Page 43 of Demon Daddy's Little Girl

I return inside to find the kitchen empty, breakfast dishes already cleared away. Through the window, I spot Ada and Rose in the garden, their matching honey-blonde hair catching the morning light. Ada kneels in the herb bed, showing Rose how to properly pull weeds without disturbing the fragrant plants.

My study calls, work waiting that can't be delayed. But first, I need to ensure they're safe. I stride through the house, checking each window, each door. My wards pulse strong and steady, but I reinforce them anyway. No one will breach these walls.

In my study, a splash of color catches my eye. A new drawing sits pinned to my desk with one of Rose's sparkly hair ribbons. The paper shows three figures - one towering with black hair, one smaller with yellow braids, and a tiny one with curls. Purple sparkles float around them, clearly my magic at work. In wobbly, uncertain letters, she's written "Cappy Dez" with an arrow pointing to the tall figure.

My chest tightens. Such a simple thing, this child's drawing. But it marks me as family, claims me as surely as I've claimed them.

"Look, Mama! The purple ones are blooming!" Rose's delighted voice drifts through the window.

"Careful of the thorns, Rose." Ada's gentle warning follows.

I trace the crude figures with one finger. My size difference is exaggerated, making me appear like a protective giant beside them. Perhaps that's how Rose sees me - her guardian against the darkness. The thought settles like an oath in my bones.

The kidnapper in custody will talk. I'll make certain of it. Anyone who dares threaten children like Rose, who targets families like mine - they'll learn why demons are feared. Why I'm feared.

I carefully smooth the drawing's crumpled edge. This - this moment of peace, this precious trust - I'll defend it with everything I am.

19

ADA

The sharp rap at the door startles me from my book. Rose barely glances up from her sprawl of papers and colored wax sticks on the floor, lost in her own world of art and imagination.

Through the door's viewing panel, I spot the black and silver uniform of the City Guard. My shoulders ease - Dezoth's men often stop by with messages, usually only when he's home, though.

I smooth my braid and open the door. "Can I help you?"

The guard bows, his movements precise. "Message for Captain Blackwood regarding patrol updates." His dark eyes drift past me to where Rose hums and draws.

"I can leave it in his study. Please, come in." I step aside, keeping myself between him and Rose.

"Thank you, miss. Won't take but a moment." His boots click against the wooden floor as he enters.

Rose perks up, violet eyes bright. "Look at my drawing! It's a sparkly dragon." She holds up her creation - more scribbles than dragon, but her enthusiasm radiates.

The guard's smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Quite talented." His gaze lingers on her unusual eyes, that calculating look making my skin crawl.

"Do you want me to make you one?" Rose bounces to her feet, already reaching for fresh paper.

"Rose, the guard is busy-" I start.

"No trouble at all." He settles into a chair, watching her with unsettling intensity as she works. His fingers drum against his thigh in a steady rhythm.

Rose chatters while she draws. "And then Cappy Dez showed me how to make my magic sparkle different colors. Purple is my favorite but blue is pretty too."

I hover near them, every instinct screaming danger. The guard's smile remains fixed, predatory, as Rose presents him with her finished artwork.

"Lovely." He tucks the paper away and rises. "I should deliver that message now."

I lead him to Dezoth's study, my heart thundering against my ribs. Only when the front door closes behind him do I allow myself to shake.

My hands won't stop trembling as I lock the door. Something about that guard felt wrong. The way he watched Rose, how he positioned himself to see the entire room-

"Mama, did he like my drawing?" Rose beams up at me, her violet eyes sparkling with pride.

I force a smile. "Of course, sweetheart. Why don't you make one for Dezoth, too?"

While she returns to her art corner, I circle the house. Each window latch, every door - I check them twice. The garden door's iron bolt slides home with a satisfying thunk.

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