Page 36 of The Devil and His Sparrow

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.

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