Page 30 of Demon Daddy's Secret Twins

"Of course. They love playing with Isa." June smiles as she looks at her daughter. "Plus, it's good practice."

Kaelar and Sorien rush over when I call them. Sand clings to their bronze skin, their dark hair wild from play. I kneel, pulling them close. "Be good for Aunt June, okay?"

"Promise." Sorien's mismatched eyes meet mine, so serious for a two-year-old.

"Extra dessert?" Kaelar asks, hopeful.

I kiss their foreheads, breathing in their scent. "One treat. Listen to June."

They race off with Isa, Kaelox following behind. June squeezes my shoulder before leading them up the path toward the treehouses.

My feet carry me down the beach, past the usual paths, to a hidden cove where twisted roots create natural benches above the tideline. The spot where Mazan first showed me his wings. Where he promised to protect me, not knowing I'd end up protecting our sons from his world.

I sink onto the roots, letting the crash of waves drown out my thoughts. The setting sun paints the water in shades of copper – the exact color of his eyes. Of Kaelar's eyes.

My fingers dig into rough bark. Three years of building walls, of focusing solely on our boys, of pushing down every memory. But here, in this spot, I let myself remember. The way his obsidian skin gleamed with those faint gold lines. How his navy hair felt tangled in my fingers. The gentle press of his horns against my forehead when he held me.

A sob breaks free. I press my palm to my mouth, muffling the sound though there's no one to hear. The waves won't tell my secrets. Here, just for a moment, I can be the woman who loved a demon, not just the mother who must be strong.

Salt spray mixes with tears on my cheeks. I don't wipe them away.

The air shifts.

My spine tingles with an awareness I haven't felt in three years. Power radiates behind me - dark, familiar magic that makes my heart stutter. I can't breathe. Can't move. Can't trust this feeling.

But my body remembers. Every cell recognizes the presence I tried so hard to forget.

I turn slowly, fingers digging into rough bark. Dying light spills through the canopy, illuminating a figure that haunts my dreams. Obsidian skin with those ethereal gold lines. Thick navy hair wild as ever. Curved black horns rising proud from his forehead. And those eyes - molten copper-red, burning into mine across the distance.

Mazan.

He stands motionless at the tree line, massive wings folded against his back. His face holds that same quiet intensity that I see echoed in Sorien's careful looks. Time hasn't changed him. He's still impossibly tall, still moves with that deadly grace as he takes a step forward.

My legs shake. I grip the twisted roots harder, anchoring myself. This can't be real. I've imagined this moment too many times.

But the magic crackling in the air is real. The way my skin prickles with awareness is real. The ache in my chest threatening to split me open is real.

He takes another step. And another. Moonlight plays across his skin, making those gold lines shimmer. His eyes never leave mine, filled with an emotion I can't - won't - name.

"Loxley." His deep voice breaks the silence, rough with something that sounds like pain.

The sound of my name on his lips shatters what's left of my composure. Three years of carefully constructed walls crumble in an instant.

22

MAZAN

My breath catches in my throat. The sea breeze carries her scent - wild herbs and fresh rain - and for a moment I'm frozen, afraid this is another cruel dream conjured by my mind during those endless nights in chains. But no. She's real. Loxley stands before me, her golden-brown eyes wide with shock, those familiar loose braids dancing in the wind. And I made it back.

My wings ache to wrap around her, to shield her from everything that's kept us apart. The golden lines etched in my obsidian skin pulse with suppressed magic, responding to the storm of emotions threatening to break free.

She's thinner than I remember, her light brown skin sun-kissed from island life. The way she holds herself - tense, ready to bolt - cuts deeper than any wound those xaphan bastards inflicted. I did that to her - to us. My disappearance. But I never thought I’d be gone so long or I would have warned her. Still, I can’t stand the way she’s looking at me right now.

"Loxley." Her name falls from my lips like a prayer. Three years of torture, of watching my companions break one by one until I was the only one left. Three years of holding onto thememory of her face, using it to keep my sanity as they tried to break me.

She takes a step back, those fierce eyes I've dreamed of now full of wariness. The jagged scar I remember tracing that night peeks out from beneath her loose shirt. My hands clench, remembering how she trusted me enough to let me near it, to tell me its story.

As she trusted me enough to let me in.

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