Page 20 of Demon Daddy's Hidden Son
"Kaleen." Her name falls from my lips like prayer, like a plea. I take another step forward, ignoring the way the villagers shift closer to her in protective formation. "I've been looking for you. For two years, I've been?—"
"Looking for me?" She shakes her head, the movement sharp and decisive. "I don't—" Her voice catches, clears, tries again. "I don't know who you are."
The words hit harder than any physical blow I've ever taken. Harder than the time training accident that left the scar at my temple. Harder than watching my father's wings lose theirluster as he aged. They slice through me with surgical precision, finding every vulnerable place and tearing them wide.
"Kaleen, it's me. It's Domiel." I keep my voice gentle despite the chaos rioting through my chest, the way my hands shake before I clench them into fists. "You know me."
My entire heart begs her to run to me. To shake off whatever this is.
But Kaleen keeps staring at me without recognition and it threatens to break me in half.
She just stares at me, blank, empty. Like she really has no clue who I am. The elderly woman—clearly someone with authority here—moves to flank her, those pale green eyes sharp with suspicion.
"She doesn't remember you," the woman says, her voice carrying decades of command. "Whatever you think you know about our Kaleen, stranger, you're mistaken."
OurKaleen. The possessive cuts deep, a reminder that while I've spent two years searching, she's been here. Building connections. Making a place in a world that doesn't include me.
"She's not yours," I say, and the words come out rougher than intended. Dangerous. "She's mine."
The shift in atmosphere is immediate. The herb-scented man takes a step forward, his hands curling into fists. The woman with the book moves closer to Kaleen's other side. Even the mist seems to thicken, as if the village itself rejected my claim.
But it's the expression on Kaleen's face that destroys me. Not recognition. Not even the flicker of familiarity I've been praying for. Just uncertainty, mixed with a little fear. She looks at me like I could be a threat—one I've never been to her. Like I'm exactly the kind of xaphan monster these people have spent generations hiding from.
"I don't know you," she repeats, but her voice wavers. Like she's struggling with it. "I don't remember you."
But as I look into her eyes, I can't accept that. She has to.
She just has to.
I spent two years searching for the woman that owns my soul and now?—
Shehasto remember me.
12
KALEEN
The crowd's voices rise around us like storm winds, overlapping and urgent.
"Get away from her!"
"Xaphan don't belong here!"
"Kaleen, step back!"
But their shouts feel distant, muffled, like hearing voices through deep water. All I can focus on is this stranger who claims to know me. This impossibly tall figure with wings that catch the rune-light like spun silver, whose dark eyes bore into mine with an intensity that makes my chest tight. There's something about the way he says my name—Kaleen—like it belongs in his mouth. Like he's said it a thousand times before.
The nagging sensation in the back of my mind grows stronger, insistent as a knock at a door I'm afraid to open. Not quite memory, but something deeper. Recognition without understanding, like glimpsing your own reflection in unfamiliar glass.
Especially as I look at his eyes. From this distance, they are bright. Maybe silver. Maybe even the silver-blue that haunts my dreams.
"Enough." I raise my voice, cutting through the villagers' protective fury. My hands shake, so I press them flat against my thighs, willing steadiness I don't feel. "Let me just talk to him."
Marnai's sharp eyes narrow on me. "Kaleen, you don't need to?—"
"I can handle this." The words come out calmer than I feel, each syllable carefully controlled. I've learned over two years how to project confidence even when uncertainty claws at my throat. "Please. Give us space."
Tolle steps forward, his broad frame radiating aggression. "That xaphan could?—"
