Page 27 of Demon Daddy's Baby Girl

Rolfo's fingers tighten slightly around mine, protective.

"Let him try," he says, the words simple but weighted with promise.

Another crack of thunder shakes the house, but I don't flinch this time. In this moment, with rain drumming against the roof and Rolfo's hand anchoring mine, I feel something I'd forgotten existed—not just safety, but connection. Something raw and real stretching between us, built on shared grief and understanding.

12

ROLFO

I'm standing by the window, Sephy tucked in the crook of my arm, when I hear the distinctive creak of my front door. My hand instinctively reaches toward the blade at my hip before the familiar scent hits me—rain-soaked leather and that distinct metallic polish Dezoth uses on his equipment.

"Didn't expect for you to come by today" I say without turning, my attention focused on the tiny bundle against my chest. Sephy's breathing is steady, her silver-blonde wisps tickling my bare forearm.

The door closes with a soft click. Boot steps approach, measured and deliberate as always.

"Reports came in about unusual activity near the merchant district." Dezoth's voice fills the room, deep and controlled. "Thought I'd check if you'd heard anything before I headed there."

I turn finally, finding him standing ramrod straight just beyond the threshold to my living room. Rain glistens on his obsidian hair, drops still clinging to the shoulders of his guard-issue coat. Even off-duty, he carries himself like he's perpetually on parade—shoulders squared, chin slightly elevated. Only his golden eyes betray anything beyond duty, flicking down to the infant in my arms.

"Nothing on my end," I shrug. "Aurelie's resting, so I've been here all day."

Dezoth has been keeping an eye out for anyone looking for Aurelie, and I've appreciated his discretion through this.

"She seems healthy," he observes, taking a half-step closer. "Ada says she's doing well."

Something shifts in his expression, a softening so subtle most wouldn't catch it. But I've worked alongside Dezoth long enough to read the microscopic changes in his demeanor. There's a story there—one he's never shared fully, though rumors circle the barracks about a human woman from his past.

I nod, feeling oddly protective in a way that feels foreign yet instinctual. Sephy stirs against me, making that soft cooing sound that does strange things to my chest. He may be great with Rose, but he's never been around an infant before.

"Would you like to hold her?" The question surprises even me. Dezoth isn't exactly known for his warm and cuddly personality. In fact, I've seen him make new recruits nearly piss themselves with just a look. But I've also seen him host sparkle tea parties with his little girl.

He hesitates, golden eyes unreadable. Then he extends his hands, the ritual markings on his forearms shifting as he removes his gloves and tucks them into his belt.

"She's not as fragile as she looks," I say, carefully transferring her small form into his waiting hands.

Dezoth accepts her with surprising gentleness, large hands cradling her tiny body with practiced ease. He rocks her once, twice, his expression transforming in a way I've never witnessed before. The hard lines around his eyes soften, and something almost like longing flashes across his features before disappearing behind his usual mask.

"She has demon blood," he murmurs, one finger ghosting over her delicate cheek. "Strong, from the feel of it."

"That's what Ada says. Thinks her father must be high-ranking."

Dezoth's eyes narrow slightly. "High enough to come looking for them both."

I nod, watching him with the baby. And I see it in the way he holds her, in the careful movement as he adjusts her blanket. No one holds an infant like that without practice or memory.

But I remember how Dezoth lost a child. How he knows the pain and grief I harbor and still he took in Ada and Rose. He was always meant to be a father and now he has a sweet daughter who covers everything in glitter.

Sephy squirms in his arms, tiny fists emerging from her swaddling. One catches on Dezoth's silver cord, tugging it loose. His hair falls forward, partially obscuring his face as he looks down at her.

"She has your number already," I say, the corner of my mouth lifting.

"Smart girl." Something that might almost be a smile touches his lips. "Takes after her mother in that regard."

The mention of Aurelie makes me glance toward the hallway where she sleeps. Ever since the other night when we admitted our pasts, there's been a new level of understanding between us.

And more tension than I can handle. I've felt protective over Aurelie since I found her. But more and more often, I find myself wanting to touch her, even finding reasons to. She's beautiful in a way I can't stop thinking about, and guilt often fills me when I do. That's not why she's here.

"How long do you plan to keep them here?" Dezoth asks, his voice lowered. His words only remind me how wrong my thoughts are.

---