Page 46 of Nanny for the Demon's Twins

He leans forward, his kiss deepening, his tongue dancing with mine in a rhythm that matches his thrusts. His hands trace my skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake. He breaks the kiss but doesn't move more than that, his eyes lock on mine. It only deepens the feeling in my chest.

"Never felt anything better than you, Mira," he whispers, his voice ragged with desire. "Never wanted anything more."

His words make my heart flutter. I arch into him, my body meeting his with every thrust. The sensation of being filled by him, of being wanted by him, is overwhelming. I can feel the pleasure building, a sweet tension that has me gripping his shoulders tightly, my breath coming in short gasps.

"Moan for me," he murmurs, holding my gaze. "I want nothing more than to hear you happy, Mira. In pleasure."

His words send a jolt of desire through me. I can't hold back the sounds that escape my lips, each one echoing through the room, a testament to the pleasure he's giving me.

His body responds to mine, his thrusts becoming harder, deeper. But still, he never looks away. His eyes, intense and full of emotion, remain locked on mine.

"Karn," I whisper, my voice barely audible. His name on my lips feels like a secret, a promise.

His grip on my thigh tightens, his body tensing as he drives into me with a force that makes me cry out louder. The pleasure is intense, overwhelming. I can feel the edge approaching, the tension building to a breaking point.

"That's it, Mira," he groans, his voice deep and rough. "Feel it. Feel us."

And I do. I feel everything. The pleasure, the intimacy, the emotion. It's all there, wrapped up in this moment, in this demon. And as the wave of pleasure crashes over me, I know that this, right here, is where I want to be.

19

KARN

The morning sun streams through the window, painting Mira's sleeping form in gold. Her dark hair fans across my pillow, and my chest tightens at how peaceful she looks curled against me. The urge to stay, to wrap her in my arms and forget the world exists, nearly wins. But the forge won't tend itself.

I brush my lips against her temple, breathing in the lingering scent of night flowers from our picnic. She stirs, making a soft sound that tests my resolve.

"Sleep," I whisper, tucking the blanket around her shoulders.

The wooden stairs creak under my weight as I head down to the shop. My fingers trace the railing, but I'm really lost in the memories from last night. The way her eyes lit up when she spotted the constellations. The way she felt curled up against me as we talked - as she told me things that made me feel like this is real between us.

The forge stands cold, waiting. I strike the flint, watching sparks catch the kindling. Some demons use magic, but I think the flint produces a steadier fire and I can pour all my magic into the runes.

The bellows pump steadily as I build the fire, but my usual morning routine feels different. Brighter. The shop that's been my sanctuary for years, but right now, I'd rather be upstairs.

I touch the scar across my eyebrow, remembering how she traced it last night, asking its story. No pity in her eyes when I told her about protecting my brother. Just understanding. Acceptance.

The forge roars to life, but for once the day's work doesn't hold my full attention. My thoughts keep drifting upstairs, to the woman who's somehow slipped past every wall I've built. Who fits into my life, my family, like she was always meant to be here.

I want to forge her future with mine, to protect her from anyone who'd try to cage her spirit again. To wake up every morning with her hair spread across my pillow.

The metal heats, and I grab my hammer. My eyes skim over the projects I need to be working on before landing on what I'm truly after.

The protection bracelet gleams on my workbench, delicate spirals intertwined with runes of safety and peace. I trace each curve with calloused fingers, checking the spellwork one final time. The twins' magic pulses pure and sweet beneath my own darker power, their contribution woven through the metal like threads of sunrise.

"Just needs the clasp." My voice echoes in the empty workshop.

The final pieces click together under my hands. Simple work compared to the complex enchantments, but I triple-check every link. The thought of Mira's scarred wrist wearing my work, my protection, sends a possessive heat through my blood. And I know she'll be safe if I'm ever not there for her.

Though I'd have to be dead for that to happen.

I set the finished bracelet aside and pull fresh metal from the forge. It gleams, a twin to the bracelet I just finished, glowing white-hot and ready for shaping.

I barely think as I start my work. My hammer falls in familiar rhythm as I begin forming a band, each strike precise. This piece needs to be perfect.

A mating ring.

The thought stops my hammer mid-swing.

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