Page 3 of Demon Daddy’s Hidden Son (Demon Daddies #7)

That's not what I meant, and she knows it. But the thought of her out there alone, facing whatever dangers the mountain roads might hold, makes something cold and protective unfurl in my chest. She's the most capable person I know, but she's also the most precious thing in my world.

"I know you're not delicate." I step closer, close enough to see the flecks of gold in her amber eyes. "That's not what this is about."

"Then what is it about?"

The honest question deserves an honest answer, even if it means admitting something I've never said aloud. "It's about the fact that losing this contract would be inconvenient, but losing you would destroy me."

Something shifts in her expression, the steel softening without disappearing entirely. She studies my face for a long moment, reading the truth written there.

"The quarry isn't that dangerous, is it? Just remote."

I want to lie, to manufacture hazards that don't exist just to keep her close. But she's asking for honesty, and she deserves it. "No. Remote and tedious, but not dangerous. The quarry master is reputable, the roads are well-traveled during the day."

She nods slowly. "Then let me help you."

The simple offer carries weight that goes far beyond the practical. This isn't just about solving my deadline problem. It's about trust, about partnership, about the choice to share burdens that we could technically handle alone.

I look at her standing there in the fading light, chin lifted with quiet determination, amber eyes steady on mine. Beautiful and stubborn and absolutely certain of what she's offering. My chest tightens with love and gratitude and something that might be fear.

"We'll discuss it," I finally say, which isn't agreement but isn't refusal either.

She smiles then, the first real smile I've seen from her since I returned. "We will. But first, you need food and rest. When was the last time you ate something that wasn't stale bread and cold tea?"

I try to remember and come up empty. "This morning? Yesterday? Time moves differently when I'm working."

"Of course it does." She takes my hand, tugging me toward the house. "Come on. I made that stew you like, with the herbs from the garden. We can figure out the rest after you've remembered you're mortal."

I let her lead me inside, where the soft glow of magelights creates pools of warmth against the gathering darkness. The familiar scents of home—herbs from the garden, the subtle spices Kaleen favors, the clean smell of well-maintained stone—wrap around me like a blessing.

Later, after dinner and wine and conversation that carefully skirts around the topic of mountain roads and quarries, we find ourselves on the rooftop terrace. The night air carries the promise of autumn, crisp and clean, and the stars spread overhead like scattered diamonds against black silk.

Kaleen stands at the stone railing, looking out over the city lights that twinkle in the distance.

The wind plays with her hair, lifting the loose strands that frame her face.

She's changed into a soft robe that flows around her like water, and the starlight catches on the gold necklace at her throat—the one I commissioned with her name engraved in flowing script.

I move behind her, my hands settling on her waist as I pull her back against my chest. She leans into me with a sigh that sounds like coming home, her head tilting to rest against my shoulder.

"The stars are bright tonight," she murmurs, her voice soft in the darkness.

"Not as bright as you." The words are out before I can stop them, honest and raw in a way that still catches me off-guard sometimes.

She turns in my arms, her hands coming up to rest on my chest. In the starlight, her skin seems to glow with its own inner radiance, and her eyes hold depths that rival the night sky itself.

"Domiel." My name on her lips sounds like a prayer.

I frame her face with my hands, thumbs brushing over the soft curves of her cheekbones. "I love you." The words carry weight tonight, urgency. "More than I've ever loved anything. More than I knew was possible."

"I know." Her smile is soft and sure. "I love you too."

I lean down and kiss her then, pouring everything I can't quite say into the connection between us.

The kiss starts gentle, almost hesitant, but deepens as she responds with equal fervor.

Her hands fist in the fabric of my shirt, pulling me closer, and I'm lost in the taste of her, the warmth of her mouth, the way she fits against me like she was made for this moment.

When we finally break apart, both breathing hard, I rest my forehead against hers. The stars wheel overhead, eternal and distant, but here in this small circle of warmth and love, everything feels immediate and precious.

"Whatever happens with this project," I whisper against her lips, "this is what matters. You and me. This."

She kisses me again, softer this time, full of promise and understanding. "Always," she breathes. "No matter how far apart we might be, this is always home."

The words settle deep in my chest, a comfort against the uncertainty that the days might bring.