Page 50 of Demon Daddy's Baby Girl

When the carriage stops, Kaelith doesn't wait for his servants. He drags me out himself, his grip crushing my upper arm exactly where his ownership mark burns my skin.

"Welcome home, Aurelie," he whispers in my ear as he forces me up the grand staircase.

The servants we pass avert their eyes. None will help me. None ever did.

He takes me higher and higher, up winding stairs I've never been allowed to climb before. The tower. Where he keeps things he wants to punish slowly.

"I had this prepared specially," Kaelith explains, as if showing me an honored guest chamber. He throws open the heavy door and shoves me inside.

The room is circular, stone walls covered in ritual markings that pulse with malevolent light. I recognize some of the symbols—binding runes, strength-dampeners, pain enhancers. This isn't just a prison cell; it's a torture chamber designed specifically for me.

"Do you like what I've done with it?" His voice is light, conversational. "I needed something that would hold you properly this time."

When I don't respond, his face darkens. The boot comes fast—a sharp kick to my ribs that leaves me gasping on the floor. The pain radiates through my abdomen, and I curl around it instinctively, thinking of Sephy, grateful she's safe with Rolfo. For now.

"You'll learn to answer when spoken to." Kaelith straightens his immaculate jacket. "You seem to have forgotten your training."

My arms shake with rage and helplessness as I push myself to my knees. I think of Sephy's tiny fingers, of Rolfo's warm eyes, of the life I glimpsed for just a moment—and something inside me hardens.

"I will n-never be what I was," I manage, tasting blood from where I've bitten my tongue.

He approaches slowly, kneeling beside where I sit huddled against the wall. With exaggerated gentleness, he brushes a lock of hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear.

"You'll be mine again," he says softly, his voice almost tender. "Just like before."

I gather all my hatred, my fear, my defiance into a single act—and spit at his feet.

"Never."

Kaelith merely smiles and draws a small silver key from his pocket, removing the gag but leaving the cuffs. "We'll see."

He leaves me then, locking the door with an enchantment I know no ordinary key will break.

Hours pass and my body starts to give out. Even though I try to fight it, I fall into a fitful sleep. I dream of Sephy, her tiny body trembling with sobs that shred my heart like claws. Her silver-blonde curls are matted with tears, her violet eyes searching desperately for me in a darkness that grows deeper by the second. I reach for her, but my arms aren't long enough, they never are.

Rolfo appears behind her, his broad shoulders curved protectively as he lifts her with those scarred, gentle hands. The same hands that built her crib, that caught her when she entered this world. He cradles her against his chest, whispering words I cannot hear, and her crying softens. His mercury eyes find mine across the void, filled with a promise I desperately want to believe.

"I'll find you," his lips form the words, but no sound reaches me.

Then the darkness between us thickens, roiling like smoke, taking the shape of horns and claws and that terrible, familiar smile?—

I wake screaming, the sound tearing from my throat before I can stop it. My body jackknifes upward, hands flying out to grab Sephy, to protect her—but they catch only air. The shadow-cuffs burn against my skin as reality crashes back.

The circular room. The ritual markings. The cold stone beneath me.

Alone.

My breath comes in ragged gasps that echo off the walls. Sweat dampens my hair, plastering the auburn strands against my temples and neck. I push myself up to sitting, wincing as my bruised ribs protest. The light filtering through the single narrow window tells me it's morning, though the sky over Ikoth is perpetually crimson.

"Sephy," I whisper her name like a talisman. "At least he didn't get you."

I close my eyes and picture her safe in Rolfo's arms. The gruff demon who found me in that alley, who cut my daughter's umbilical cord with shaking hands, who transformed his study into a nursery filled with more love than I believed possible. The man who touched me like I was something precious instead of something owned.

A bitter laugh escapes me. "And I thought I couldn't trust a demon."

The silence that follows my words is thick, suffocating—a living thing pressing against my skin, reminding me that no one will answer. No infant's coo. No deep, rumbling response. Just emptiness and the faint hum of the magical wards inscribed on every surface.

I drag myself to my feet, ignoring the pain, and approach the window. It's too narrow to escape through, positioned too high on the tower wall for anyone to climb in—or out. From here, I can see the sprawling grounds of the Shadowfall estate, the hedges trimmed into perfect geometric shapes, the gardens where rare flowers bloom year-round thanks to expensive enchantments.

---