Page 5 of Demon Daddy’s Hidden Son (Demon Daddies #7)
DOMIEL
I set her down carefully beside our bed, hands lingering at her waist as if I can somehow anchor her here through touch alone.
The late afternoon light slants through the tall windows, painting amber streaks across the stone floor and catching the warm brown of her hair.
She's looking at me with those knowing amber eyes, reading every flicker of emotion I'm trying to keep controlled.
The truth burns in my chest like hot metal: since the moment I first saw her sorting volatile runestone with steady hands and sharper wit, I've wanted nothing more than to keep her safe.
To build walls around this life we've created, to ensure nothing and no one can threaten what we have.
The thought of her riding mountain roads alone, negotiating with quarry masters I've never met, sleeping in inns where I can't watch over her—it makes something primitive and protective rear up in my chest.
But logic wars with instinct, and logic wins. Barely.
"I hate this," I say quietly, fingers tracing the line of her jaw. "I hate that I can't protect you from this. That I can't solve this problem without putting you at risk."
"It's not a risk." Her hands find the front of my shirt, fingers working at the buttons with practiced ease. "It's a solution. There's a difference."
I catch her hands, stilling them. "Is there?"
The question hangs between us like incense smoke, heavy and complex.
Because we both know the real issue isn't the road to Kaerion or the quarry master's reputation.
It's the fact that for the first time since she chose to stay, our carefully constructed world requires separation.
Requires me to let her walk away and trust that she'll come back.
I put that trust into her hands once when I gave her her own contract. When I told her to make her own choice. And she chose me.
That doesn't mean I never fear she'll regret it.
"Yes," she says simply, and I hear the certainty in her voice that's gotten us through every other impossible situation. "There is."
I release her hands and she resumes unbuttoning my shirt, fingers brushing against my skin with each loosened button. The familiar touch sends warmth spreading through my chest, chasing away some of the cold fear that's been coiled there since this morning.
"Besides," she continues, pushing the fabric off my shoulders, "you're not letting me do anything. I'm choosing to help you because that's what we do. We solve problems together."
The shirt falls to the floor and her hands spread across my chest, palms warm against my skin.
I close my eyes and focus on the sensation, on the way she touches me like I'm something worth treasuring.
When I open them again, she's studying my face with that particular intensity that means she's reading thoughts I haven't spoken aloud.
"You're thinking too much," she murmurs, reaching for the clasps in my hair.
The metal pieces fall away under her fingers, and my hair tumbles loose around my shoulders. She combs through the strands with gentle fingers, working out the tangles left by wind and worry. The simple intimacy of it makes my chest tight.
"Come on." I take her hand, threading our fingers together. "Let's get clean."
I lead her toward the bathing chamber, a space I designed with the same careful attention I give to all my architectural work.
The shower area is carved from a single piece of moonstone, its pale surface shot through with veins of silver that catch and amplify light.
Brass fixtures gleam against the stone, and the floor is inlaid with tiny chips of crystal that warm under bare feet.
She turns in my arms as we reach the shower, hands working at the ties of her dress while I watch.
The fabric slides away from her shoulders like water, pooling at her feet in soft folds.
The sight of her never loses its power to stop my thoughts completely—the gentle curves of her body, the way late sunlight gilds her brown skin, the faint scar near her collarbone that speaks of survival and strength.
My hands settle at her waist, thumbs tracing the familiar territory of her ribs. "Beautiful," I murmur, the word rough with want and something deeper than desire.
She reaches for my belt, fingers steady despite the way her breathing has changed. "Your turn."
The leather falls away under her hands, followed by the rest of my clothes until we're both bare in the golden light.
I pull magical energy from the crystal matrices embedded in the walls, feeling the familiar tingle as power flows through the carved channels.
The water begins to warm, steam curling upward as heated droplets cascade from the specially designed nozzles.
I lift her again, this time skin against skin, and she wraps her legs around my waist with trusting ease.
Her arms loop around my neck as I carry her under the warm spray, water streaming over both of us in heated rivers.
She tips her head back, letting the water run through her dark hair, and the trust in the gesture—the way she gives herself over to my strength completely—makes something fierce and protective surge in my chest.
"I don't want you to go," I admit against the curve of her neck, voice barely audible over the sound of falling water.
"I know." Her fingers trace the scar at my temple, touch gentle as thalivern wings. "But I am going. And I'm coming back. Those are the only two facts that matter."
The water runs between us, washing away the ink stains and dust of the day, but nothing can rinse away the need burning under my skin. The need to mark this moment, to claim something that will last beyond tomorrow morning when she rides away from me.
The water cascades around us as I press her against the smooth moonstone wall, her legs still wrapped around my waist. Her wet hair clings to her shoulders, droplets catching the crystal light embedded in the stone.
The way she looks at me—amber eyes dark with want, lips parted as steam curls between us—makes my control fracture.
"Dom," she breathes, and the sound of my name on her lips undoes me completely.
My mouth finds hers, hungry and demanding.
She responds with equal fervor, her hands tangling in my wet hair as she pulls me closer.
The kiss deepens until we're consuming each other, years of quiet intimacy giving way to something raw and desperate.
I can taste the fear on her tongue—not of me, never of me, but of tomorrow, of separation, of the unknown that waits beyond our sanctuary.
"I need you," I growl against her lips, voice rough with desire and something deeper. "Need to feel you, all of you."
Her response is a soft whimper that makes heat pool low in my belly. I trail my mouth down the column of her throat, tasting water and skin and the essence that's purely her. She arches into me, nails scoring light marks across my shoulders.
"Please," she gasps, the word barely audible over the sound of falling water. "Don't make me wait."
The desperation in her voice mirrors my own. I shift my grip, one hand braced against the wall while the other supports her weight. She's slick and ready for me, and the knowledge that she wants this as much as I do sends fire racing through my veins.
"Look at me," I command softly, waiting until her amber eyes meet mine. "I want to see every expression when I take you."
She nods, breath coming in short pants as I position myself. The first touch makes us both gasp, and I have to close my eyes for a moment to maintain control. When I open them again, she's watching me with an intensity that steals my breath.
Slowly, deliberately, I slide into her welcoming heat.
Her head falls back against the stone, a broken moan escaping her lips as I fill her completely.
The sensation is overwhelming—the tight clasp of her body, the way she trembles in my arms, the absolute trust in her face as she gives herself to me.
"Gods, you feel perfect," I breathe, forehead pressed against hers as we both adjust to the connection. "So perfect for me. Always so perfect."
"Move," she whispers, hips shifting restlessly. "Please, I need?—"
I silence her with another kiss as I begin to move, slow and deep at first. Each thrust pulls soft sounds from her throat that drive me closer to the edge. The water streams around us, creating a curtain that cuts us off from the world beyond this moment.
"That's it," I murmur against her ear, pace gradually increasing. "Take all of me. You're so beautiful like this, falling apart in my arms."
Her responses become more desperate, more needy. She clings to me like I'm her anchor in a storm, and maybe I am. Maybe we both are, holding each other together against the fear of what tomorrow might bring.
"Harder," she gasps, and the plea breaks what's left of my restraint.
I drive into her with more force, the sound of our bodies connecting mixing with her increasingly breathless moans. The moonstone wall is cool against my palm as I brace us, muscles straining with the effort to give her everything she needs while keeping her safe in my arms.
"You're mine," I growl, the words torn from somewhere deep in my chest. "No matter where you go, no matter how far, you're mine."
"Yes," she sobs, voice breaking on the word. "Yours. Always yours."
The affirmation pushes me closer to the precipice. I can feel her body tightening around me, see the telltale flush spreading across her chest. She's close, so close, and I need to bring her over the edge with me.
"Come for me," I command, voice rough with desperate need. "Let me feel you fall apart."
I lean forward, kissing her neck before biting gently as I thrust deeper into her. Her body tightens as she moans, and I grind my hips against hers with each drive to give her the friction she needs.
"Yes," she moans. "Dom, just like that."
Her hips roll to meet mine, my movements turning frantic, and just as she clamps down around me, screaming out my name, I come, filling her. I press Kaleen tighter against the wall, shallowly thrusting a few more times into her as her body shudders through her orgasm.
Once I have my bearings again, I lift my head and gently kiss her lips. "I love you," I tell her, though the words never feel like enough.
This woman is the other half of my soul and while I never want to push her, to ask for more than she is willing to give, I want to tie her life to mine. I want her to be with me in life and death. I'm not sure she ever comprehends how much I love her, need her, want her.
But then she cups my face, her eyes meeting mine with so much emotion. "I love you. I will until the sun fails to rise."
It's what she always says to me, like she knows when I need to hear it most. And right now, I really need it.
Because, regardless of logic, I can't stand the idea of being away from her.
But it's just three days…right?