Page 33 of Daddy’s Muse (Bloody Desires #12)

I let my palm rest over his back, just above where his heart beat. The steady rhythm was enough to quiet the storm still raging in my head from earlier.

My thumb brushed lazy circles against his back as I whispered into the dark, words only for him, though he was too deep in sleep to hear.

“You’ll never be alone again, kanin. Not while I breathe, not while I exist. I’ll burn the entire world before I ever let it touch you.”

I swallowed hard, pulling him closer still, pressing kiss after kiss to his temple.

He whimpered faintly in his sleep, but it wasn’t the sharp, broken sound from before. This one was softer, more content.

I closed my eyes and let myself breathe with him.

He had me chained just as surely as I had him. And I wouldn’t break free—didn’t want to.

Without him, there was nothing left of me worth saving.

* * *

Colby’s breath came soft and wispy, little puffs of air that tickled against my skin, and I lay there still as stone, terrified to break the spell.

I’d watched him slip under last night, watched his lashes flutter closed as though the world had finally grown too heavy for him to carry. And gods, it had felt like victory and defeat all at once—the relief of holding him safe, and the ache of knowing I had been the one to cause him pain.

My hand lingered in his pretty red hair. His body was curled tight into me, knees tucked up, one fist knotted in the fabric of my shirt. He clung to me in his sleep, even after yesterday. That should’ve been enough to silence the gnawing in my chest, but it wasn’t.

He shifted slightly, a sleepy murmur caught in his throat, and I bent my head to kiss the top of his hair. “Shh, sweetheart,” I whispered, even though he hadn’t stirred awake. “Pappa’s here.”

I couldn’t help it—I memorized him like this. The way the faint morning glow softened his features, the small crease still etched between his brows, even in rest. He carried his pain with him into his dreams, and it made me want to break the whole world open, just to lay peace at his feet.

But instead I lay there, unmoving, breathing with him, heart counting each inhale and exhale like proof he was still mine.

Eventually, he blinked awake slowly, the fog of sleep still heavy over him. His gaze landed on me, and he gave me something so sweet—a faint, soft smile, like waking to me was safety.

“Morning, baby,” I murmured, stroking his cheek with my knuckles. “How’re you feeling?”

He swallowed, his voice hoarse when he whispered, “Tired.” His body pressed closer as though burrowing into me was the answer.

“Yeah? That’s alright. Why don’t we have a lazy day in bed, hm?” I kissed the tip of his nose.

He made a small sound, something caught between a sigh and a whimper, and I felt it tug straight at my chest. His hand fisted tighter in my shirt, his eyes slipping shut again as if the effort of waking had been too much.

And maybe that was fine; maybe he didn’t need to face the day yet. I could hold him as long as he needed.

I tightened my arms around him, feeling the bitter tang of his residual fear.

I wanted to whisper promises until my throat gave out.

I wanted to drown him in reassurances until no part of him doubted me again.

But he was so fragile this morning, so worn thin, that I forced myself into silence. So, I simply held him.

Let him rest, and try to heal. I could carry the weight of all his fears for him.

After another hour, his breathing changed. It was subtle, but it told me before his eyes even opened that he was surfacing again.

“Hi,” he murmured, voice rough and thin.

I cupped his jaw, thumb grazing his cheek. “Hi, yourself. Are you hungry yet?”

He hummed, using a fingertip to trace invisible patterns on my chest. “Yeah, but I don’t wanna move.”

I propped myself on one elbow, studying him in silence.

“You don’t have to get out of bed,” I said. “I’ll go make something for you.”

“What… what time is it?”

“Late enough I should’ve had you fed by now.” I let a grin soften the words, trying to ease him into our comfortable familiarity. “What would you like, lille prinsen?”

“A yogurt parfait?”

I huffed out a laugh as I began getting up. “My baby must be feeling fancy today. I should have everything for that, though. Let me go see what I can do.”

I bent down and kissed him, slow and unhurried, tasting the sleep on his lips. He didn’t pull away. He leaned into it, even, but when I pulled back his eyes were shinier than I wanted them to be.

I stroked his cheek again. “What’s going on in that head of yours, hm?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head quickly, too quickly. “I’m okay,” he sighed.

I didn’t press, not yet—he needed some food in his belly first. I leaned forward and smoothed a strand of hair from his forehead. “Alright, baby. I’ll be back in a few minutes. You just rest here.”

He nodded, quiet.

As I left the room, I swore to myself that whatever demons had followed him out of last night, I’d smother them before they ever touched him again.

The kitchen greeted me with the bright natural light flowing in from the large windows. A parfait seemed doable. Opening the fridge, I found some vanilla yogurt, strawberries, and blueberries. A quick rummage around the cabinets produced granola, honey, and a bowl.

I filled a light blue sippy cup up with fresh orange juice and fixed myself a cup of coffee. Lastly, I found some lettuce and baby carrots.

I balanced the tray carefully, making sure nothing spilled as I walked from the kitchen to our bedroom. One detour into the den later, and I’d added a rabbit to the tray, hoping like hell that she could stay still for the trip so that Colby’s breakfast didn’t end up splattered across the floor.

When I walked through the door to our room, Colby’s eyes lifted to me, cautious but soft, and some of the knots in my shoulders began to ease.

“Breakfast,” I announced gently, setting the tray on his lap before settling down on the edge of the bed beside him.

He smiled as he saw the contents of the tray. “Oh no, is Butter part of the meal?” he joked, a soft laugh tinkling out of him.

“Need some protein,” I ribbed back, ruffling his bedhead.

He gave me another smile as he lifted the spoon and began to eat. The silence stretched between us until he set it down again, shoulders sinking.

“Bodin,” he said finally, his voice barely carrying. “I need some time.”

I froze, heart seizing in my chest. “Time…?”

He nodded, gaze focused on Butter sitting beside us. “To process everything. I… I can’t pretend like it’s not in my head. But I also…” He swallowed hard, brows lowering. “I don’t want to lose you. You’re all I have. You’re who I want. I just… I don’t know how to carry both at the same time yet.”

“Colby… oh, sweetheart… I’ll do anything.

Anything you need. You want time? I’ll give you time.

You want space? I’ll stay an arm’s length if that’s what makes you feel safe.

Just don’t—” My voice caught, the words breaking before I forced them out.

“Don’t shut me out. Don’t take yourself away from me. Please , my love.”

His gaze finally lifted to meet mine, those bright ocean eyes wet at the corners. “I don’t know the way forward, Pappa. I don’t… I’m scared—scared of myself, mostly.”

That didn’t seem right. I questioned, “Of yourself? Why? You’ve done nothing wrong. I’m the one you should be scared of.”

His fingers curled around my bicep like he was afraid I might slip away at any moment. “Because something’s wrong with me,” he hiccuped, a few tears escaping and rolling down his freckled skin.

“What are you talking about, sweetheart? Nothing’s wrong with you. That’s all me,” I tried to assure him. “You’re perfect.”

“No, Pappa,” he cried.

I moved his breakfast onto the nightstand and pulled him into my lap. “Please talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it. Please.”

Colby shook his head, rubbing his nose and wet face against my pecs.

“You’re a murderer. You’ve killed so many people.

Any normal person would have run straight out of the house when they heard what you told me yesterday.

They would’ve called the cops. And—and that would be the right thing to do!

You stole the futures of twelve people, Bodin— twelve .

You took them away from their loved ones. ”

“Baby, that—”

“No, please. I need to finish—I need to say this,” he stated, wiping at his tears.

I shut my mouth and nodded for him to go on.

“You killed people, and I-I’m still here.

I’m here… My chest feels like it’s going to rip open any second—it hurts so bad.

But I’m here . I spent the night in your arms, and I’m eating a damn parfait you made.

That’s what’s wrong. Because you’re a serial killer, and I’m still calling you Pappa.

I shouldn’t want you, or any of this! And it’s killing me…

How—how can I…” he stammered, voice trailing off.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” I whispered brokenly into his mop of curls. “But thank you… Thank you for giving me a chance. We’ll find a way forward, baby, I promise. We’ll take it step by step. I’ll change however I have to. Just let me keep you. Please let me keep you.”