Chapter Four
Damian
I had no trouble siphoning energy from most of my clients at VitalityFit. Insecurities, vanity, bruised egos—the usual human frailties made for a steady, predictable feast. Yet since Lily Green walked into my orbit, my well-honed routine felt… incomplete. Every minute I spent with other clients only underscored how potent Lily’s emotional energy had been.
I still remembered every breathy moan of exertion as she pushed through those final squats, the tremor in her lusciously thick thighs as she tried to maintain balance, the quick flush on her cheeks when she caught me watching her. I played it off as a typical training session, but the truth was more complicated: Lily’s ambition, laced with a dash of self-doubt and a flicker of raw courage, gave her energy a layered complexity I rarely experienced. It tasted spicier and sweeter all at once, making me hunger for more.
That desire was exactly what I needed to avoid. Demons thrived on the chaos of human emotions, but the essence of our power came from detachment. We manipulated mortals since it was so easy to stoke the fires of their baser emotions—fear, greed, envy—but we never truly cared for them. What I felt for Lily wasn’t mere fascination with her uniqueness; it was a deeper, more unsettling pull that I sensed could threaten the boundaries I’d perfected over centuries. Lily, unlike the others, didn’t trend toward narcissism. That alone was rare. Rather, her aura was imbued with an extra bandwidth of white light, meaning that her energy vibrations were higher and stronger for compassion, encouragement, and making lemonade from lemons. She wouldn’t be as easy to tempt to the dark side. I wasn’t used to being matched in strength on the spiritual plane, and I found the challenge both frustrating and enticing.
Hoping that burying myself in other clients’ sessions might dull the edge of my fixation, I threw myself into the day’s schedule. First up was Pam Peterson, finally having caved to my subtle pressure tactics to book another session with me and keep her appointment. She arrived tense, shoulders tight, her eyes betraying a swirl of stress. My demon perked up at the sight.
“Let’s start with some light cardio,” I told her, guiding her toward the elliptical machines. “Then we’ll move to core exercises.”
As she began pedaling, I gently coaxed out admissions about her worries. Each sigh, each resentful mention of her ex, gave me a steady drip of negative energy. I drank it in, a standard part of my demonic function. She never suspected a thing—no mortal ever did. In the mirror, I saw her posture relax slightly, as though unburdened. Her negativity flowed into me, fueling my supernatural essence, leaving her feeling superficially lighter.
Normally, I’d have relished this calm, methodical harvest. But today, it felt hollow. Even as Pam recounted her anxieties, my mind flashed back to Lily’s bright, determined eyes. Frustration sparked in my chest—damn it, I had a job to do, obligations to my realm, and Lily was an unnecessary complication. If I let her become more than a client, I risked far more than losing a source of energy. I risked exposing secrets that had been tightly guarded for centuries.
I forced my attention back to Pam, offering polished smiles and encouraging words to keep her going. She finished, exhaling a relieved breath. “I’m glad I came in,” she said softly, wiping her forehead. “This helps clear my head.”
“That’s the goal,” I replied, guiding her toward the mats for some final stretches. “Stay consistent, and you’ll reap both physical and mental benefits.”
She thanked me, scheduled her next appointment at the front desk, and departed. I scribbled a note in my electronic log: Harvest moderate. Low risk. It was enough for the moment.
Next, I led Rex McGraw—the bodybuilding enthusiast and owner of Apex Luxury Customs—through a grueling chest-and-back routine. Rex practically vibrated with self-importance, bragging incessantly about an upcoming competition and how he planned to outshine everyone on stage. His vanity poured off him in waves, fueling me with bursts of arrogance and simmering aggression. Easy feeding, as always.
Between sets, he flexed in the mirror, eyeing himself. “Guess who’s about to corner the market?” he boasted. “I just got a call yesterday from Hollywood about a potential reality show!”
I offered a knowing smirk, adding a little flattery to stoke his ego. “If anyone has the drive to grab that golden ring, it’s you, bro.”
He grinned, nodding appreciatively. His self-confidence burned bright, a near-perfect emotional fix for me—but still, it felt curiously unsatisfying. Rex’s brand of ambition was shallow, a single note of puffed-up pride. Even as I stood next to him, I found myself tuning out his next round of bragging, longing instead for the memory of Lily’s nuanced emotional tapestry. And the way her curves kicked up my pulse in a way no treadmill ever could.
“Damian?” Rex prompted, snapping me out of my musings.
“Right,” I said, feigning focus. “Let’s move to your cable rows. Keep your shoulders down, back straight.”
He followed my instructions, too lost in the mirror’s reflection to notice my slight distraction. I silently chastised myself: a demon with centuries of practice in emotional manipulation shouldn’t be daydreaming about a mortal. Yet something about Lily’s energy clung to me, refusing to be overshadowed by standard feedings like Rex’s.
Finally free of appointments, I retreated to a small staff lounge at the back of VitalityFit. The lounge was little more than a plain room with a few chairs, a table, and a locker for personal belongings. I needed a moment to clear my head, but even there, I found no respite. Lily’s face occupied my thoughts, along with the memory of how her body tensed when I corrected her form, the breathy little exhales she made when pushing through a set.
She’d texted me the night before—a quick message thanking me for the session, mentioning how sore she felt yet oddly proud. I’d replied with mild encouragement, advising her to stretch and stay hydrated. Her appreciative response had sparked a rush of warmth in my chest. It was the most mundane conversation, but inside I yearned for more.
I stood by the wall, trying to bury the notion of wanting her on a personal level. Part of me questioned whether I was simply addicted to the high of her emotional resonance, like some people trended towards sugar or alcohol addiction. Another part worried it ran deeper, that I craved her as a person rather than just a feed source.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. For a split second, I hoped it was Lily. Instead, the screen displayed a new text from Marcellus: We’ll need your monthly numbers soon. Any issues with new clients?
I typed a curt reply: No issues. Lily Green shows promise. Others are stable.
Marcellus responded almost immediately: Keep an eye on her. We expect higher yields from cases like hers.
I deleted the conversation and exhaled slowly. I’d never admitted to Marcellus that Lily was affecting me. If he suspected I was losing my usual edge, I’d be in hot water. No demon was indispensable, and I knew how quickly Marcellus would replace me if I turned incompetent or—worse—became compromised by human attachments.
Leaving the lounge, I headed down a corridor that opened into the main gym space. At that moment, Harrison Slagle stepped into my path. I recognized him instantly: the private investigator with a suspicious glint in his eye. He hadn’t officially signed up for a membership, but he lingered around VitalityFit under various pretexts—“scoping out local businesses,” he claimed. At first, I’d assumed he was investigating one of our clients—possibly having been retained by a spouse or significant other to find out if they were having an affair. However, enough time had passed that now I suspected that his real purpose for hanging around may run deeper.
“Mr. Slagle,” I greeted, forcing a polite smile. “Looking to join us today?”
He smirked, glancing around. “Still evaluating. A friend of mine dropped by recently—told me I should come in.”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. “We aim to provide premium service.”
He studied my expression, clearly unconvinced. “I keep hearing how trainers here can spark almost miraculous transformations. People’s careers turn around, their attitudes shift drastically. All thanks to the ‘motivation’ provided by VitalityFit.”
The subtext in his words was hard to miss. I schooled my features into cool indifference. “We believe in a holistic approach.”
“And you, specifically.” Harrison looked me over. “Everyone says you’re the top trainer—push clients to their limits, but in just the right way.”
His probing tone set my teeth on edge. If Lily had mentioned me to him, that would be a complication. The last thing I needed was her confiding in an investigator whose range of subject matter may be problematic. “I do my job,” I said simply.
“Ever work with a real estate agent named Lily Green?” he asked.
My pulse kicked, but I forced a calm expression. “She’s one of many new clients. Why?”
He shrugged, scanning my face as if searching for cracks. “Just heard she’s been unusually motivated. Must be some training if she’s seeing changes so fast.”
“Early success can be a powerful motivator,” I replied, keeping my tone even. “She’s invested. That’s all it takes.”
Harrison nodded, gaze lingering. “Must be nice to watch people transform. Well, I won’t keep you. But maybe we’ll chat again soon.”
Before I could respond, he walked off, heading toward the exit. I watched him go, unease prickling at the base of my neck. If he kept sniffing around Lily, she might start asking questions, and I feared my pull for her might make me vulnerable, weakening my ability to resist answering her questions truthfully. I couldn’t allow that.
In the aftermath of Harrison’s departure, I drifted through the gym in a haze of agitation. Rationally, I knew what had to be done: keep Lily close, ensure she remained reliant on me for her progress, and if necessary, divert her from contacting Harrison about anything odd. Any sign of supernatural involvement had to be downplayed or hidden.
Yet a deeper part of me bristled at the idea of deceiving her. The notion that I might sabotage her trust for the sake of my realm felt like betrayal, though I had no right to moralize. I was a demon, after all. Deceit was part of the job description, the reason I was here. But Lily’s sincerity made me resent my role in a way that felt dangerously close to guilt—an emotion I wasn’t supposed to possess.
I forced myself to focus on the daily tasks—checking the free weight racks for disarray, stopping to correct a client’s shoulder alignment during overhead presses—but everything felt mechanical. My mind kept returning to Lily, her parted lips and uncertain smiles, the warmth in her voice whenever we spoke. The unsettling fact that there was something about her that made me want to see her smile for its own sake, not because I planned to exploit her next wave of self-criticism.
As I locked up my office, my phone vibrated, signaling in incoming text: Lily . A hesitant kind of excitement flickered through me as I opened the message: Hey, hope I’m not interrupting. Just wanted to say my arms are killing me—but in a weirdly good way. Wanted to ask if you have any suggestions for quick relief? Or should I just tough it out?
A slow smile crept across my lips. Even something as mundane as her complaining about sore arms brightened my mood in a way that wasn’t exactly rational.
I typed back, fighting the urge to grin: Gentle stretching is good, but a light massage can work wonders too—if you don’t mind someone’s hands on you. It’d help ease that soreness.
My thumb hovered over “send,” a flicker of adrenaline reminding me I was flirting with a mortal who sparked a dangerous interest in me. Normally, any mention of extra “services” would be a technique to harvest more emotional intensity. With Lily, it felt more real—like I was indulging myself rather than just manipulating her.
She replied seconds later: Hands on me, huh? I guess that depends on whose hands…
A slow warmth spread through my chest. This was reckless, but my demon side thrived on high-stakes situations. I allowed a bit of innuendo to slip into my next text: If you can handle mine, I can probably squeeze you in. Literally. Although my rates do go up for post-workout rubdowns.
Her next message popped up almost immediately: I’m sure I can manage your “rates” if the results are worth it. Is there a guarantee?
I laughed under my breath. A demon should maintain cool detachment, but Lily’s wit and the sultry hint in her words made my pulse pound. I typed: I guarantee I’m the right guy for the job. You just keep showing up ready to work—your arms won’t be the only thing feeling good.
I sent it before I could overthink. Part of me worried I was crossing a line that Marcellus would never approve of—getting personally involved with a client, blurring that trainer-client dynamic. Yet, being who I was, I threw caution to the wind anyway.
Tucking my phone into my pocket, I slung my bag over my shoulder and left VitalityFit for the night. A final text buzzed as the doors swung behind me and I reached for the device:
Deal. I’ll bring extra water—and we’ll see if those magic hands of yours live up to the hype.
A low thrill curled through me. Here I was, a demon tasked with harvesting mortal insecurities, openly flirting with a woman who threatened to undo my carefully cultivated detachment. If I wasn’t careful, I’d lose control of the situation—or worse, lose myself in whatever Lily awakened within me.
For now, I’d ride the line between duty and desire, convincing myself I had everything under control. But as I walked away, the echo of her teasing words—and the promise I’d just made—proved that control was the last thing on my mind.