Page 27 of Demon Daddy’s Hidden Daughter (Demon Daddies #8)

LENNY

T he moment I hear footsteps on the gravel path, I'm already moving. My bare feet slap against the stone steps as I rush outside, my heart hammering so hard I can taste copper in my mouth. The sight that greets me nearly brings me to my knees.

Rhyen's massive form moves toward the house like something out of a dream, his wings folded protectively around whatever he carries.

But I can see a small arm draped over his shoulder, black curls spilling against his neck, and the relief that crashes through me is so violent I have to grip the stone railing to stay upright.

"Ava." Her name tears from my throat, raw and desperate.

Rhyen's celestial eyes find mine across the distance, and something in his expression makes my chest tighten. Not just relief, but something deeper, more profound. Something that looks dangerously close to the fierce protectiveness I've only ever felt for my daughter.

"She's safe," he calls softly, his voice carrying that gravelly quality it gets when he's been holding back emotion. "She's sleeping."

But I can't wait for him to climb the steps. I fly down them, my feet barely touching stone as I close the distance between us. When I reach them, my hands hover over Ava's small form, afraid to touch her, afraid she might disappear if I blink.

"Let me see her." The words come out broken, pleading.

Rhyen shifts slightly, angling his body so I can see her face.

She looks so peaceful, so utterly trusting in his arms, that something inside me just..

. breaks. All the terror I've been holding at bay, all the memories of every nightmare I've lived through, all the desperate love and bone-deep fear that comes with protecting someone more precious than your own life—it all crashes over me at once.

A sob tears from my chest before I can stop it.

My legs give out, and I sink onto the steps, my whole body shaking as the adrenaline finally leaves my system.

She's safe. She's home. She's alive and whole and sleeping peacefully in the arms of a man who moved heaven and earth to bring her back to me.

"Hey." Rhyen's voice is impossibly gentle as he settles beside me, careful not to wake Ava. His free hand finds my shoulder, warm and steadying. "She's okay, Lenny. She's perfect."

"I thought—" I can't finish the sentence. Can't voice the horror that's been eating me alive for hours. "I thought I'd lost her."

"Never." The word comes out fierce, final. "I will never let anything happen to her. Or to you."

I look up at him then, really look, and what I see in his face makes my breath catch. This isn't just kindness, just duty. This is something raw and claiming and utterly devoted. He's looking at Ava like she's his own child, like he'd burn the world down before he'd let harm come to her.

"Let's go in," he murmurs, heading up the steps, and I follow him. I desperately need my baby girl in my arms.

We settle onto the large cushioned sofa, and carefully, so carefully, Rhyen transfers Ava into my lap.

She mumbles something unintelligible but doesn't wake, just burrows into my embrace with the boneless trust of a sleeping child.

I wrap my arms around her, pressing my face to her curls, breathing her in.

"There were so many places he could have taken her," I whisper against her hair. "So many places I might never have found her."

"But I did find her." Rhyen's hand settles on my back, a warm weight that anchors me to the present. "And she was exactly where she should be—hiding, being smart, waiting for rescue like we taught her."

"We taught her." The words taste strange on my tongue. When did it become 'we'? When did this brilliant, powerful man become so integral to our lives that I can't imagine existing without him?

Ava stirs, her violet eyes fluttering open. For a moment she looks confused, then she sees me and her face breaks into a radiant smile.

"Mama." Her small hands reach for my face, patting my cheeks as if to make sure I'm real. "You're here."

"I'm here, baby." I kiss her forehead, her nose, her soft cheeks. "I'm always here."

She twists in my lap to look at Rhyen, who's still sitting close enough that his warmth radiates against my side. "Daddy saved me."

The word hits me like a physical blow. Not in a bad way—in a way that settles something deep in my chest that I didn't even realize was unsettled. She's claiming him, just as surely as he's claimed her.

"He did," I agree softly. "He brought you home."

He ruffles her curls. "Ready for breakfast?"

Her eyes light up. "Honey cakes?"

Rhyen chuckles. "I think we have some."

And despite the tension I still sense in Rhyen, that I still feel myself, he sheds it for our little girl. She's always the man she needs him to be.

The rest of the day passes in a blur of desperate tenderness. We don't talk about what happened, don't dissect the horror or plan for the future. Instead, we exist in this precious bubble of safety and togetherness.

Ava refuses to leave our sides, and neither Rhyen nor I have any desire to let her.

We move through the house as a unit—to the kitchen where Lira fusses over all of us and insists on making Ava's favorite honey cakes, to the garden where we spread blankets and share an impromptu picnic in the afternoon and I watch them play.

When Ava suggests building a fort in the sitting room, Rhyen doesn't hesitate.

He conjures cushions and blankets with casual magic, constructing an elaborate fortress complete with multiple rooms and secret passages.

Ava squeals with delight, crawling through tunnels and proclaiming herself the queen of her castle.

"You're the dragon," she informs Rhyen solemnly. "But a good dragon. One that protects the princess."

"And what's your mama?" he asks, settling cross-legged beside our fortress.

Ava considers this with the gravity of someone making a life-altering decision. "Mama's the princess. The brave one who saves people."

My throat tightens at the simple description. In Ava's eyes, I'm not a broken thing, not damaged goods, not a victim. I'm brave. I'm someone who saves people.

"And we all live in the castle together?" Rhyen asks.

"Forever and always," Ava declares with the certainty only children possess.

When exhaustion finally claims her, we carry her upstairs together.

Rhyen lifts her from the fort while I gather the little wooden thalivern that he bought her at the market weeks ago, and we climb the stairs in perfect synchronization.

In her room, we move around each other like we've done this a thousand times before—Rhyen settling her into bed while I fetch her nightgown, me tucking her in while he dims the enchanted lights.

"Story," Ava mumbles, already half-asleep.

"Which one?" I ask, smoothing her curls back from her forehead.

"About the family that finds each other."

I freeze. We don't have a story about that. But Rhyen settles into the chair beside her bed without missing a beat.

"Once upon a time," he begins, his deep voice soft and hypnotic, "there was a brave princess and her little princess daughter who traveled all across the kingdom looking for the best castle to call home."

Ava's eyes drift closed as he weaves a tale of wandering and searching, of a kind dragon who opened his castle to them, of how they discovered that sometimes family isn't about blood—it's about choice, about love, about the people who would move mountains to keep you safe.

"And they lived happily ever after?" Ava whispers.

"They're still living it," Rhyen says quietly. "Every day."

When she's finally asleep, we stand there for a long moment, watching her chest rise and fall. The soft glow of the enchanted nightlight plays across her peaceful features, and I'm struck again by how young she is, how much trust she places in us.

"She called you Daddy," I say again, because I need to understand this shift, this claiming that's happened between them.

"She did." Rhyen's hand finds mine in the darkness. "And I realized I would die before I let anything happen to her."

"That's what being a parent feels like," I whisper. "Like your heart is walking around outside your body, completely vulnerable."

His fingers tighten around mine. "I never thought I'd want this. A family. But looking at her, at you..." He trails off, shaking his head. "You've changed everything in my life, Lenny. Both of you have."

We slip from the room together, but before he can lead me to his room, I stop Rhyen. In the hallway, I turn to face him fully, taking in the exhaustion around his eyes, the tension still coiled in his massive shoulders.

"Thank you," I breathe. "For bringing her home. For being what we needed."

There's so much more I want to say, but I don't know how. I don't know what it's like to care for someone, to express that.

"Lenny." My name sounds different in his mouth now, rougher, more possessive. "I need you to understand something."

I wait, my heart stuttering in my chest.

"I'm not letting you run again," he says quietly. "Not from this. Not from me. What happened today proved something I should have realized already—you're mine. Both of you. And I protect what's mine."

The words should terrify me. Should send me spiraling back into the familiar patterns of fear and flight. Instead, they settle into my chest like a key finding its lock.

"I don't want to run," I admit. "For the first time in my life, I want to stay."

The words hang between us in the dimly lit hallway, heavy with promise and possibility. Rhyen's celestial eyes search my face, and I can see the exact moment something fundamental shifts in his expression—when careful restraint gives way to raw need.

"Say it again," he breathes, his free hand coming up to cup my face.

"I want to stay." The words come easier this time, more certain. "With you. Here. Home."