Page 32 of Demon Daddy's Hidden Daughter
The morning sun filters through the canopy of silverleaf trees, casting dancing patterns across the garden paths. It's one of those rare days when the world feels lighter somehow—when the weight of survival and fear seems to lift just enough to let something resembling joy creep in.
I refuse to admit it's because Rhyen is home all day today. He doesn't have to go to work.
"Ready or not, here I come!" Rhyen's voice booms through the garden, deliberately theatrical and wonderfully ridiculous. He's adopted the persona of some terrible beast, complete with exaggerated stomping that makes the ground vibrate beneath my bare feet. "I smell little mortals hiding in my garden!"
Ava's delighted shriek echoes from somewhere near the fountain, followed by the rapid patter of small feet on stone. She's already been "caught" twice, but each time she begs to play again, her violet eyes bright with the kind of pure happiness I've spent four years trying to give her.
I press myself against the rough bark of an ancient oak, heart hammering not from fear but from something I can barely remember—the simple thrill of play. When was the last time Ihid for fun instead of survival? When did I last run because I wanted to rather than because I had to?
"Where could those sneaky little creatures be hiding?" Rhyen continues his performance, his voice carrying that warm undertone that makes my chest flutter in ways I refuse to examine too closely. "Perhaps behind this rosebush? No... Maybe near the herb garden? No, no..."
His footsteps grow closer, deliberately heavy and obvious. He's giving us every chance to escape, to dart to new hiding spots, but something keeps me frozen against the tree trunk. Maybe it's the way the morning light catches in his silver hair when I glimpse him through the leaves. Maybe it's how his usually composed expression has given way to something boyish and unguarded.
Or maybe it's the dangerous realization that I don't want to run anymore. Not from this. Not from him.
That night in the garden a couple days ago scrambled my brain. And now I can't stop thinking of Rhyen in ways I shouldn't.
"Aha!" His triumphant shout comes from the direction of the fountain. "Found you, little one!"
Ava's laughter bubbles up like music, pure and bright. "Catch me if you can!"
More footsteps, more theatrical growling, more giggles. They're putting on quite a show, and I find myself smiling as I listen to them chase each other around the garden. This is what childhood should sound like. This is what safety looks like.
The footsteps change direction, growing louder again. My pulse quickens, and I realize I'm holding my breath as Rhyen's voice draws nearer.
"Now where could that clever little mortal be hiding?" His tone has shifted slightly, still playful but somehow moreintimate. Like he knows exactly where I am and is savoring the anticipation of finding me.
I bite my lip to keep from laughing, pressing harder against the oak's solid trunk. The bark is rough beneath my palms, grounding me in this moment, this strange new reality where I'm allowed to play games instead of run for my life.
"Could she be..." His voice is closer now, maybe ten feet away. "Behind the nightlily bushes?"
A theatrical pause. I can picture him looking around with exaggerated confusion, probably with his hands on his hips and that slight smile that makes my stomach flip.
"No, not there. Perhaps..." Another pause, closer still. "Behind this very tree?"
My heart stops as his shadow falls across me. I look up to find him standing there, one hand braced against the trunk just above my head, celestial blue eyes dancing with mischief and something deeper. His face is flushed from running around the garden, silver hair slightly mussed, and he's looking at me like I'm the most fascinating thing he's ever discovered.
"Found you," he says quietly, and his voice has lost all pretense of monster playacting.
We're close. Closer than we've ever been, close enough that I can see the faint lines around his eyes, the small scar on his chin that I've wondered about. Close enough to catch the scent of him—something clean and warm with hints of the metallic tang that clings to all xaphan.
His free hand comes up slowly, carefully, fingertips barely grazing my cheek. Like he's asking permission with the gesture, giving me every opportunity to pull away. But I don't. Can't. Won't.
"I'll never get enough of your smile," he murmurs, and the words seem to surprise him as much as they surprise me. Theyfall between us like a confession, raw and honest and completely unguarded.
The air around us shifts, grows heavy and warm despite the morning breeze. Everything else fades—the distant sound of Ava's laughter, the whisper of leaves overhead, the solid press of bark against my back. There's only him, only this moment, only the way he's looking at me like I'm something precious instead of something broken.
His thumb traces across my cheekbone with devastating gentleness, and I feel myself lean into the touch before I can stop myself. When did I start trusting him enough for this? When did the careful distance I've maintained start feeling like a cage instead of protection?
He leans closer, and I can feel the warmth radiating from his skin. His gaze drops to my mouth for just a heartbeat before finding my eyes again, and the question there is clear. The choice he's offering me is clear.
And gods help me, I want to say yes. Want to close the remaining distance between us and discover what his mouth tastes like, what those careful hands feel like when they're not being careful anymore. Want to step into whatever this thing growing between us might become.
The realization hits me like cold water. I want this. Want him. Not just his protection or his kindness, but him. All of him. The way he makes Ava laugh, the gentle strength in his hands, the way he looks at me like I'm worth looking at. The way he's spent weeks proving that not all men take without asking, that some actually wait for permission.
My lips part slightly, and I see his pupils dilate in response. He shifts closer, just a fraction, and I can feel his breath against my skin. Time seems suspended, heavy with possibility and want and the terrifying, wonderful knowledge that everything is about to change.
"Rhyen! Rhyen, come find me!" Ava's voice cuts through the moment like a blade, bright and demanding and completely oblivious to what she's interrupting.
