Page 46 of Demon Daddy's Nanny

Eva nods against my chest, her fingers curling into my shirt. The simple gesture ignites something primal inside me - this fragile human trusting me, needing me. My wings shift, maintaining the barrier between us and the world as I guide her through New Solas's gilded halls.

Every xaphan we pass averts their eyes, pressing themselves against walls to avoid even accidentally brushing against my wings. Good. Let them remember their fear. Let them spread word of what happens to those who dare touch what's mine.

The thought brings my anger surging back. I should have broken more than his wing. Should have made an example that would echo through generations. My magic crackles beneath my skin, responding to the violent urges coursing through my blood.

Eva stumbles, and I pull her closer, slowing my pace. The tremors running through her small frame remind me she's still shaken. Still processing what happened. I need to control this rage, this possessive fury that threatens to consume everything in its path.

The golden spires of New Solas tower above us as we step outside. My personal carriage waits, its black lacquer reflecting the eternal daylight. The driver keeps his eyes down as he opens the door, wings tucked tight against his back in deference.

I lift Eva inside, my hands lingering longer than necessary. The contact grounds me, reminds me she's safe now. Here. With me. Where she belongs.

But the fury still simmers beneath my skin. The memory of her fear, her pain, echoes through our connection. My wings spread wide, casting shadows across the carriage as I climb in after her. No one will ever hurt her again. No one will take her from me.

I've denied this bond between us for too long, tried to bury it beneath duty and distance. But feeling her terror tear through my chest stripped away all pretense. She is mine to protect. Mine to keep.

Mine.

27

EVA

The carriage ride back to the estate stretches into infinity, each bump and jostle amplifying the weight of Ridwan's words.She is mine.The phrase echoes in my mind, refusing to settle into any clear meaning. I steal glances at him from across the carriage, but his golden eyes remain fixed on the passing city beyond the window, his jaw set in that stern line I've come to know so well.

The feathers of his wings catch the dying sunlight filtering through the glass, turning them into molten gold. He takes up so much space in here, not just physically but with his presence alone. The air feels thick with unspoken words.

My fingers twist in my lap, the memory of his hand gripping my arm still burning against my skin. The way he stepped between me and that other xaphan, his wings flaring out... I've never seen him like that before. So fierce. So possessive.

But what did he mean? I'm just Annalise's companion. A human who happens to work in his household. Nothing more.

The carriage rolls to a stop in front of the estate's grand entrance. Ridwan moves first, his wings folding tight against his back as he steps down. I expect him to stride ahead, to leaveme trailing in his wake as usual. Instead, he waits, extending his hand to help me descend.

I hesitate before placing my fingers in his palm. His skin burns hot against mine, and I can't help but notice how my entire hand disappears in his grip. He releases me the moment my feet touch the ground, but the heat lingers.

We walk side by side through the entrance hall, our footsteps echoing off the floors. The silence between us grows heavier with each step. Questions crowd my throat, fighting to break free. What happens now? What changed in that moment when he claimed me as his? Does he expect me to act differently? To be different?

But his expression remains unreadable, those golden eyes focused straight ahead. His wings twitch slightly - the only sign that he might be as unsettled as I am by what transpired in the market.

When we reach the end of the grand hallway, Ridwan turns left instead of right - away from my quarters, away from the familiar paths I've walked a hundred times. My heart stutters as he leads me down to his private wing.

The doors here are taller, wider, carved with intricate patterns that seem to move in the dim light. He stops before the largest set, placing his palm flat against the wood. Magic ripples outward, golden threads of light spreading like cracks in glass before fading. I’ve only been down here a handful of times.

But never to the room he’s pulling me toward. The doors swing open to reveal his chambers.

I freeze in the doorway, overwhelmed by the sheer size of the space. High vaulted ceilings disappear into shadow. Massive windows stretch from floor to ceiling, their dark glass reflecting the last rays of sunset. The room breathes wealth and power - from the heavy wooden furniture to the silk curtains shifting in the evening breeze.

But what catches my eye are the books. Hundreds of them line the walls, their spines a rainbow of leather and cloth. Not the carefully curated collection in his study, but personal volumes, some worn with use, others pristine and untouched.

Ridwan strides to the center of the room, his wings tight against his back. Every line of his body radiates tension. He keeps his face turned away, but I can see his reflection in the window glass - his jaw clenched, his golden eyes stormy with some internal battle.

My feet carry me forward before I can think better of it. The carpet muffles my steps as I approach him. My hand trembles as I reach out, fingers barely brushing the space between his wings.

"Thank you," I whisper, the words barely stirring the air between us. Thank you for defending me. For bringing me here. For showing me this piece of yourself.

He remains silent, but I feel the slight shudder that runs through him at my touch.

His muscles coil beneath my touch and suddenly he spins, the movement so swift it steals my breath. His wings flare wide, casting shadows across the room as his hands grip my shoulders. The golden depths of his eyes burn with an intensity that pins me in place.

"I tried." His voice comes out rough, almost broken. "Every day, I tried to keep my distance. To remember my place, your place." His fingers tighten, not enough to hurt but enough to ground us both in this moment. "You're human. Fragile. Everything I touch breaks-"

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