Page 41 of Demon Daddy's Secret Twins

LOXLEY

Ipace across my treehouse living room, bare feet silent on the wooden floors. The ocean breeze filters through the open windows, carrying salt and night-blooming flowers, but even the familiar scents can't calm my racing thoughts.

My hands shake as I reach the far wall, spin, and track back. The twins sleep peacefully in their room down the hall, their soft breaths a reminder of everything I've kept hidden. Everything I should have said.

Copper-gold eyes flash in my memory - Mazan's expression when he first saw them. The shock, the hurt, the anger that darkened his features before he stormed out. My chest tightens.

I halt at the window, press my forehead against the smooth wood frame. Below, moonlight paints silver paths through the jungle canopy. The same paths I walked countless times while pregnant, terrified and alone, wondering if I'd made the right choice in keeping silent.

But what was I supposed to think? One night of passion, then nothing. No goodbye, no explanation. Just... gone. Like everyone else who saw me as something to use and discard.

My fingers trace the old scar along my ribs. I knew I couldn’t trust anyone. And these weren't just my scars at stake anymore. These were my sons.

Kaelar, so much like his father already - that quiet intensity when he thinks no one's watching. Sorien, with those mismatched eyes that see too much, who somehow always knows when I need him close.

I slide down the wall, draw my knees to my chest. I should have told him last night, when he finally explained about the xaphan, about the years of captivity. When everything made sense. When I saw the truth in his eyes, felt it in every touch, every kiss.

But fear paralyzed me. Fear of his reaction. Fear of losing them. Fear of trusting again, only to watch it all crumble.

And now? Now I might lose him anyway.

The first rays of dawn filter through the leaves, casting dappled shadows across my sleeping sons. I pause in the doorway, memorizing their peaceful faces. Kaelar sprawls across his bed, one small horn caught in the sheets, while Sorien curls into a tight ball, dark hair falling over his mismatched eyes.

"Time to wake up, little ones." I cross to the windows, pulling back the woven curtains.

Kaelar bolts upright, instantly alert. "Morning, Mama!" He bounces off the bed, already reaching for his clothes.

Sorien blinks slowly, watching his brother's whirlwind of activity before carefully sliding from his own bed. He pads over to me, arms raised. I scoop him up, breathing in his warm, sleepy scent.

"Can I wear blue?" Kaelar holds up his favorite tunic, already half-dressed.

"Of course." I help Sorien with his own clothes, smiling as he methodically buttons each closure.

In the kitchen, I slice fresh fruit while the boys settle at our small table. Kaelar swings his legs, nearly vibrating with energy.

"Mama?" He stuffs a piece of mango in his mouth. "You see the man at the beach, with the wings?"

My hands still on the knife. "Mazan?"

"Yeah! He had horns - like me and Sor!"

Sorien looks up from carefully arranging his fruit. "And his wings, like Uncle Lai's."

My heart skips. I set down the knife, turning to face them. He doesn’t want to talk to me, but he clearly wants to see them. And I don’t blame him. "Would you like to go see him today?"

"Yes!" Kaelar practically leaps from his chair. "We climb trees with him?"

Sorien's different-colored eyes study my face. "You want us to?"

I reach across the table, squeezing his small hand. "I do. Very much."

"Then yes." He smiles, soft and sweet, while Kaelar races to get his shoes.

I lead the boys down the winding path from our treehouse, my stomach in knots. Kaelar bounds ahead, pausing at each turn to wave us forward, while Sorien's small hand stays firmly clasped in mine. The morning sun filters through the canopy, painting everything in dappled gold.

The path opens to white sand, and my heart thunders against my ribs. Mazan's temporary quarters sit nestled among the palms—a simple but elegant structure that somehow manages to look both welcoming and imposing.

"Careful," I call as Kaelar races across the beach, his bare feet kicking up sand. His small horns catch the sunlight, so like his father's it makes my chest ache.

---