Page 27 of Nanny for the Demon's Twins

"Finally down. You should've gone to bed."

"Couldn't leave you alone with two sick ones." She shifts, wincing at what must be a stiff neck. "You looked overwhelmed."

"I was." The admission comes easier than expected. "Still am, most days. But less so since you arrived."

Her eyes widen slightly. I don't usually talk about my emotions, but after everything we went through, I'm feeling oddly out of character. And I need her to know that she is wanted here.

"The twins adore you," I continue, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. "And I—" I clear my throat. "The house works better with you here."

A small smile curves her lips. "I like being here."

The morning light catches the slave brand on her wrist as she tucks the blanket closer. The sight of it still makes my blood boil, but I take a breath, reminding myself that she is safe here now. She's made this space her own. Made us her own, in a way I never expected.

"I'm going to grab a shower," I tell her. "You should rest while they are sleeping."

I retreat before my sleep-deprived brain betrays me further. The urge to touch her, to close that careful distance we maintain, pulses stronger with each passing day. My heavy steps thud against the wooden stairs as I go to the master bathroom.

The shower's enchanted water streams hot over tense muscles. I press my forehead against the cool tile, but it does nothing to wash away thoughts of Mira. The way she hums while cooking. How her fingers brush mine when we're playing with the girls or making dinner. The fierce protectiveness in her eyes when the twins skin their knees.

How she looked at me the one time we almost kissed…

"Fuck." I slam my palm against the wall. The metal fixtures rattle in response to my demonic energy.

She deserves better than a gruff demon. Better than someone who spends his days covered in soot and metal shavings, who can barely string together a proper sentence about feelings. Who can't tell her he wants her to stay here and not just for the twins.

But gods, the way she moves through our home like she belongs here. The sound of her laugh when Luna levitates her toys. How she never flinches from my height or my fangs or my temper.

I turn off the water with more force than necessary. Steam billows around me as I grab a towel, scrubbing roughly at my hair. The mirror shows my violet eyes blazing with frustrated want.

"Get it together," I growl at my reflection. "She's here for the girls."

But is that all? We've had some moments - moments that I think meant something to her. Like the night she asked me to stay, though we've never addressed it since. Was it just a lapse in judgment? Or could she want me too?

I pull on clean clothes, still damp from the shower, and head out of my room. The sound of giggling and pots clanking draws me to the kitchen. The twins sit at the table, their copper curls wild from sleep, while Mira stirs something that smells like herb soup.

"Uncle Karn!" Luna waves her spoon in the air. "We're helping!"

Nova nods seriously, carefully arranging chunks of bread on a plate. Her freckled nose scrunches in concentration.

"I can see that." I ruffle their hair as I pass. "Feeling better?"

"Much better." Luna grins. "Mira made us special tea."

I catch Mira's eye. She gives me a small smile before turning back to the stove. "Just a few herbs and honey. Nothing special."

"It was magic tea," Nova insists. She still works on sorting her bread around.

"Looks very organized." I settle into my chair, watching her methodically arrange the food. She's always been the more precise twin.

Between them sits parchment and colored wax. I point to where Luna is already drawing, abandoning her bread task. "What are you doing, Luna?"

"Drawing!" she answers simply.

"I thought it would be good for them to channel their energy elsewhere at the table." Mira brings over bowls of soup, setting them down with practiced grace. Her fingers brush my shoulder as she passes, and I fight the urge to drag her toward me. She drops her voice. "Hopefully less magic protests."

"Need salt." Luna asks, already raising her hands.

"No magic at the table," Mira and I say in unison.

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