Page 30 of The Slave in A Princess Disguise

Vladya snorted. "You know that is impossible; she is not my bloodhost."

"Surprised me, too. I was hoping maybe you've got a new bloodhost, and Merilyn can finally take a rest from your grumpy self," Daemonikai stated in a light tone.

"My grumpy self? How can an old grump like you call me that?" Vladya smirked. "You rubbed off on me thousands of years ago, Your Grace."

"Brat," Daemonikai muttered, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Ancient of days."

Daemonikai’s jaw dropped. "Coming from an almost four-thousand-year-old? That is just wrong, and you know it."

A genuine smile finally graced Vladya's lips.

"There is that smile that has Alvin always giving in to you—" A shadow fell over Daemonikai's face. His playful smile vanished, replaced by a deep sadness.

The atmosphere shifted, heavy with unspoken grief.

Alvin had been as stubborn and hardheaded as he was playful and juvenile. Unlike, Daemonikai's eldest Myka, who had more of his father's traits. More reserved.

Most of the time, Vladya knew how to get his way with Alvin. He used to tease Daemonikai that Alvin was the way he was because he and Evielyn had spoiled him rotten.

Vladya offered no words of comfort, knowing none would ease the pain. Instead, he reached out, placing his hand atop Daemonikai's in a silent offering of support.

But his best friend jerked, snatching his hand away. A second later, the hand was back, this time initiating the touch.

Huh.

Daemonikai held his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"I've noticed it for a while now," Vladya said, his voice low and serious. "Your aversion to touch."

"It began two months ago. I nearly attacked Sinai for touching me."

"Everyone's touch?"

A curt nod.

Vladya did not like that. He did not like that at all. "You are aware of what this means, don't you? You are building boundaries. Isolating yourself from all of us. That severe misery state where people begin to build walls around themselves, keeping their loved ones and the rest of the world away. You know how ugly it can get. Fight it, Daemonikai."

But Daemonikai remained silent, his gaze fixed on the silhouette of the fortress.

Vladya did not push. He felt like a hypocrite, urging his friend to battle demons he himself had long surrendered to.

"The scar on your face. Did you get it that night of the Eclipse Moon?" Daemonikai asked, changing the subject.

"Nope. Your beast did that," Vladya said in a casual, light tone. "Turns out it is true what they say, a feral knows no friend from foe, and a feral fights to kill."

Daemon was not amused. "I apologize." His lips turned down in displeasure, a shadow of regret passing over his features.

Vladya waved off the apology. "Are you sleeping better now?"

"I am truly sorry, Vlad," Daemon repeated, the guilt plain in his voice.

"Take a hint, old male. I am trying to change the subject here,” Vladya said, dryly. "Are those nightmares still plaguing you?"

Daemonikai sighed, nodding reluctantly. "I do not mind. Better to stay awake than to relive those moments. So, who is she? The female you fed from? The one who quenched your thirst?"

"She did not quench my thirst.”

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