing the desolate expression made my chest constrict with the need to bring some light back to her, to make her troubles disappear.

“Forget your mom,” I began. “Forget the expectations you’ve always had placed on you. Forget the money and the schooling. Hell, forget what I’ve said, too. What would you like to do if you were given the chance to do anything? Don’t think about how or the logistics of getting there. Just tell me. What is your dre—”

“To play piano,” she whispered, cutting me off. Her teary eyes held mine, and they seemed almost pleading as she admitted, “I want to play piano.”

I smiled at her honesty and gave her an encouraging nod. “Okay. What do you want to do with that? Teach piano? Be in a band? Work at hotels? Work with an orchestra?”

“I want to perform,” she answered immediately, like the answer had always been tucked away inside her, begging to be let free, and now that it was out, there was no stopping the rush of truth. “I want to be a pianist, traveling and performing classical pieces all over the world with different orchestras.”

I grabbed her hands and pulled her across the sea of textbooks to settle in my lap. She straddled me and wrapped her arms around my neck while I placed mine on her lower back.

Her eyes bore into mine as I answered, “Then that’s what you’ll do. I’ll make damn sure of it. You’re not living for anyone else from this moment on. Going forward, you’re going to reach for your goal. You’re going to be a pianist.”

Her brows plunged, and she shook her head. “But I don’t know how to get there. I’ve already spent three years studying—”

I lightly pressed a finger to her lips. “Excuses. Those are excuses to cover up the fact that you’re scared. And I get it. Figuring out how to get where you want to go can be scary. Starting over can be scary. But if anyone can do it, you can.” I squeezed her tighter to me and added with a teasing grin, “You won’t have to do it alone. I’ll be there with you, and having a demon at your disposal will definitely make things easier. I can literally do just about anything.”

She laughed, and the sound went straight to my heart like an arrow striking true. Her fingers mindlessly played with the hair at the back of my head as she smiled at me. “You are a demon, aren’t you? I forget sometimes.”

Her words reminded me of what she’d said the night before. I was more than a spawn of Hell. To her, I was Zagan . I wasn’t a sex demon, only good for one thing. I wasn’t some creature that existed solely to inspire sin in the world. I was more in her eyes, and I’d never realized how much I needed to be that until she came into my life and showed me.

“Thank you,” I said softly, looking deep into her eyes. I wanted her to see how much she’d helped me just by being herself.

She raised a brow and tilted her head slightly. “For what? I’m pretty sure I’m the one who should be thanking you after everything you’ve done for me.”

I shook my head at the suggestion. Swallowing hard, I said, “Thank you for seeing me.”

Surprise lit her eyes for a moment before a small smile replaced it. “Thank you for hearing me.”