Page 47 of Demon Daddy's Hidden Daughter
A tiny sniffle echoes from beneath one of the wooden benches along the wall. I approach slowly, the way I would a wounded animal, and drop to my knees beside it. Two violet eyes, bright with unshed tears but fierce with determination, peer out at me from the shadows.
"Hey there, little warrior." My voice comes out rougher than intended.
She crawls out, her black curls wild with static and bits of dust, and launches herself at me with the full force of her small body. Her arms wrap around my neck so tight I can barely breathe, her legs clinging to my waist like she's afraid I'll disappear if she lets go.
"Daddy." The word comes out muffled against my throat, followed by a shuddering breath. "Daddy, I was so scared."
Something in my chest cracks wide open. She'd called me that before, in the heat of the moment, but hearing it now—deliberate, desperate, repeated like a prayer—undoes me completely.
"Daddy's here." The words fall from my lips without thought, without hesitation. "Daddy's got you."
Her small body trembles against mine, and I wrap my wings around us both, creating a cocoon of warmth and safety. She burrows deeper into my embrace, her face pressed so firmly against my neck I can feel her tears soaking through my shirt.
"I hid like you taught me," she whispers, her voice small but proud. "I waited for you to come get me."
"You did perfect, sweetheart. So brave, so smart." I press my lips to the top of her head, breathing in the familiar scent of the soap Lenny uses in her hair. "You're mine, Ava. Forever and always. No one will ever hurt you while I'm breathing."
She pulls back just enough to look at me, those extraordinary eyes searching my face. "Promise?"
"I promise." The vow settles into my bones like an oath sworn before the gods. "You're my girl. My brave, strong girl."
Her smile blooms slow and radiant, transforming her tear-streaked face. "I love you, Daddy."
The words hit me like a physical blow. I've commanded armies, faced down demons and dragons, survived wars that claimed better men than me. But this four-year-old girl with her fierce heart and unwavering trust has brought me to my knees with three simple words.
"I love you too, little one." My voice cracks on the endearment. "More than all the stars in the sky."
I stand, lifting her with me, and she immediately curls into that perfect spot against my shoulder where she fits like she was made for it. Her legs wrap around my waist, her arms circle my neck, and she buries her face in the curve where my throat meets my shoulder.
The walk home passes in a blur of whispered promises and gentle assurances. I tell her about the garden waiting for us, about Tovren probably already planning to spoil her with treats, about her mother who's certainly pacing the floor with worry. With each word, I feel her small body relax further into mine, the tension bleeding out of her muscles.
"We'll have breakfast together," I murmur, pressing another kiss to her curls. "All three of us. And afterward, we'll sit by the fire and you can tell me what story you want to hear."
"The one about the princess and the dragon," she mumbles sleepily against my neck.
"The one where the dragon becomes her friend?"
"Mmhmm. 'Cause dragons aren't always bad. Just misunderstood."
The innocent wisdom of it makes my throat tight. How can someone so small understand something so profound when adults spend lifetimes missing the point?
Her breathing begins to even out as we near the estate, exhaustion finally overtaking the fear that's kept her running on pure adrenaline. By the time I push through the front gates, she's fully asleep in my arms, trusting me completely to carry her home safe.
But as the house comes into view, reality crashes back over me like ice water. Lenny. What will I tell Lenny? How do I explain that her daughter called another man Daddy and that I answered without hesitation? That somewhere in the space of a few terrifying hours, I've claimed this child as irrevocably as if I'd sired her myself?
The thought of losing them—of Lenny deciding I'm too dangerous, too possessive, too much—threatens to bring me to my knees. Not just because I can't lose Ava but because I meant what I told Lenny. Now that I've had a taste of her, I can't let her go.
But as I look down at Ava's peaceful face, her small hand fisted in my shirt even in sleep, I know there's no going back. This child is mine now, in every way that matters. And I'll fight the gods themselves before I let anyone take her from me.
Even if that someone is her mother.
25
LENNY
The moment I hear footsteps on the gravel path, I'm already moving. My bare feet slap against the stone steps as I rush outside, my heart hammering so hard I can taste copper in my mouth. The sight that greets me nearly brings me to my knees.
Rhyen's massive form moves toward the house like something out of a dream, his wings folded protectively around whatever he carries. But I can see a small arm draped over his shoulder, black curls spilling against his neck, and the relief that crashes through me is so violent I have to grip the stone railing to stay upright.
