Page 5 of Demon Daddy's Hidden Son
"Domiel." I step into his path, close enough that he has to stop moving or collide with me. "Sit. Five minutes won't destroy your deadline."
For a moment, I think he'll argue. His jaw works like he's chewing words too sharp to speak aloud. Then the fight goes out of him all at once, shoulders sagging as he allows me to guide him to the low couch near the window.
He sinks into the cushions with a sound that's part sigh, part groan. I settle beside him, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his skin, and begin working the knots from his shoulders with practiced fingers. He melts under my touch, head fallingforward to give me better access to the tension gathered at the base of his neck.
"We've lost a day," I say quietly, kneading at a particularly stubborn knot. "Tomorrow will be two. How much time do we have before this becomes impossible instead of just difficult?"
His muscles tense again under my hands. "We?"
"Don't." I press harder, earning a sharp intake of breath. "Don't pretend this is just your problem when we both know I'm the only viable solution."
"I looked into other options today." His voice carries the weight of defeat. "Asked every courier service in the city, contacted the transport guilds. Nobody can guarantee a round trip to Kaerion and back in less than five days. Most are quoting seven to ten. And that was the few that could go—most untrustworthy since the others are already bought."
I continue working at his shoulders, giving him space to arrive at the conclusion we both know is inevitable. The silence stretches between us, filled only by the distant sounds of the city and his gradually steadying breathing.
"There's another option." The words come reluctantly, like he's pulling them from somewhere deep and painful. "I could request an extension on the Vaelthorne contract. Explain the supply complications, negotiate new terms."
My hands still on his shoulders. "But?"
"But Lady Vaelthorne specifically chose my services because I don't miss deadlines. It's the foundation of my reputation in Soimur." He sits up slightly, turning to meet my eyes. "If I request an extension on a project this significant, word will spread. Other families will start questioning my reliability."
And then I remember something he seems to have forgotten. "Not only that, but don't you have your renewal meeting with the city?"
His expression grows grimmer. "Day after tomorrow. My ethereal architecture license comes up for review every three years. And they examine not just my technical competency, but my professional standing. Client satisfaction surveys, completion records, testimonials from the families I've served."
I understand now why this deadline has him wound tighter than a crossbow string. It's not just about one contract, no matter how lucrative. It's about everything he's built here, the reputation that allows him to choose his projects and command the fees that keep this estate running. The work that gives him purpose and identity beyond his birth and breeding.
"The alternative is going yourself?" I ask, though I already know the answer.
"I could leave immediately after the renewal meeting. Push the zarryn hard, make the round trip in four days if the weather holds." He rubs his palms against his knees, a nervous gesture that tells me exactly how much he dislikes this plan. "It would still be cutting it close, but possible."
"Except you'd be exhausted, working with materials you've never personally selected, and binding the final matrix with barely any margin for error." I shift to face him fully, studying the sharp planes of his face in the slanted afternoon light. "That's not elegant either. That's desperate."
He flinches slightly at the word, but doesn't argue. Because we both know I'm right. The Domiel I know, the one who builds homes that stand for centuries and wards that never fail, doesn't work desperate. He works with precision and patience and absolute confidence in every component.
"Domiel, let me go for you." I hate seeing him this overworked.
"Kaleen—"
"I can identify quality moonshard better than most of your regular couriers. You've seen me sort crystal matrices, handlevolatile runestone. I know what to look for, how to test for structural flaws and resonance inconsistencies."
I watch him process this, see the war between logic and protection playing across his features. His hands clench and unclench against his knees, ink stains dark against his bronze skin.
"Two days there. Buy the lattice. And I'll turn around and come right back." I keep my voice steady, practical. "I could leave at first light tomorrow and return by evening on the third day at that rate. You'd have your binding lattice with a day to spare before you desperately need it."
"The roads?—"
"Are well-traveled during daylight hours, especially during construction season. I'm not planning to camp in the wilderness or take shortcuts through bandit territory." I lean closer, close enough to see the gold flecks scattered through his silver-blue eyes. "This isn't a dangerous rescue mission, Domiel. It's a business trip."
He's quiet for a long moment, staring past my shoulder at something I can't see. When he looks at me again, there's a vulnerability in his expression that makes my chest tight.
"I've never been apart from you for three days," he admits quietly. "Not since you chose to stay."
The words hit deeper than I expected. Because he's right. In all the months since he bought my contract and I decided to remain, we've built a life that rarely requires separation. His work keeps him in the city, my world has become centered around this estate and him. The longest we've been apart is a single night when he was required to attend a formal dinner I couldn't accompany him to.
"I'll miss you too." I reach for his hands, threading my fingers through his despite the ink stains. "But I'll come back. Thisisn't me leaving, it's me helping you solve a problem so we can continue building what we have here."
His thumb traces over my knuckles, following the line of the delicate gold bracelet that covers old scars. "If something happened to you..."
