Page 45 of The Devil and His Sparrow

I licked my lips and tilted my head knowingly. “Like the things we just did?”

“That,” she said, a pink blush blossoming on her cheeks.

Figured. I chewed on my lip around my piercings and flicked some trash on the table, watching it bounce across the surface and over the edge. Part of me wanted to tumble to the ground with it.

Her answer was typically the response people had to my songs and my singing. It made them horny or made them fantasize about me and all the things I sang about. Which was fine. I loved sex and being what men and women dreamt of having in their bed. But sometimes I wished my voice made them want—

“And more,” Iyla added.

Everything inside me stilled, and I raised my eyes back to hers.

More?

She cleared her throat and met my gaze with a resoluteness that hadn’t been there before. “It makes me want to … I don’t know. Jump. Scream. Fly. It makes me feel like I could do anything and it be okay. Like I can really live and it be okay.”

I stared at her, and I wasn’t sure if I was breathing anymore. The way she heard me, like my voice and songs were more than just fuel for a good time, made my own heart begin to pound—a heart I often forgot existed. A tightness filled my chest. The overwhelming swell of emotion was one I couldn’t put a name to. All I knew was I liked how this caged bird heard me in a way others didn’t. My fleeting words in a song became a map to herself.

Schooling my face so she couldn’t see the effect her statement had on me, I asked, “So you don’t feel allowed to live right now?”

She seemed startled by my question, like she hadn’t realized saying what she had would admit something she’d been denying this whole time. I sat back and waited as she looked down at her lap and gathered her words.

“Fine. I admit it,” Iyla said softly. “I-I do, sometimes … maybe … slightly, feel like my life isn’t my own.” She pinched her fingers to make a small gap and glanced at me. “Only a teeny bit.”

“A teeny bit,” I repeated with a humorless chuckle. “I see. Well, let me give you some seasoned demonly advice. You can do anything. The only one stopping you is you.”

She sighed and rubbed her forehead. “It’s not that easy. My Mom—”

“Has her own life. This one is yours. Stop trying to live it for her.”

Her brow furrowed slightly, and she searched my gaze with a sort of desperation, like she wanted to believe me but struggled to. I’d had a hunch that a parent was what kept Iyla on such a tight leash. I hadn’t seen any religious artifacts in her home or signs of any other reasons to keep her constantly on edge. From the small comments she’d made about her mom’s rules or from that short but hostile phone call this morning, it became clear that Iyla’s mom had a strong hold on her.

I’d been willing to bet everything Iyla did—every step she took, every belief she had about herself, every plan she made for her future—stemmed from her domineering mother.

“Have you ever tried speaking up?” I asked. “Have you ever tried telling her what you want?”

She slowly shook her head. “Not since I was little. I got shot down a lot and stopped trying.”

“Maybe it’s time to give that another go. You’re both adults now. Tell her what you want and start living how you see fit. Don’t live under her control anymore.”

She swallowed hard, and her eyes watered. She opened her mouth, closed it, then whispered, “I don’t know who I am if I’m not her version of Iyla.”

The admission seemed to scare her. It was probably the most honest confession she’d ever made, and we both let the weight of it hang between us. Who was Iyla without a leash? Who was Iyla when she let go and breathed on her own?

I offered her a supportive smile and leaned in until our noses nearly touched. “So let’s find out together.”

Chapter 14

Iyla

I STILL COULDN’T BELIEVE HOW I’d opened up to Zagan. I’d never dared to speak about my feelings on how I lived, yet the person I chose to disclose that to was a demon?

My lips and mind had seemed to loosen under Zagan’s influence. After having mind-blowing sex right there in a room full of people, something had changed inside of me. I kinda felt like a badass for doing something so daring and taking control of what happened, so afterward, the words and confessions just came easy.

His words of comfort helped, too.

So let’s find out together.

The mere idea of even trying to talk to my mom about potentially having a bit more freedom—less random check-ins, deciding what I wore for myself, listening to music again—terrified me. But I didn’t have to figure out who I was alone. Zagan offering to be beside me for the journey made it seem less daunting, if not a little exciting and nerve-wracking. Thinking back on his offer caused my heart to beat harder in a way that startled me.

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