Page 1 of Demon Daddy's Secret Twins

1

LOXLEY

The morning sun filters through the dense canopy, casting dappled shadows across the worn dirt path. I adjust my twin braids, letting my fingers linger on the familiar patterns as I navigate the twisting jungle trails of Aurelius. These morning walks are my sanctuary - the only time I can truly breathe.

A branch snaps in the distance. My muscles tense before I catch the telltale gleam of obsidian skin through the foliage. He's there again, the demon who's been shadowing me for the past few weeks. His massive form moves with impossible grace between the trees, those midnight-blue wings tucked close to avoid snagging on branches.

I keep walking, pretending I haven't noticed him. But I have. I always do.

At first, I was more on edge when I saw him. But he doesn’t approach me. Doesn’t talk to me. Doesn’t bother me. And I can’t kick him out of the woods, so I’m left with sharing my walks with a man who keeps his distance.

I can’t tell if I hate it.

The path curves around a fallen tree, and I hop over its massive roots, my feet finding purchase on the familiar holds.The humidity plasters my shirt to my skin, but I don't mind. It's better than the dry heat of -no.

I push those memories away. They’ve come less and less, but they still crop up. I wonder if there will ever be a time they won’t plague me. When I won’t wake in a cold sweat, screaming to break free of chains that no longer hold me.

"But what does he want?" I mutter beneath my breath as I see the demon again, almost surprised by the words. Some days, I forget my own voice. It’s so rare I talk now.

It’s better than nights filled with screams.

A flash of copper-red eyes through the leaves. He's closer now, but still maintaining that careful distance. Unlike before Aurelius when no one cared for my preferences, he doesn't push. Doesn't demand. Just... watches. It sets my teeth on edge, makes my skin prickle with awareness.

Mostly because I know how dangerous men can be. And I can’t figure out what he wants.

I pause at a stream crossing, crouching to splash cool water on my face. Through my peripheral vision, I catch him settling onto a high branch, those strange golden lines across his skin catching the sunlight. His horns cast sharp shadows across his face, but his expression remains unreadable.

He doesn't respond. Doesn't move. Just maintains that patient, watchful silence that somehow unnerves me more than any threat could. It’s harder to anticipate than anything else.

I straighten and continue down the path, my hand brushing against the scar on my ribs - a habit I've never managed to break. The demon's presence follows, a constant shadow that refuses to either approach or retreat.

The first time I saw him lingering on the path, I dismissed it as coincidence. Demons occasionally visit our sanctuary, though they rarely venture this deep into the jungle paths. But as theweeks passed, a pattern emerged. Once a week, like the path of the sun, that massive shadow appears among the leaves.

Today marks the fourth time. Not that I’m keeping track.

I pause at my favorite waterfall, the spray cooling my skin as I perch on the smooth rocks. He's there again, settled on a thick branch halfway up an ancient tree. Those copper-red eyes track my movements, but there's no hunger in them - just that same patient observation that makes my chest tight.

I've learned his habits now. He keeps to the trees, those midnight-blue wings folded close. Never approaches. Never speaks. Just watches with an intensity that should frighten me but somehow doesn't. His presence is... different. He doesn't carry that suffocating aura of dominance most demons wear like armor.

The golden lines across his obsidian skin pulse faintly when I get too close to the water's edge, as if he's ready to act if I slip. It's... unsettling. Not his concern - if that's what it is - but how easily I've begun to read his subtle tells.

I shift positions, and his head tilts slightly, horns catching the filtered sunlight. Still maintaining that careful distance. Still silent. But deliberate. Every movement calculated, every position chosen to keep me in sight while giving me space.

My fingers find my scar again, tracing its familiar ridge through my shirt. His eyes follow the movement, something flickering in their depths before his expression smooths back to that unreadable mask.

This strange dance continues through my morning routine. Me, pretending he's not there. Him, making no effort to hide his presence but never pushing for more. It's become almost... comfortable. And that thought terrifies me more than any threat could.

The mist from the waterfall beads on my skin as I watch my reflection ripple in the pool below. His presence lingers above -a constant shadow that refuses to fade into the jungle's depths. My fingers absently trace patterns in the water, disturbing my fractured reflection.

Why does he bother? Week after week, perched in those branches like some otherworldly guardian. No demands. No expectations. Just... there.

One of my braids slip over my shoulder, and I tuck it back with trembling fingers. The demon shifts position, those copper-red eyes tracking the movement. But he doesn't descend. Doesn't try to close the distance between us.

The space he maintains feels deliberate. Calculated. Like he understands something about me that I've never voiced aloud. My chest tightens at the thought.

I hate how my shoulders have slowly begun to relax under his distant watch. Hate how my steps don't falter when I catch glimpses of those midnight-blue wings through the canopy. Hate how a small, traitorous part of me finds comfort in his steady presence.

The golden lines across his obsidian skin pulse softly as I stand, responding to some unspoken tension. But still, he doesn't move. Doesn't speak. Just observes with that patient intensity that sets him apart from every other man - human or demon - who's tried to claim space in my life.

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