Page 26 of Demon Daddy's Little Girl

The conviction in those two words steals my breath. His ritual markings seem to shimmer in the lamplight as he reaches across the table, his large hand settling near mine - not touching, but close enough that I feel its warmth.

"No one will harm either of you while you're under my protection." His words carry the weight of an oath.

Rose beams at him, and something in my chest cracks at the sight. This demon, this Elite Guard Captain who strikes fear into criminals with a single look, sits at his table wearing a tiny flowercrown my daughter made him. His obsidian hair, usually so pristine, has a few strands escaping their silver binding because Rose couldn't resist playing with it.

"See, Mama?" Rose's small hand finds mine. "We don't have to be scared anymore."

I meet Dezoth's gaze then, and the pride in his expression - pride at being trusted by this tiny half-demon child - mingles with something deeper, something that makes my heart thunder against my ribs.

After dinner, I guide Rose up the wooden stairs, her tiny hand clutched in mine. Her steps drag, heavy with exhaustion from her excitement over "sword practice" with Dezoth.

"Arms up." I help her change into her nightgown, the soft fabric settling over her curls. She yawns, revealing that adorable gap where her tooth used to be.

"Mama?" Rose crawls under the blankets, her violet eyes bright even in her sleepiness. "Can we stay here with Cappy Dez forever?"

My hands freeze in the middle of tucking her in. "Rose-"

"He's nice." She pulls her stuffed rabbit closer. "And he makes you smile. Like this morning when he put sparkles in the pancakes just because I asked."

Heat creeps up my neck as I remember Dezoth's satisfied expression when Rose squealed over the magical shimmer in her breakfast. How his usual stern demeanor melted away as she insisted on "helping" him clean up, even though she mostly just spread the mess further.

"And he reads stories better than anyone." Rose continues, fighting another yawn. "He does all the voices, like you said Papa used to."

My chest tightens at the comparison. She can't even remember her own father, even though I have tried to keephis memory alive, but somehow Dezoth has filled that void so naturally, so completely...

"Please, Mama?" Her small fingers find mine. "I like having a home again. And Cappy Dez keeps us safe."

I sink onto the edge of the bed, smoothing back those honey-blonde curls so like mine. The warmth of this room, the soft glow of the magical night light Dezoth crafted specially for her, the lingering scent of his cooking downstairs - it all feels so right. So peaceful.

Dezoth's presence has become as natural as breathing. The way he moves through his home with quiet strength, how he adjusts his stride to match Rose's tiny steps, the gentle way he explains things...

"Mama?" Rose's voice grows drowsy.

I open my mouth to answer, but the words stick in my throat. Because she's right - I do smile more here. With him. I'm not really sure how it's happened, but I'm letting someone in - a demon, no less.

"Sweet dreams, my love." I kiss her forehead, unable to give her the answer she wants. Or maybe just unable to admit it to myself.

I curl up in bed, Rose tucked into my side, staring at the wooden beams above. Moonlight filters through the curtains, casting silver patterns across my room. My fingers drift to the spot where Dezoth's hand brushed mine in the garden earlier today. The warmth of his touch lingers, a ghost of sensation that makes my heart flutter.

"You have excellent instincts for herbs," he'd said, his deep voice soft as we worked side by side. Those ritual markings on his forearms caught the sunlight as he reached past me for a spade. "These will make fine healing potions. I'm lucky I found you."

Now, I press my palm to my chest, remembering how he moved with such careful grace despite his intimidating size. How those golden eyes tracked my every movement, not with suspicion or possession, but with something that made my cheeks flush.

The way he is with Rose...

I roll onto my side, pulling the blanket tighter. Just months ago, I would have run at the first sign of a demon's interest. But Dezoth isn't like the others. He doesn't demand or take. He offers, protects, teaches.

I don't know how to handle it. And I'm terrified to trust it.

This morning, I found him in the kitchen covered in flour because Rose wanted to "help" make breakfast. His obsidian hair had white streaks in it, and that silver cord was hanging loose. But instead of anger, his eyes crinkled with amusement as she giggled.

"Your daughter," he'd said, catching my gaze, "has quite the talent for chaos."

The pride in his voice, the way he included me in the moment rather than trying to replace me - it struck something deep inside that I thought had died with Arzollon.

I touch my collarbone where the scar marks my escape. Dezoth has never asked about it, never pushed for details of our past. He simply offers his strength, his home, his... heart?

My fingers tremble at the thought. Am I brave enough to reach for happiness again? To trust that this demon with his rare smiles and gentle hands won't shatter everything like Arzollon’s father did?

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