Page 27 of Demon Daddy's Nanny

The kaffo turns bitter on my tongue.

I spend the rest of breakfast in stony silence, forcing my attention to the reports spread beside my plate. The numbers blur together, meaningless scratches that pale against the sight of Eva's gentle hands guiding my daughter through her lessons.

Professional. Distant. That's what this arrangement requires. Eva works for me, nothing more. The fact that she's kind to Annalise, that she fills our cold halls with warmth and laughter - none of that matters. I can't afford to blur these lines.

My quill snaps, splattering ink across the parchment. I shove back from the table, wings rigid with tension. "Annalise, don't forget your history tutor this afternoon."

My daughter's eye roll is practically audible. "Eva already reminded me."

Of course she did. Because Eva is perfect at her job, and that's all she should be. All she can be.

I retreat to my office, burying myself in work until my eyes burn. The sun has long since set when I finally emerge, my wings aching from hours hunched over my desk. The halls stand quiet, torchlight casting dancing shadows on the stone walls.

A door opens down the corridor. Eva steps out, and every resolution I've made today crumbles to ash.

Her hair hangs loose and dark with moisture, curling slightly as it dries. Droplets of water trace paths down her neck, disappearing beneath the collar of her simple dress. The scent of her soap - something floral and clean that makes me miss her sweet and honey scent - fills the narrow space between us.

My wings snap forward before I can stop them, curving around her like they have any right to shelter her. She startles, those amber eyes going wide as she finds herself suddenly caged between stone and feathers.

"Ridwan?" Her voice comes out breathy, uncertain.

I force my wings back with brutal control, though every instinct screams to wrap her closer, to bury my face in that damp hair and breathe her in. "Excuse me." The words scrape raw in my throat. "The hall is... narrow."

A lie. The hall is plenty wide. But she accepts it with a small nod, stepping carefully around me. I catch another wave of that clean, floral scent, and my hands clench into fists at my sides.

Professional. Distant. Necessary.

I repeat the words like a prayer as I watch her disappear around the corner, my wings trembling with the effort of staying folded against my back.

I wrench myself away, jaw clenched so tight my teeth might crack. The stone wall meets my palm with bruising force as I brace against it, wings trembling with the effort of staying still.

One touch. That's all it would take. One brush of my fingers across her damp skin, one taste of those water droplets trailing down her neck. The beast inside me—the part that's all warrior and instinct - roars to claim her, to pin her against this wall and make her gasp my name.

My nails scrape stone. The pain helps focus my scattered thoughts, but barely. Her scent still lingers in the air, floral and clean and absolutely fucking maddening.

I know exactly how this would play out. I'd cage her with my wings, feel her pulse jump under my hands. She'd make that small, startled sound again - the one that sets my blood on fire. And then... then I wouldn't stop. Couldn't stop. I'd devour every inch of her, mark her throat with my teeth, tangle my fingers in that wet hair and pull until she arches against me.

The wall cracks under my grip.

No. I can't. Won't. Eva deserves better than a broken man who can't even love his own daughter properly. She deserves someone whole, someone who isn't haunted by ghosts and failures.

But gods, the way she'd looked at me just now, those amber eyes wide and dark. For a moment, I'd seen desire flash across her face before she'd hidden it away. The memory makes my wings snap out, feathers bristling with need.

I force myself down the hall, each step a battle against the urge to turn back. To hell with propriety and position and all the reasons this can't happen. To hell with everything except the way she'd whispered my name, soft and questioning and perfect.

My office door slams behind me, the sound echoing through empty corridors. I lean against it, breathing hard, wings spread wide and trembling. Even here, I can't escape her. Her scent clings to my feathers from where they'd curved around her, marking me as surely as I'd wanted to mark her.

15

EVA

Istand at my window, watching shadows dance across the courtyard as the moons cast their pale light over New Solas. Once again, I’m thinking of our night in the kitchen. The almost-kiss lingers like a phantom, taunting me with what could have been if he hadn’t ran away.

My fingers trace the sill, remembering how his cloak felt draped over my shoulders three nights ago. How he appeared from nowhere, silent as death itself, golden eyes reflecting starlight. The weight of the fabric carried his warmth, his scent - something wild and ancient that made my heart race.

"You're being ridiculous," I whisper to my reflection. "He's a xaphan lord. You're just... convenient."

But then there are the glances. The way his gaze drops to my mouth when we pass in the halls, how his wings twitch and stretch when I'm near - a tell I've learned means he's affected. Yesterday, bringing Annalise her afternoon tea, I caught him watching me. Not the cold, assessing look he gives others, but something heated that made my skin flush.

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