Page 43 of Nanny for the Demon's Twins

I think it's adorable that she's shy about what I do to her, though I hate to think of the reasons why she shies away from talking about sex. I'm working on changing that for her, replacing her memories and her emotions associated with them in every way I can.

"They're getting stronger." She accepts the plate, her fingers brushing mine. "Especially with their transformations."

"Ash could do that at their age." The words slip out before I can stop them. "He was very powerful, very good at manipulating things the way the twins do where I focused more on runes."

Mira shifts closer, her shoulder pressing against my arm. "Tell me about them?"

I take a long drink of wine. This wasn't the kind of conversation I imagined but I've never told Mira no and I don't intend to start now.

"Sarah was the practical one. Always had herbs drying in the kitchen, knew exactly what to do when the girls got sick. Ash..." My throat tightens. "He'd sing to them. Had a horrible voice, but they'd laugh and reach for him." A smile touches my lips.

"You sing to them too."

"Only when they can't sleep. Though I hope I don't sound like a dying animal like he did," I chuckle softly as I pick at my food. "Sometimes I wonder if I'm doing this all wrong. They need a mother's touch, someone gentle. I'm just..." I hold up my scarred hands.

"The gentlest man I've ever known." Mira covers my hand with hers. If only she knew what my hands have done. They've withstood forge fire, they've been covered in blood from stupid fights, they've ripped people and things to shreds from the anger I've worked hard to master. "You dropped everything to raise them. Changed your entire life, learned to braid hair, stayed up countless nights."

"Still feels like I'm failing them sometimes."

"You're not." She meets my eyes. "They're happy, loved, safe. Sarah and Ash would be proud."

"Sarah would laugh at my attempts at fancy hairstyles."

"Luna's triple braid was... creative."

I snort. "It fell apart in ten minutes. Nova wouldn't let me try again for a week."

She only giggles at that. We eat in comfortable silence, watching the lights dance above us. Mira leans against my chest, and I wrap an arm around her waist.

"They'd have loved you," I murmur into her hair. "Sarah always said I needed someone to keep me in line."

And Mira would have loved Sarah. She was definitely louder, bolder, than Mira, but I think they would have balanced each other out.

I shift back onto the blanket, pulling Mira with me. She settles against my chest, her hair tickling my chin as we gaze up at the stars peeking through the ancient branches. The floating lights dim slightly, as if sensing our desire to stargaze.

Her fingers trace idle patterns on my arm. "I used to do this as a child. Count the stars until I fell asleep."

"Outside?"

"Mm. We had this little patch of roof outside my window." Her voice grows distant, lost in memory. "I'd sneak out there when everyone was asleep."

I tighten my hold on her waist, knowing how rare these glimpses into her past are. She never talks about what happened, about the brand on her wrist that I want to kiss and curse away at the same time.

"What did you dream about? Up on that roof?"

She's quiet for so long I think she won't answer. When she does, her voice is barely a whisper. "I always wanted to paint," she whispers. "But my family was poor and we all worked until…" Her voice catches. "Until they had nothing left to sell but me."

My teeth grit together so hard that I fear they might break. I have to swallow back my rage, hating that the only people who were supposed to protect her made her pay for their problems.

"After that, I stopped dreaming," she admits. "There was only one thing I wanted. A family. Just... having people who were mine. Who I belonged to." Her fingers still on my arm. "It sounds silly now."

"It's not silly." I press my lips to her temple, breathing in the scent of her hair to calm myself. Of course she'd want someone to care for her after everything she had been through, the way she'd been treated. "Not silly at all."

Something in my chest aches, fierce and protective. Because she is mine now - mine and the twins'. Part of our mismatched, magical, chaotic family. I want to tell her this, but the words stick in my throat.

Instead, I guide her hand to where a constellation burns bright overhead, needing to take us off this path before I demand names and end our first date in bloodshed as I hunt down everyone who has ever caused her hardship.

"See those three bright stars? The twins love that one. They call it the Cookie Jar because Nova swears it looks like where Mrs. Blackwood keeps her treats."

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