Page 15 of Demon Daddy's Baby Girl

His expression doesn't change, but something shifts in his posture—a subtle tensing of shoulders. "Sleep, Aurelie. Your body needs it."

The deflection is obvious, but I'm too exhausted to push. Instead, I settle deeper into the pillows, my hand still resting on Sephy's back. Her heartbeat pulses against my palm, small but steady.

I don't expect to sleep, but somehow, knowing Rolfo sits sentinel, my eyelids grow heavier. The last thing I see before darkness claims me is his silhouette, rigid and watchful, in the corner of the room.

When next I open my eyes, Sephy is stirring again, this time with the unmistakable hunger cry I've quickly learned to recognize. Moonlight still bathes the room, but its angle has shifted—hours have passed. I reach for her automatically, muscles protesting as I lift her from the cradle.

Rolfo is awake instantly, just as before. This time, he doesn't approach, merely watches as I settle Sephy against my breast. There's nothing uncomfortable in his gaze—just vigilance, and something that might be respect.

"You should have slept in shifts," I murmur, nodding toward Ada who remains deeply asleep. "There's no need for both of you to lose rest."

"Old habits," he answers, voice low. "Besides, she has a child to care for. She needs the sleep more than I do."

I study him over Sephy's head, trying to reconcile this considerate thought with the fearsome demon guard who killed three men barehanded to protect us just days ago. The contradiction should make me uneasy. Instead, it makes him... real. Complex in ways I wasn't prepared for.

Sephy feeds contentedly in the silence that follows, unaware of the silent negotiations happening above her head. Outside, the sounds of night creatures continue their steady chorus. Inside, four souls breathe together in tentative harmony.

I'll stay because I must. Because Sephy deserves safety. Because running with a newborn would be suicide.

But my walls remain standing—high and fortified by years of survival. And for now, that's how they'll stay.

7

AURELIE

Morning slips into evening, and as the red sky darkens to crimson, Ada gathers her things. Four days she's stayed, a constant presence between Rolfo and me, a buffer of feminine energy and shared understanding. Now she stands at the door, honey-blonde braid freshly plaited, warm brown eyes filled with something between concern and encouragement.

"You're sure you'll be alright?" She asks for the third time, her small bag clutched in work-roughened hands. "I can stay another night if?—"

"We'll be fine." I force confidence into my voice, though panic flutters beneath my ribs at the thought of her absence. "You need to see Rose. It's not fair to keep you away."

Her face softens at the mention of her daughter. "She understands. Better than most."

"Go home, Ada." I cradle Sephy against my shoulder, still marveling at how her tiny weight fits so perfectly in the crook of my arm. "We've imposed enough."

"It's not an imposition if it's offered freely." Her eyes flick briefly to where Rolfo stands in the kitchen doorway, his broad frame nearly filling it. "And it was."

I nod, unable to argue the point without seeming ungrateful. Four days of meals prepared, wounds tended, fears soothed—all without expectation or demand. It's a debt I don't know how to repay, to either of them.

"I'll come tomorrow," Ada promises, reaching out to brush a wisp of silvery-blonde hair from Sephy's forehead. "With fresh herbs for your tea."

"Thank you." The words feel insufficient, but they're all I have to offer.

With final reassurances exchanged, she slips out into the evening. The door closes behind her with soft finality, leaving me alone with Rolfo and Sephy in a silence that suddenly feels vast.

Rolfo clears his throat, silver eyes fixed somewhere over my shoulder. "Are you hungry?"

"A little," I admit, grateful for the practical question.

He nods, gesturing toward the table. "Sit. I'll heat what Ada left."

I obey, sinking into a chair with Sephy still nestled against me. My body has begun to heal, the raw emptiness slowly mending, but exhaustion remains a constant companion. From the kitchen, I hear the clatter of dishes, the soft hiss of the stovetop coming to life. Domestic sounds that seem at odds with the man making them—a demon whose hands I've seen covered in blood, whose shoulders bear the weight of armor and duty.

Sephy stirs against me, making small, discontented noises that might soon become cries. I shift her position, murmuring as I've learned she responds to, and she settles momentarily. The simple interaction steadies me, a reminder that regardless of my surroundings or circumstances, this bond remains solid and real.

Rolfo returns with a bowl of steaming stew—zynthra and dreelk, rich with herbs I can't name. He sets it before me, then hesitates, eyes darting to Sephy.

Before I can say anything, he steps back, retreating to the far side of the table. "If you need anything, I'll be in the workshop."

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