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.