Page 32 of Demon Daddy's Secret Twins

"What? That I'd still be here?" Ice coats my words. "Or that I wouldn't welcome you with open arms?"

His wings shift, midnight blue membrane catching the dying light. "I can explain."

A bitter laugh escapes my throat. "Save it." My feet sink into the sand as I back away. This spot, where we'd spent countless days talking, sharing secrets, building trust - it's tainted now. Just another reminder of how easily people use me. Break me. Take what they want from me like I am nothing, and I refuse tolet it happen again. Or to let anyone get near enough to my boys for them to experience that.

"Please." He reaches out, but I flinch back. His hand drops, those burning eyes dimming. "Just let me-"

"No." The word comes out sharp, final. "You lost that right when you disappeared without a word." My voice cracks, and I hate myself for it. Hate how even now, he can make me feel this raw, this exposed.

The gold lines across his skin flare brighter, his horns catching the last rays of sunlight. But I won't stay to hear whatever excuse he's crafted. Won't let myself be pulled back into his orbit.

I turn away, forcing one foot in front of the other. The sand shifts beneath me, trying to hold me in place, but I push forward. Leave him standing there, a dark sentinel against the dying day.

Let him feel what it's like to be the one left behind.

The morning sunfilters through the dense canopy, dappling the wooden walkways connecting our treehouses. My muscles ache from a restless night, memories of copper-red eyes haunting my dreams. I'd hoped he'd vanish like morning mist - it would fit his pattern.

But there he stands, his massive frame making even Lamain look small as they talk on the platform outside June and Lamain's home. I freeze mid-step, my heart stuttering. The wooden planks creak beneath my feet as I try to backtrack.

"The house near the eastern waterfall is empty." Lamain's deep voice carries across the gap. "It needs some work, but-"

"I appreciate it." Mazan's wings shift, folding tighter against his back. The gold lines across his skin pulse dimly, like dying embers.

"What happened to you..." Lamain shakes his head, his ram-like horns catching the morning light. "I can't imagine."

"I survived." Mazan's words come out clipped, raw. "That's all that matters."

"Aurelius is a refuge." Lamain clasps Mazan's shoulder. "Everyone here has a past they're running from. You'll be safe here."

The irony burns my throat. Safe. Here. With him.

My chest tightens. Three years of silence. Three years of thinking he'd used me and left. But Lamain makes it sound like…

No. I can't let myself wonder. Can't let myself care. I have the boys to think about - our boys. The ones he doesn't even know exist.

I stumble back before they can see me as that implication hits me, my feet tangling in the walkway vines. My hand grips the railing, knuckles white against the worn wood. Mazan. Staying here. The thought loops through my mind, a broken record I can't shut off.

The boys. Gods, the boys. What will they think when they see him? When they realize the father they've never met is suddenly here? My throat closes. They each have so many parts of him. His quiet strength. His patience. His eyes.

I spent all night agonizing over him being back and I didn’t eventhinkabout that.

A breeze rustles through the canopy, carrying his scent. My body remembers before my mind can stop it. Remembers days spent talking, his wings creating a cocoon around us. Remembers feeling safe for the first time since escaping the dark elves.

But he left. Without a word, without a trace.

And I don’t want to hear excuses just so he can use me again.

My hand drifts to the scar along my ribs - a reminder that no one has good intentions. The jagged line burns under myfingertips as I watch him talk with Lamain, his massive frame somehow both intimidating and achingly familiar.

Why did he leave? The question claws at my throat, demanding release. Three years of imagining the worst - that I'd been nothing but a conquest, a game, a fool who'd fallen for pretty lies. But the way he stands now, shoulders rigid with tension, those gold lines across his skin pulsing erratically... he looks haunted. Broken in ways I recognize too well.

"I survived." His words echo in my head. What happened to him? What could make someone like Mazan - steady, unshakeable Mazan - sound so raw?

I shake my head, forcing the thoughts away. It doesn't matter. I have the boys to protect. They're all that matters now. I can't let him waltz back into my life, can't risk them getting hurt when he inevitably leaves again.

But as I retreat down the walkway, my heart pounds with a different fear - how long can I keep them hidden? How long before those copper-red eyes recognize themselves in two smaller faces?

I stumble back through the winding walkways, my feet carrying me away from him without conscious thought. I know that June will keep them safe, that she and Lamain won’t tell him.

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