Page 51 of The Demon's Little Girl
Avenor moves with careful efficiency, his expression gentle as he approaches. "Come here, little one," he murmurs to Nalla, using the nickname he's given her. "Let's go find you something to eat while your mama sorts things out."
Nalla goes easily enough, still drowsy from her crying. She reaches for Avenor with those tiny hands, babbling something that might be his name. He settles her against his shoulder with practiced ease, shooting us both a look that promises privacy and uninterrupted time.
The door clicks shut behind them, leaving us alone in the dim storage room surrounded by barrels of grain and hanging herbs. The silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken truths and years of careful distance.
Rovak moves closer on his knees, reaching out slowly like he's approaching a wounded animal. When I don't flinch away, his large hands cup my face with devastating gentleness. His thumbs brush away the tears still sliding down my cheeks.
"I'm so sorry, sweetheart." The endearment breaks something loose in my chest. "I failed you. I should have protected you better, should have seen what kind of creature he was and never left you alone with him. This is my fault."
"No." The word tears from my throat, raw and desperate. "No, it's not your fault. It's not—" My voice breaks as the dam I've built around this secret finally crumbles completely.
"Is that why you left?" His voice is so soft, so careful. "Because of what he did to you?"
That's when I break.
Two years of buried pain and shame come pouring out in a rush of words I can't control. "He cornered me while you were gone. I tried to stay out of his way, I tried to be invisible, but he saw me and—" A sob cuts off the words. "Afterward, he told me you'd never want me once you found out. That your honor wouldn't let you keep something ruined. He said you'd throw me out the moment you learned what happened."
Rovak's face goes murderous again, but he doesn't interrupt. Just holds my face and lets me purge the poison that's been eating me alive.
"I believed him. I was so ashamed, so broken, and when you came home I couldn't even look at you without wanting to disappear. I didn't know I was pregnant when I ran—didn't find out until months later. By then I was already hiding, already convinced I could never come home."
My hands clutch at his bloodstained shirt, desperate for something solid to anchor me. "I was so embarrassed. So ashamed. I couldn't bear the thought of you looking at me and seeing what he'd done, seeing how I'd been... used. Ruined."
Now that the words have started, they won't stop. They pour out like blood from a opened wound, carrying away the infection that's been poisoning me from the inside.
"And when I came back, I wanted to tell you the truth, but I was terrified you'd send me away again. That you'd look at Nalla and see him instead of—" Another sob. "I pulled away from you because I was carrying this secret like a stone in my chest. Because I wanted you so badly and thought I could never have you. Not after what happened."
Rovak's eyes are wet now, tears cutting silver tracks through the blood spatters on his face. "Liora?—"
"I want you," I whisper, the admission ripped from somewhere deep and desperate. "I've wanted you for years, even before he—even before everything went wrong. I love you. I've loved you for so long it feels like breathing."
That breaks him completely. A sound escapes his throat that's part growl, part sob, and then his mouth is on mine with desperate hunger. His hands tangle in my hair as he kisses me like I'm salvation itself, like I'm the answer to prayers he never dared speak aloud.
When we break apart, both breathing hard, he rests his forehead against mine. "I've wanted you since that first time you came to my study with tea and a smile and told me to stop working so hard. Like you were the only one that saw meandcared. For years, I've watched you and wanted you and held myself back because I never wanted you to feel trapped or obligated. Like you had to say yes to me because of who I am."
His words crack something open in my chest, letting in light I haven't felt in so long. "You... you wanted me? Before everything?"
"Before, during, after. Always." His voice is fierce with conviction. "I've been in love with you for so fucking long, Liora. You make me want to be better than I am. Make me want to build something worth protecting instead of just surviving."
I'm crying again, but these tears taste like relief instead of salt and shame. "I thought you could never want me. Not after what he did."
"Never think that." His hands frame my face again, forcing me to meet his gaze. "What he did to you doesn't change how I feel. Doesn't make you less precious or less worthy of love. It makes me want to burn the world down for not protecting you better, but it doesn't change the fact that you're everything to me."
His thumbs trace the curve of my cheekbones with reverent gentleness. "You and Nalla—you're my favorite girls. My reason for every breath I take. I would die before I let anyone hurt you again, and I will never, ever see you as anything less than perfect."
The words wrap around me like armor, like protection against every cruel voice that's whispered I was broken or used or worthless. In his eyes, I see the truth he's offering—not pity or obligation, but genuine love. The kind that sees all your scars and finds you beautiful anyway.
27
ROVAK
Two years of wanting her, of holding myself back out of respect and fear, crumbles to dust the moment she whispers that she loves me. My hands are still bloody from killing Xharn, still shaking with leftover rage, but when Liora looks at me like I'm her salvation instead of her destruction, nothing else matters.
"Come with me." The words escape as a growl. "Let me take you to my rooms. Let me show you how much I want you."
Her amber eyes go wide, pupils dilating as heat flares between us. "Yes."
That single word breaks the last of my restraint. I slide my arms beneath her, lifting her small frame against my chest like she weighs nothing. Her legs wrap around my waist instinctively, her arms circling my neck as she presses her face into the curve of my throat.
