Page 70 of The Devil and His Goddess

My body nearly jerked with the need to pull her in. I wanted her to call me what only she did. I wanted the gift of her kiss. I wantedher.

But she was already gone. With some reluctance, I faced the stage and watched the final bows of my company.

The dress rehearsal performance had been great, but I didn’t feel that sense of proud accomplishment. Not yet. I probably wouldn’t be able to take in and let go of that breath until tomorrow night’s show, which would be my first real production since taking over.

And even more than that, the true test of my abilities would come withDancing in the Dark. That was mytrueballet—my heart and soul given for all to witness through dancers I’d selected, music I’d written, and choreography I’d created. I was sure it was going to be the best show of them all.

“‘BLACK SWAN STEALS THE WHITE Swan’s Show.’ What a load of shit!” Mandi fumed.

She tossed her phone back onto her dance bag and slumped against the wall while Samir continued reading the review on his own phone.

I sighed, finishing my own reading of the article written by one of the early reviewers who’d attended last night’s dress rehearsal show. Like Harper and I, that reviewer had an eye for the artistry and complexity of ballet, especially when it came to a role as difficult as the White and Black Swan. He’d noted the brilliance of Mandi’s performance as the Black Swan but found her lacking as the White Swan.

“‘Missing a certain innocence,’” Samir mumbled while reading. He looked down at a sulking Mandi and nudged her gently with his toe. “It was the first show. You’ll get more comfortable with it the more we do it. This role just takes time.”

“Harper didn’t need more time,” Mandi snapped as she shot a glare Samir’s way. She seemed to remember that the dance master, répétiteur, and I were in the room, so she gave us an apologetic frown. “Sorry. I just … I don’t know what more to do. I thought I was doing both parts really well.”

Mandiwasgood.

Harper was better.

That wouldn’t be helpful to add into the conversation, so instead of pointing this out, I opted for constructive criticism. We rediscussed my own notes I’d taken the night prior, working through the moments where I’d noticed the White Swan could use more fine-tuning in expression.

I spent the morning with Samir and Mandi, working on the opening pas de deux of Act Two. With today being the big day, I was harder on them, yelling out the moments when Mandi needed to watch her expression and character portrayal.

During one of the breaks, Samir cast a nervous glance Mandi’s way. “You know,” Samir hedged, “you could always ask Harper to help you. Shewasthe swan for two years. There’s nothing wrong with getting advice and pointers from her.”

If Mandi had a knife and a way to get away with murder, I was sure she would’ve killed Samir right there on the spot. She went ramrod straight, and her face flushed a deep crimson as her nails curled. The spike in her anger reached out to my demonic senses, andthatwasn’t even an emotion I was prone to picking up on.

“Do you not agree with Samir?” I asked Mandi in an easygoing tone.

Her brown eyes flicked to mine, and her chest seemed to rise and fall harder as she reigned in whatever she was feeling. After swallowing a few times, she rasped, “Let’s see how tonight goes. I wouldn’t want to bother her. I know she’s busy.”

She smiled sweetly at me, and I put on an equally fake one in return. Clearly, Mandi didn’t want Harper’s help. Whether that stemmed from pride in general, jealousy, or a dislike of Harper, I wasn’t sure. Either way, the reluctance to grow due to some petty reason annoyed me greatly.

I left that practice room so the two principal dancers could finish getting ready for this evening’s show. My irritation only seeped away as I passed by another practice room and heard the muted music for one of Harper’s solos inDancing in the Dark. I slowed my steps to watch her through the pane of glass on the door, transfixed like a moth to her ever-vibrant flame.

She spun and dipped and flew through the air in a vision of pure beauty. My lungs were seized of air. My heart was trapped in her grip. My body was hers to command. And I’d never been happier. I wanted to stay just like that—her puppet, her worshipper, her peasant.

Chapter 26

Harper

I STARED AT MANDI, UNABLE to move, breathe, or even blink. I’d fallen into some parallel universe. Or maybe, unbeknownst to me, I’d died, and this was some warped afterlife. Because there was no way I’d heard what I just did.

I glanced around the empty changing room at Silverlight. There was nowhere for a camera crew to hide, so this wasn’t a prank. I double-checked that I wore my black leotard and joggers, confirming I wasn’t in my pajamas and dreaming. Even Mandi looked completely normal in her red leotard and black leggings, blonde hair in a perfect ballerina bun. No abnormalities in the reality around me, which meant …

“I’m sorry,” I said, clearing my throat and shaking the confusion from my head. “What?”

She huffed and placed her hands on her hips. She refused to meet my eyes and continued to stare into the space next to my head as she repeated quietly, “Will you help me with the White Swan portrayal?”

Holy shit!

It had been two days since opening night ofSwan Lake, and we’d all seen the reviews and reactions. Most were positive and had no complaints, but the more respected voices in the ballet community had been unanimous on one issue.

Mandi wasnoOdette.

Even worse for her, many ended their critiques with a wish that the previous year’s Odette had taken center stage—aka,me.

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