Page 26 of Demon Daddy's Baby Girl

My fingers find the hem of my dress, twisting the fabric as I listen.

"A noble took a liking to her. Like Kaelith did with you." His jaw works beneath his skin. "Used her, got her pregnant. But her body wasn't handling it well. By the time I found out..." His voice drops, becoming a rough whisper. "Their baby died in childbirth, and he left her on my doorstep, abandoned her when she couldn't give him what he wanted. I was too late to save her."

His jaw works, and I feel the need to lean forward to touch him, comfort him. But I don't. Even if his pain reaches into my chest and wraps around my heart. Even if I've been growing close to this demon when I know I shouldn't.

Even if I can't stop staring at how handsome he is and marveling over how kind and caring and thoughtful when I should never get this close to a demon.

The confession hangs between us, heavy as lead. My throat works, struggling to find words adequate for such grief.

"I've been trying to make up for that failure ever since," he continues, silver eyes meeting mine, unflinching despite the pain radiating from them. "Not a day goes by when I don't think about her."

"Is that why you wanted to help me?" My heart pounds against my ribs, understanding blooming like blood in water.

His large hands spread open, palms up in a gesture of raw honesty. "I couldn't save her. But you and Sephy?—"

Thunder crashes again, closer this time, but I barely notice. Everything suddenly makes sense—his immediate help, his fierce protectiveness, the nightmares I sometimes hear from his room down the hall.

The confession hangs between us, raw and painful and honest in a way that cracks something open inside me. For the first time since I arrived here, I feel a rush of certainty—that this connection isn't just my imagination, that the safety I've found here isn't temporary or conditional.

I set my mug down on the small table beside me, my hands trembling. Without its warmth to focus on, my fingers knot together in my lap. He gave me a truth so I should give him one of my own.

"Kaelith claimed me when I was nine." The words scrape my throat like glass, but I force them out. Once the first sentence breaks free, the rest follow in a flood. "Not... not like that, not at first. I was just a servant to fetch his things, clean his chambers."

Rolfo's expression doesn't change, but his eyes—those mercury eyes that miss nothing—darken slightly.

"When I turned fourteen, everything changed. He—" My voice falters, the memories crowding in like shadows. "He started using me. Said I'd been bred for his pleasure, that I should be grateful he waited at all."

The fire pops, sending a shower of sparks up the chimney. Outside, the rain intensifies, a curtain of sound that feels like protection—no one could hear my confession but the man sitting across from me.

"For years, I just... endured it. What else could I do? He kept me locked in his chambers unless I was serving at special functions. There were enchantments on every door, every window." I swallow hard, tasting bile. "When I became pregnant, I thought he'd be furious. Instead, he seemed... pleased. Started talking about how powerful his blood was, how valuable a half-demon child would be."

Lightning flashes again, illuminating Rolfo's face. His jaw is tight, a muscle working in his cheek, but his eyes remain fixed on mine—not with pity, but with a burning focus that somehow gives me courage to continue.

"Then I overheard him with one of his advisors. He was planning to take Sephy once she was born and..." The words stick in my throat. "And dispose of me. I wasn't worth keeping once I'd fulfilled my purpose."

Rolfo's hand clenches into a fist on his knee. "Bastard," he growls, the word rumbling from deep in his chest.

"That night, I stole a blade from his collection." My fingers trace an invisible line across my palm, remembering the cold weight of the metal. "I didn't have a plan. Just desperation. When the guards came to bring me my evening meal, I..." I close my eyes, seeing again the shock on their faces, the blood, my own hands shaking but never hesitating. "I cut through three of them. I'd never hurt anyone before, but suddenly I was... I was someone else."

The burning in my eyes surprises me—I thought I'd cried all my tears long ago.

"I ran as far as I could. I was trying to get off the continent, but it's hard to get passage when you have no money. So I was stuck moving from city to city, hiding in shadows, stealing food when I could. Until that night when I collapsed and you found me."

Rain streams down the windows like tears. I can't look at Rolfo anymore, afraid of what I'll see in his face now that he knows the full truth of what I am—what I've done.

Instead of the disgust I expect, I feel the couch shift as he moves. Suddenly he's kneeling before me, his large frame somehow not imposing despite his proximity. Slowly, deliberately, he takes my hand in his. His palm is rough with calluses, warm against my perpetually cold fingers. His thumb traces gentle circles over my knuckles.

"You did what you had to do." His voice is soft but fierce. "To protect your daughter. To survive."

I look up then, meeting his gaze through the blur of unshed tears. The intimacy of the moment steals my breath—his face level with mine, the gentleness of his touch at odds with the power I know he possesses.

"I killed people," I whisper.

"You saved yourself," he counters. "And Sephy."

His thumb continues its rhythmic motion across my hand, each circle seeming to erase a small piece of the shame I've carried. For the first time since my escape, I feel the wall I've built around myself beginning to crumble—not with fear, but with relief.

"I've spent every day since looking over my shoulder, waiting for him to find me." My voice steadies, drawing strength from Rolfo's unwavering presence. "He won't stop looking. Kaelith doesn't forgive, and he never forgets what he thinks belongs to him."

---