Chapter 31

Zagan

“SO,” I PROBED SLOWLY, TWIRLING a strand of Iyla’s hair around my finger.

She lifted her head off my bare chest to look up at me. We were stretched out on the couch with some drama-filled dance show playing, but neither of us had been paying much attention.

As soon as I’d found her on the couch in one of my band t-shirts, I’d stripped her of everything, bent her over the couch, and fucked her until she couldn’t stand anymore. We moved to lay on the couch for round two, and now, she was pudding in my arms as she rested on top of me.

My sparrow kept me well-fed these days.

“So what?” she asked, her hand resting on my chest. I loved the way she would idly trace my tattoos when we were like this, and she did that now, also taking the opportunity to flick my nipple piercing as she passed by.

I’ll have to punish her for that later.

Restraining myself from jumping into round three, I pursed my lips conspiratorially and revealed, “Your sister told me a bit of news at the party the other night.”

Iyla’s slender finger paused where it had been working on my dagger tattoo, and her big brown eyes locked on mine. “What did she say?” she asked hesitantly.

I smirked. “December third.”

Iyla’s eyes doubled in size before narrowing in a glare. “She’s a traitor.”

Laughing, I ordered, “Clear that weekend. You’ll be mine for the entire duration, which means this will be the best birthday you’ve ever had.”

Her skepticism remained as she mumbled, “Somehow, that only scares me more.”

THERE WERE TEN MINUTES LEFT of the flight. Iyla was in the back room of the band’s private jet, getting ready with all the things I’d bought her specifically for this trip. I still hadn’t told her what we were doing. Hell, she didn’t even know where we were actually going right now, and I planned to keep it that way for as long as possible.

Life had been a bitch to Iyla, and the accumulation of it all nearly knocked her over the edge. Just remembering the bullshit her mom had said, seeing the tears fill her sweet eyes, and feeling the pain she’d tried to drown in alcohol—then actually drowning—pissed me off all over again. I’d seen every type of human over the years, and Iyla was unlike all of them. She didn’t deserve the shit-hand she was dealt, and I was determined to give her everything she did deserve.

Starting with her birthday.

I shifted in my seat and rested my forehead on my fingers as I worked on my new song. Ever since that day I’d felt the spark of inspiration again, I’d spent every spare second I had working on new music. I couldn’t seem to write or work on them fast enough with how quickly they were coming to me. When I felt myself coming up on a brick wall, I’d stop and go talk to Iyla or watch her play the piano or take her dancing in our home studio.

Yeah. Our .

I wasn’t sure when I’d started thinking of my house as ours , but nothing had ever sounded more right.

I closed my eyes, letting my pencil still on the sheet of paper, and sang through the lyrics I was working on to make sure I liked the sound. It was slower and a bit more on the romantic side compared to our older songs, but the melody and words reached down to touch something inside of me that had never been tapped into before. And I fucking loved it. I felt like myself again.

As the words died off my lips, an angelic voice came from behind me. “That was beautiful. As always. No one sings like you do.”

I looked over my shoulder to see Iyla shutting the back cabinet door. She turned to face me, and my throat closed up with no sign of ever opening again.

I was well-acquainted with beauty since my line of work—the demonic and human kind—attracted that. Yet no exotic beauty, no seductress dressed to the nines, no person had ever come close to my sparrow.

The dark navy one-shoulder dress hugged her curves and just barely brushed the ground as she walked in her silver high-heels. The glittering crystals adorning every surface of the gown caught the light, making it look like she wore the star-filled night sky for a dress. Her curled dark hair had been pulled to one side and pinned with a diamond clip, which matched the dangling diamond earrings and necklace resting at the top of her breasts.

And when she smiled at me … she shined brighter than any of the jewels she wore.

I stood, breathless and heart racing. I couldn’t stop drinking her in, and my voice came out rough as I said, “You are very gorgeous, Iyla Marie Winters.”

I didn’t think it was possible, but her smile widened. She looked down at the dress and ran her newly painted nails over the gown. “I still can’t believe you got me all of this. It seems way too expensive.”

The clothes, jewelry, and shoes were a mere drop in the bucket for me, but I didn’t say that. Instead, I opted for, “You deserve something nice and extravagant. Think of it as me investing in potential outfits you’ll wear when you’re traveling the world and playing as a pianist.”

Her cheeks pinkened, and she looked at the dress again. “It would look pretty on the stage, wouldn’t it?”

Not as pretty as the girl wearing it.

The intercom clicked on, and the pilot’s voice piped up to instruct us to sit and buckle as we prepared for landing. The two of us got in our seats, which faced each other across a table. She buckled. I didn’t. I leaned back, watching her gleaming eyes stare out of the window, no doubt trying to figure out where we were going. With a devious smirk, I glanced out the window and conjured a blur of clouds that blocked her view. I couldn’t let her figure it out so soon.

When we landed, I helped Iyla off the jet and shuffled her into the limo that waited at the airport.

“Would you tell me where we’re going and what we’re doing already?” Iyla asked with an exasperated sigh.

I straightened my tux jacket as we settled into the cozy seating area and leaned back to get comfortable. It was just over an hour drive to our destination, and while I could’ve gotten us there in the blink of an eye, I decided to get there the human way. It meant I got to watch Iyla squirm with the anticipation of the unknown, and that amusement was worth any long drive.

Iyla studied every sign we passed and quickly gathered that we were in New York, but she wasn’t sure what we were here for. She threw out guesses—shopping, going to a place I liked from my time living here, a Broadway show—but I shot down each of them. Even if she got it right, I’d probably lie and tell her she was wrong just to keep her guessing.

Finally, the limo drove through the streets of New York City, and Iyla looked as mesmerized by the tall buildings and bright lights as a kid seeing a Christmas tree lit up for the first time. The sight warmed my chest, and I had the urge to reach over and tug her into my arms. Seeing as how we were pulling up to the Lincoln Center, I decided that would have to wait until later.

When we got out of the limo, Iyla beamed at the lit-up buildings with the bubbling fountain between them. “The Lincoln Center?” she asked slowly. She turned toward me, understanding quickly dawning in her eyes. “Are we here to see the philharmonic?”

I grinned and wove my fingers with hers. “They’re performing Mozart’s, ‘Ch’io mi scordi di te,’ his ‘Piano Concerto No. 25,’ and Mahler’s, ‘Symphony No. 4.’”

Her lips parted, and her glossy eyes searched mine with a mixture of shock and awe. I just smiled at her and pulled her up the steps and past the fountain for David Geffen Hall. I’d gotten us centermost seats on the second tier balcony, and Iyla practically vibrated in her seat as she stared down at the stage below. Her eyes were constantly moving, watching the crowd find their own seats and taking in the grand lighting and set-up of the stage.

“I can’t believe we’re here,” she whispered, her lips coming so close to touching my skin. Her hand squeezed mine, which she’d not let go of since I took hers outside.

I chuckled. “Just wait until they start playing. You’re going to love it.”

Sure enough, by the time the lights dimmed and the musicians got in their starting positions, Iyla’s eyes had become permanently glued to the magic happening on stage. The music swelled to life, and the singer’s voice carried loud and strong through the theater as “Ch’io mi scordi di te” started the night for us.

I knew I should’ve been watching the performers below, but my head stayed tilted just enough so that I could keep Iyla’s face in my constant periphery. Her eyes glimmered with adoration, and every time the pianist moved through particular notes, her breath would hitch and she’d give a soft nod as though to silently say, “Well done.”

Before I knew it, the first performance was over, and we were already moving on to Mozart’s, “Piano Concerto No. 25.” Iyla was even more drawn into this one, practically on the edge of her seat as she listened.

By the time we made it to Mahler’s, “Symphony No. 4,” I’d basically missed the first half of the show, too busy watching one of my own. I finally faced the stage below and watched with quiet appreciation as the musicians commanded their instruments with expert grace and skill. The sound flooding the room was soft and enchanting. I glanced at Iyla again to see what she made of this piece, and I found her with her chin tilted slightly into the air, eyes closed, and a soft smile on her lips.

The first time she’d heard me play the piano, she’d listened with her eyes shut. She’d said it let her feel the music better, and my chest tightened with a need to know what she felt. I wanted to experience the piece through her ears. So I faced forward and closed my eyes, letting every part of my senses focus on the music.

The small jolts of the melody in the floor beneath my feet and in my chair.

The light sound of strings and winds twirling with each other to create this brief thunder of unease that finally gave way into serenity as the final movement brought us to a close.

The theater fell silent, and then a sudden eruption of applause poured out from the mezzanine and gallery. I opened my eyes as patrons stood, clapping for the bowing conductor and philharmonic. Iyla and I stood, too, clapping for a beautiful performance. Our gazes met, and we shared a warm smile as the high from experiencing the production lingered.

“That was …” Iyla beamed, shaking her head as she tried to find the words. She laughed and looked up at me. “Everything! I mean, really. I have no words.”

There was a chill in the night air as we left the building, so I pulled off my tux jacket to drape it around her shoulders. She bit her lip and gave me a small thanks as she pulled the jacket tighter around her shoulders.

“The night isn’t over, yet,” I said, placing my hand on the small of her back. “We’re not too far from where we’re headed. Are you okay walking there, or do I need to call for a cab?”

She shook her head and leaned into my side. “I want to walk! I’ve never been to New York before. I want to see what it’s like.”

Her enthusiasm was infectious, and as I walked her down the streets of the city, pointing out different things and telling her stories from my time here, the city I’d known since its very beginning seemed brighter than it ever had before. But I wasn’t surprised. Iyla made everything better.

Iyla’s cheeks and the tip of her nose were red by the time we reached the Plaza Hotel. I let her take in the elegance of the lobby as I checked in with the receptionist, who was already excited to see me since I was the Zagan, but smiled even wider at me once he learned I was the guest who’d booked the grand penthouse suite.

I got stopped twice more by fans before Iyla and I finally managed to reach our suite.

“Oh my gosh,” Iyla breathed out in a rush of awe. She slowly walked around the luxurious first floor of the suite, and it seemed she couldn’t take in everything fast enough, just as I couldn’t keep up with her ever-changing amazement.

I grabbed her hand to pull her up the stairs, which led to the second floor of the suite. “Are you hungry? I had dinner prepared and set up for us.”

She nodded, and with that, I brought her to the private balcony. The doors were already open, the curtains blowing gently in the chilly night air. Outdoor heaters had been set up near the table, which had been outfitted with candles and roses. The steak and lobster dinner and bottle of wine waited on us.

It was far more romantic than anything I’d ever done, but then again, I’d never had Iyla in my life. While something like this would’ve made me cringe in the past, I now found myself eager to see her reaction to it all. I wanted to see the light fill her eyes or the color swarm her skin as the happiness overflowed from within her.

Something had been stirring inside of me for awhile now, and while I couldn’t put words to it, I could show her what I was feeling. I could profess these raging emotions through gestures like this, if only to make her understand that there was more happening.

There was more than a bond that kept us here.

There was more than a deal to save her sister tying us to one another.

I just didn’t know what to call it or what it all meant.

“You did all this?” Iyla asked, her voice so low, I wasn’t sure I would’ve heard it had I not been a demon.

“I’ve never put together a surprise for someone, let alone one for their birthday,” I admitted, scratching sheepishly at my chin. “I hope everything’s been okay.”

She turned to look at me with unshed tears glistening in her eyes. “Are you kidding? It’s been … amazing. No one’s ever done something like this for me. Any of it. The clothes. The concert. This.” She waved her hand at the patio and gave a small laugh and disbelieving shake of her head. She squeezed my hand. “Thank you, Zagan. Not just for tonight, but for … everything.”

I wasn’t sure what to do with such profound gratitude. People didn’t typically thank me for things, other than an orgasm I gave them. When they did, it was never like this—whole-heartedly, the emotion practically pouring out of them to hit me in a wave of warmth. I didn’t feel like I deserved it. To me, doing this for her was the bare minimum. Doing this was just the tip of the iceberg as far as everything I wanted to shower her in.

This was just the start of our song.

IYLA STOOD AT THE WINDOW in one of the bedrooms, staring out at the nightlife of the city beyond. A soft, care-free smile painted her full lips. She’d shed my jacket after we came inside. I unbuttoned the cuffs of my shirt to roll up the sleeves, watching her eyes glitter with a glee that made my own chest swell with that now constant yet still unfamiliar emotion.

I shoved my hands in my pockets and stood there for endless minutes, content to watch her watch the world. It was amazing how things changed like this. Me being satisfied with one person? Me enjoying the mere sight of their contentment and not focusing on my own?

How the right people changed us for the better.

I approached Iyla from behind and stopped at her back, meeting her eyes in the reflection of the window.

She smiled at my reflection and said, “I bet the city is beautiful when it snows.”

“Would you like it to snow?”

Her eyes widened. “C-Can you make it snow?”

For you, anything.

I kept the immediate response to myself, and instead, looked past our reflections to the open air outside. With a single thought and a ripple of magic, fat, fluffy snowflakes began falling from the sky. Would I have been able to do such a major display of power like changing the weather for any other person? No. But our bond changed everything. The possibilities of what we could do heightened to ensure we met most demands of whoever we were bound to, and I’d never before been happier that was the case.

Too bad it wasn’t that easy to alter the health of someone other than our bonds. I knew that—saving Gemma—would’ve been the gift she truly wanted most.

Iyla gasped and leaned closer to the window to watch the snow gracefully fall to the earth below. I placed my hands on her arms and stepped further into her. I leaned my head down so that my lips brushed her ear, and I nearly came undone when she shivered against me.

“Happy birthday, Sparrow,” I whispered.

Her palms pressed into my thighs, and her head leaned back against my chest. I pulled her hair securely over one shoulder and pressed my lips to the column of her throat then moved lower to her shoulder. The scent of her arousal permeated the air around us, prickling my skin like static, and I inhaled deeply, my demonic features practically itching to come out at the intoxicating aroma of her desire.

I licked the skin of her neck where her pulse fluttered, and her ass pressed against my aching dick. I reached behind her to unzip the dress and watched it fall off her cream-colored skin to pool at her feet. My dirty little sparrow had forgone any underwear, so the moment the garment was off, she stood naked and beautiful.

“Zagan, the window,” she squealed.

She tried backing away from it, but I caged her in, pressing my front to her bare back and placing my hands on the window on either side of her.

“You’re not going anywhere,” I said. I took my hand off the glass to reach for her full tit and squeezed it before pinching and rolling the nipple in my fingertips.

She bit her lip, and her eyelids fluttered as she pressed further against me. “What if someone looks up here?” she asked breathlessly. “What if they see?”

“Then they should thank you for blessing them with the sweet sight of you,” I answered, continuing to palm her breast with one hand while I gripped the front of her thigh with the other. My hand trailed up the smooth flesh until I met the crease where her leg met her pussy, and I dragged my finger softly across the skin there, teasing where she had grown deliciously wet.

“Now,” I murmured against the shell of her ear, “be a good girl and lean over for me.”

Her breath hitched, and I saw the color rise to her cheeks in the reflection. She immediately obeyed, leaning the top half of her body forward until her face practically pressed into the glass. Her breath created clouds of fog on the window. She spread her thighs slightly, and I grabbed her leg to force one knee to rest on the windowsill, opening up her pretty cunt for me. The lips glistened with her hungry desire, and the beast inside me practically paced with the impatient need to taste her, fuck her, and claim her.

I smirked as my eyes stayed trained on her dripping core, and my dick pressed against my slacks with the threat of ripping clean through the material if I didn’t free him soon. So I didn’t bother with all my clothes. I undid my pants enough to free my hard cock, slid it through her moisture, and sank into her with one hard thrust.

She let out the sexiest fucking sigh and arched her back. Already, the taste of her pleasure filled the back of my mouth, and it only intensified when I leaned forward to grip her breast with one hand and touch her clit with the other. My sparrow loved having her pussy played with while I pounded into her, which was what I did. I pulled my hips back and slammed them forward again, fucking her with relentless thrusts. Her hands pressed into the window and curled against the foggy glass as her chin tilted back so she could moan for me.

“That’s right, baby,” I praised, pinching and rolling her nipple and flicking her clit in time with the movement of my hips. “Yell for me. Scream. Tell me how much you love it when I fuck this pussy.”

“I love it!” she cried as her own hips shifted to meet each of my thrusts. “God, I love it!”

I let go of her tit and reached up to fist her hair tightly. She whimpered as I pulled on it, stretching her neck as far as it could go. “Say the words. Say what it is you love.”

Her breath heaved around another moan as my dick touched sweet places inside her. Finally, she screamed, “I love it when you fuck me with your cock!”

I smiled. “That’s fucking right.”

She tightened around my shaft, and her body shook as her orgasm crashed through her. My own skin burned with the mounting pleasure, rushing through me to settle where my dick pushed in and out of her hard and fast. I continued rubbing her clit, despite her squirming against my touch to her now-sensitive bud. I pulled her hair harder as my release got closer and closer until finally, I spilled myself inside her tight hole.

I was hot and full—full of her pleasure and full of my own satisfaction.

But I was also just getting started.