Page 93 of The Devil and His Goddess

Helplessness consumed me, but I refused to give in or show Harper how I was breaking.

Desperate to reach her somehow, I barrelled on, “I’ll make something for dinner. Anything you want.”

I reached out to gently touch her arm. She jolted as though my fingers had electrocuted her, and I reared back as her glassy eyes finally flicked in my direction.

“Perseus?” she rasped. She sounded confused, like she hadn’t realized I was here or heard me speaking.

Forcing down the lump in my throat, I put on a smile. When I spoke, I didn’t mention that I’d been standing here and calling out. I pretended I’d only arrived. “I’m home. I thought I’d make us dinner. Will you come eat with me?”

She rubbed at her eyes and slowly sat up. I wanted to reach out to help her but worried my touch would have a negative effect again. So instead, I watched her with my hands clenched uselessly by my sides.

“What time is it?” she asked.

“It’s a little after five.”

Her lips parted and eyes widened. “R-Really?”

She looked around the room as though something in it could clear her confusion, but instead, it made her frown deepen. The day had slipped by her without her realizing it.

I didn’t want her dwelling on that, so I offered my hand. “Let’s eat, Goddess.”

The nickname made a brief flash of life enter her eyes, but it was gone before it could truly catch light. Still, that miniscule glimmer of my Harper gave me renewed hope.

Smiling wider, I repeated, “Let’s eat together.”

She was slow to get out of bed. Her energy was practically nonexistent. When she came into the main room where I’d moved to prepare dinner while she used the bathroom, that fact became even more apparent. Her steps were less that and more gradual shuffling. Her already fair complexion was even whiter today, making the dark circles under her eyes more pronounced.

I bit the inside of my cheek in an effort to keep my face free of the concern that strangled me. Clearing my throat, I gestured around the kitchen. “What would you like? I can make anything, or if you’re still lacking an appetite, I can reheat the soup I made for you.”

“The soup is fine,” she answered. She sat on the couch and hugged her legs to her chest while resting the side of her head on the back of the sofa so she could watch me in the kitchen.

I moved about the space, reheating the soup while also making her a cup of ginger tea. I set the cup and a glass of water on the coffee table for her, though she made no move to take it. Her glazed over eyes fixed on it, watching the steam rise, all while she remained frozen in a state of despondency.

We ate in the living room together, thoughateseemed a bit too generous of a term for what Harper did. She took maybe five or six spoonfuls of the soup and a few sips of her tea before claiming to be done. I helped her back to bed, and it wasn’t long after her head hit the pillow that she went to sleep.

She was hurting in a way I couldn’t understand. She was falling apart, and I feltuseless, watching those pieces of herself slip through my fingers like sand. What could I do to stop the grains from floating away?

Looking down at my palms, I noted one thing that needed to be dealt with. Harper couldn’t go on like this. She was physically wasting away by not eating, drinking, or sleeping properly.

Grinding my teeth, I pressed my hand to her forehead and let my own essence flow through my body, down my arm, and into her. If she couldn’t give her body the fuel it needed, I would with my own. I’d give her every last drop of my energy if it meant helping her.

A soft pink color rose on her cheeks, and the hollowness beneath her eyes filled in. Seeing the subtle changes as signs that her body had absorbed my essence, I stopped the transfer and pulled my hand back. The moment the connection broke, I swayed slightly on my feet and had to grip the nightstand until the world ceased its spinning.

I wasn’t made of never-ending power and energy. I had to refuel every few days to stay in the best shape, but I could go almost two months without eating, though I wasn’t sure how long I could make it if I was also giving her my essence. It didn’t matter, either way. Whatever state it put me in would be worth seeing that life come back to her.

But she needed more than just restored energy. She needed something that truly brought her joy, something that gave her that natural spark for life.

Dance.

Her love was, and always would be, dance.

The ticket back to herself was ballet.

She didn’t want to go back to the studio she was raped in, and I wouldn’t have let her, even if she did. Silverlight was an option, but I didn’t think she’d want the people there probing into what was going on. That left me with one obvious solution.

Shadows wrapped around me, and when they cleared, I found myself in the gallery of my home. Currently, the grand space had all the art, busts, and statues that I’d gathered through the years. At the front of the room was a series of windows looking onto the front yard. Across from that were sliding glass doors, which opened onto the back patio and inground pool, one that even the most luxurious hotels would be envious of. The wall across from me—the biggest and most undisturbed as far as windows and doors went—would be perfect.

I knew it was after hours, but I made calls to the companies I’d used to redo Silverlight. With the incentive of extra money, they each agreed to come out this week to complete their respective jobs.

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