Page 36 of Demon Daddy's Baby Girl

"Morning," I say, keeping my voice low.

She startles slightly but doesn't drop the mug. Progress. A week ago, she would have jumped a foot in the air.

"You're up early," she says, turning to face me.

The morning light catches the gold flecks in her hazel eyes. There are still shadows beneath them, but fewer than before. She's healing, slowly. She would be fine by now if she wasn't starved and feverish when I found her. But her body had so much more to recover from.

"Couldn't sleep," I admit, moving to pour myself some tea. "You?"

"Same." She cradles her mug between her palms. "Sephy actually slept through the night, but I kept waking up anyway."

I take a sip, studying her over the rim of my cup. Her shoulders are tense, her eyes constantly darting to the windows, the doors. She's still afraid. Still doesn't feel safe.

"I want to teach you something today," I say, setting my mug down. "If you're willing."

Her brow furrows. "Teach me what?"

"How to fight."

Her eyes widen. "I'm not... I don't think I could ever?—"

"Not to hurt others," I clarify quickly. "To protect yourself. And Sephy."

She sets her mug down, fingers tapping nervously against the ceramic. "I'm not strong like you."

"Strength isn't everything." I lean against the counter, giving her space. "It's about leverage, balance, knowing where to strike. Even someone small can incapacitate someone larger, if they know how."

She considers this, her teeth worrying at her bottom lip. The sight distracts me momentarily, my eyes lingering on her mouth before I force them away.

"Would it... help?" she asks finally. "If something happened?"

The uncertainty in her voice tears at me. She shouldn't have to ask these questions. Shouldn't have to fear what lurks around every corner.

"Yes," I say firmly. "And sometimes, just knowing you can defend yourself changes how you move through the world."

She meets my eyes then, something resolute forming in her gaze. "Alright. Show me."

The morning unfolds in golden tranquility. We set up in the backyard, private and enclosed by the tall wooden fence I built years ago. I position Sephy's portable bassinet in the shade of the porch, where she continues to sleep soundly.

I line up a row of empty jars and sticks along the edge of the yard, makeshift targets for later. Aurelie stands awkwardly in the middle of the grass, her arms wrapped around herself, uncertainty written in every line of her body.

"First," I say, moving to stand beside her, "stance is everything. Your feet need to be solid."

I demonstrate, positioning my feet shoulder-width apart, weight balanced evenly.

"Like this?" She mimics me, but her balance is off.

"Almost."

I hesitate, then gently place my hands on her hips to adjust her position. The contact burns through me, even through the fabric of her dress. I feel her tense beneath my touch, but she doesn't pull away.

"Feet a little wider," I murmur, my voice embarrassingly rough. "There. Feel how your weight is centered now?"

She nods, a flush spreading across her cheeks. "It feels... steadier."

"Good. Now, make a fist."

She curls her fingers inward, thumb tucked inside.

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