Page 11 of Bastian

Now more than ever.

My chest feels tight when my thoughts wander to a gorgeous blonde with green eyes and a beautiful heart. Fuck.

“Thank you, Shaw. You can make your rounds while I tuck her in.” I pat his shoulder and move to open her door, but he stops me. “Sir.”

I look over my shoulder at him. “Yes?”

“Ellaiza… she was not herself today.”

Turning to face him, I ask worriedly. “What makes you think that?”

The young man sighs and then continues. “She usually lights up everyone’s day with her smiles, but today she barely laughed. Hell, she didn’t even bust Ares’s and Levy’s balls today.” Shaw steps back, “I don’t know. Maybe I’m overreacting, sir.” He says gruffly.

Nodding once, I turn the knob, opening my daughter’s room. “You worry about my girl?”

“Of course, that’s my job, sir.”

No, it is not his job. His job is to make sure no threats come her way. My job is to worry about her, but I’m thankful regardless.

Stepping inside the room, my mood instantly brightens when I see my child sitting at her desk writing in her little pink journal. To my utter dismay, my daughter is crazy about the color pink. Everything in her room is either silver or pink, and I know that is all because of the woman who brought me back to life.

When Ellaiza was a toddler, Arianna used to dress her up in pink and only bought her girly clothes so of course, my daughter grew up to be a girly girl, just like her best friend.

A best friend.

The best friend she used to call mommy.

Fuck, I have the sudden urge to vomit.

When the reality of my mistake hits me, I am helpless against it.

Holding back the pain, I smile when my daughter turns around and offers me a small grin. “Hello, father.”

Frowning, I walk towards her, snatch her from the seat and take her into my arms.

“What have I told you about calling me that? When you turn thirty, you can call me father if you wish to do so, but until then. It’s daddy to you.”

She sighs dramatically, as if I am being ridiculous. “It’s no big deal, daddy.” She says playfully, making me smile, but I know she did it to placate me. When did my six-year-old become so wise and sarcastic?

The brat…

That’s who created my beautiful little monster who sometimes is as sweet as can be, and other times… she gives me a run for my money.

How her tiny body holds so much sass is beyond me.

Kissing her cheek slowly, I carry her to bed, and then tuck her in. Taking a seat at the edge of the bed, I push a soft raven curl behind her ear. My baby is so beautiful. She no longer has the baby fat that used to melt my heart when she was smaller, but her chubby face, gentle eyes, and blinding smile remain.

What in the fuck am I going to do when she grows up?

Maybe I can hide her away and keep her from danger…especially the dangers who have dicks. Christ. She’s already boy crazy. It doesn’t escape me the way she looks at Shaw. As if the guard hangs the stars for her.

“Tu m’as manqué, mon coeur.” I whisper, and watch as her face lights up and a smile breaks.

Fuck, I love my kid.

“Tu m’as plus manqué.” Laughing, I poke her small nose.

My daughter is a genius. No, I am not being one of those parents that believe their kids are geniuses just because they learn to walk before most kids.

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