Page 12 of Demon Daddy's Secret Twins

Sunlight filters through the woven branches of my treehouse as I pull a light tunic over my head. The fabric catches on my ribs where that old scar lies, and I pause, fingertips tracing the jagged line. Memories threaten to surface, but I push them down. Not today.

My reflection stares back at me from the polished glass - golden-brown eyes that have seen too much, auburn braids I've woven tight against my scalp. It's become a morning ritual, this careful arrangement of myself. Like armor, but softer.

Mazan will be here today. The thought slides in unbidden, and my hands still on the leather ties of my boots. He's different from any man - any being - I've ever known. Seven feet of pure demon strength, yet he moves through our village like shadow given form, those copper-red eyes missing nothing.

Something’s changing between us. I’m not even sure what to make of it, given I’ve never been close to anyone. I was sold as a child and only knew a life of being used by dark elves before now. But we’ve been…teasing. Smiling.Laughing.

Something I didn’t even know either one of us could do.

And Mazan has been coming down more than once a week. I try to ignore the way my stomach flutters at that thought, but I am actually looking forward to it. Tohim.

A branch scrapes against my window, and I flinch before I can stop myself. Old habits. But thinking of Mazan's presence loosens something in my chest. His massive wings that could snap bones instead shield us from rain during supply deliveries. Those deadly horns that should terrify me somehow make me feel... protected.

"You're being ridiculous," I mutter to myself, adjusting my belt with more force than necessary. "He just wants to be friends.”

But that's not quite true. I've seen him with others - respectful, efficient, but distant. With me, there's something else. Something in the way those molten eyes track my movements, not with hunger like the dark elves, but with a steadiness that feels like... care.

It scares me more than any threat ever could.

Just like it terrifies me when my heart leaps at the sight of him waiting at the entrance to the jungle path. I know that others have seen him - even June has mentioned it to me, clearly knowing something has changed - and yet, he just waits for me there.

“Morning, Lox,” he says fondly, and a smile tugs at my lips.

My instinct is to squish it. I’m not even sure when that started to happen.

“Good morning,” I murmur as I brush past him.

As we walk, I steal glances at him when I think he isn't looking. The morning sunlight catches on those gold lines etched into his obsidian skin, making them shimmer like molten metal. His wings are folded tight against his broad back, but they twitch occasionally when branches brush too close.

We walk in comfortable silence, the jungle alive around us with rustling leaves and distant bird calls. I've learned to read his moods in these quiet moments - the slight tilt of his horns when he's alert, the way his copper eyes soften when they meet mine.

A twig snaps ahead and my body goes rigid. Fear pounds through me, reminders of why I shouldn’t be letting my guard down as I have. It grips me, taking away my ability to smile or my willingness to joke - things I’ve only felt again in Mazan’s presence as of the last few weeks.

And then I see it.

Through the gathering dusk, two eyes gleam an unnatural green. The likar emerges from the underbrush, its sleek form rippling with barely contained magical energy. My muscles scream to run, but terror roots me in place.

Before I can blink, Mazan shifts. One massive wing sweeps around me, creating a living wall between me and the predator. His other wing remains poised, ready. The movement is so smooth, so natural - like he's been protecting me his whole life.

I should feel trapped by his closeness. Instead, warmth blooms in my chest as his magic-rich scent surrounds me - like summer storms and night-blooming flowers. My racing heart steadies. For the first time in years, the urge to flee dissolves under something stronger.

Safety. With him, I feel safe.

Mazan growls low in his chest, staying planted in front of me. I tense, afraid it will pounce. But then I hear the soft pad of footsteps as the likar snarls and leaves.

The likar's retreat leaves only silence in its wake. My breath catches as I process what just happened - not from fear, but from the realization hitting me like a physical force. Mazan's wing still curves around me, the leathery membrane catching the rays of sunlight filtering through the canopy. His warmth radiates against my skin, and for once, I don't feel the need to step away.

His growl fades to a low rumble, but his massive frame remains coiled with tension. Those copper-red eyes scan the undergrowth, tracking the beast's path until he's certain it won't return. The gold lines etched in his obsidian skin pulse with untapped power - magic ready to be unleashed at a moment's notice.

"Are you alright?" His deep voice wraps around me like velvet over steel.

I nod, unable to find words. My fingers brush against his wing before I can stop myself. He doesn't flinch or pull away like I expect. Instead, the membrane quivers slightly under my touch, and his eyes lock onto mine with an intensity that should frighten me.

It doesn't.

The truth settles in my bones - I was never in danger. Not because I could have outrun the likar, or because I had any chance of fighting it off. But because Mazan would never let anything harm me. The realization should send me running. After everything I've survived, trusting anyone this completely goes against every instinct I've built.

Yet here I stand, sheltered by demon wings that could crush bones, protected by hands that could tear trees from the earth, and I've never felt safer. His navy hair falls across his face as he looks down at me, those curved horns catching the dying light. There's something in his expression I've never seen before - or maybe never let myself see.

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