Page 36 of Demon Daddy's Hidden Daughter
"Had a good day at the falls, I see," she whispers, her eyes crinkling with fondness.
"The best," Rhyen murmurs as I set the basket aside and we head for the stairs. "She wore herself out completely."
In Ava's bedroom—which she has started to sleep in alone—he lays her down with the careful precision of someone who's done this before, easing her onto the soft mattress without jarring her awake. Her room is bathed in warm afternoon light, the gauzy curtains filtering the sun into something soft and dreamlike.
I hover in the doorway, watching as he pulls a light blanket over her sleeping form, tucking it around her shoulders with gentle hands. She shifts slightly, mumbling something incoherent, and he freezes until she settles again.
The sight of this powerful man being so tender with my daughter makes my heart ache in the most wonderful way. Makes me want things I've never let myself want before.
"Thank you," I whisper as he joins me in the doorway. "She had a lot of fun today. We both had a lot of fun."
He pulls Ava's door almost closed, leaving just a crack so we can hear if she wakes, then turns to face me in the sitting room of the suite. The afternoon light from the window at the far end catches in his silver hair, making him look almost ethereal.
"That's all I ever want," he says simply. "For you both to be happy."
The sincerity in his voice, the quiet conviction, makes my chest tight. He means it. This isn't about duty or obligation or even desire—though I've seen that burning in his eyes too. It's about genuine care. About wanting our joy for its own sake.
"We are," I tell him, and it's the truth in ways that terrify me. "Happier than we've ever been."
Something shifts in his expression at that admission. Heat and tenderness and something deeper that makes my pulse skip. For a moment, I think he might reach for me, might close the small distance between us in this shadowed hallway.
Instead, he smiles—soft and warm and devastating in its restraint.
"Good," he murmurs, echoing Ava's earlier sentiment. "I'll let you get cleaned up and rest as well."
He turns and walks toward his own room, leaving me standing there with that gentle smile burned into my memory and my heart hammering against my ribs.
With Ava asleep, I'm soaking in the copper tub in the bathroom, letting the hot water ease muscles I didn't realize were tense. Steam rises around me, scented with the bath salts Lira insisted I try, and for the first time all day, I'm alone with my thoughts.
They're dangerous thoughts.
I can't stop thinking about the way Rhyen looked at me at the waterfall. How his eyes tracked the water droplets on my skin like he wanted to chase them with his tongue. The way his voice roughened when he spoke to me, like keeping his distance was costing him something.
He wants me. I saw it in every stolen glance, felt it in the careful way he kept himself just out of reach. The knowledge should terrify me—want has always meant pain in my experience. But instead, it sends heat spiraling through my belly, makes me restless in ways I've never allowed myself to be.
Why is he holding back?
The question has been circling my mind all evening, growing more insistent with each passing hour. Is it because of what I told him? Because he thinks I'm too broken, too damaged by what happened with my master?
Or is it because he's trying to be honorable? Trying not to pressure me into something he thinks I'm not ready for?
The thought makes me want to scream with frustration. I'm so tired of being afraid of good things. So tired of letting my past dictate my future. So tired of wondering what it would feel like to have those strong hands on my skin, those soft lips against mine.
I want him. The realization hits me with startling clarity as I run the washcloth over my arms, my shoulders, everywhere his eyes lingered today. I want Rhyen Sarenthil with an intensity that should probably frighten me.
It doesn't. For the first time in my life, wanting feels like freedom instead of weakness.
I climb out of the tub and dry off with quick, efficient movements, my decision crystallizing with each passing second. I'm done waiting. Done wondering. If he wants me—and I know he does—then maybe it's time to find out what happens when we stop fighting it.
The thin nightdress I pull on is one of several Lira bought for me, soft cotton that falls to just below my knees. It's modest by most standards, but it clings to my curves in ways that make me acutely aware of my body. Of what I'm about to do.
My bare feet make no sound on the polished stone floors as I pad down the hallway toward Rhyen's room. Nerves dance under my skin, making my hands shake slightly, but I don't stop. Can't stop.
For the first time in my life, I want something—someone—and I'm ready to ask for it.
18
RHYEN
