Page 16 of Demon Daddy’s Nanny (Demon Daddies #3)

16

EVA

I slip out into the night, Ridwan's cloak wrapped tight around my shoulders. The fabric drowns me, falling past my knees, but I can't bring myself to care. His scent still clings to the material, though at this point, it’s fading.

The courtyard stretches before me, bathed in the light of twin moons. Shadows pool beneath twisted metal benches, their golden surfaces dulled to brass in the darkness. My footsteps echo off the ground as I trace familiar paths between dormant flowerbeds.

Here, away from watching eyes, I let my guard drop. No need to duck into alcoves or time my movements. Just the night air against my skin and the weight of stars overhead. The cloak trails behind me like wings of my own, catching on the cool breeze.

I pause by the central fountain, watching dark water spill over edges carved with scenes of ancient battles. Xaphan warriors dance across the stone, their wings spread in eternal victory. My fingers trace the worn edges, remembering how Ridwan's hands felt that night in the kitchen - strong yet gentle, letting me guide his through simple motions that suddenly felt intimate.

The memory of his wings curling forward haunts me. How they'd created a private world just for us, blocking out everything but the heat of his chest against my back and the way his breath stirred my hair. Then him saying it was a mistake, the sudden distance, and this cloak dropped on my shoulders when I was alone out here.

A part of me wonders if he’ll come out here again.

I’m not sure if I want him to or not - or more like I’m not willing to admit which I want.

I pull the fabric tighter, letting myself imagine for just a moment that it's his arms around me instead. Foolish. Dangerous. But here in the darkness, with only stars as witness, I can admit how much I crave his touch. How each careful avoidance feels like a physical wound.

The night air carries the scent of night-blooming flowers, their purple petals glowing faintly in the moonlight. I breathe deeply, trying to clear my head of bronze skin and golden eyes. Of almost-kisses and unspoken words.

A shadow detaches from the darkness near the fountain, and my heart stops. Ridwan stands motionless, moonlight catching on the sharp angles of his face. His wings shift restlessly, feathers rustling like whispered secrets. Even at rest, power radiates from him - in the rigid set of his shoulders, the predatory stillness of his stance.

I freeze mid-step, trapped between fleeing and staying. His golden eyes lock onto me, and heat floods my cheeks as I realize I'm still wearing his cloak. The fabric suddenly feels like a brand against my skin.

"Eva." My name falls from his lips like a prayer, or maybe a curse. He takes a step forward, then stops, hands clenching at his sides. His wings spread slightly, casting deeper shadows across the courtyard stones.

I wonder how long he’s been there, how long he’s been watching me. Am I foolish to hope that his distance is because he wants me and is holding back? Is he about to take the cloak back and crush the tiny part of me that swears there is more to this tension.

The scar on his cheek catches the silver light, a reminder of battles I'll never understand. Of the gulf between us. But there's something raw in his expression tonight, something that makes my breath catch.

"I should—" The words die in my throat as he moves closer. Each step deliberate, measured, like he's afraid I'll bolt. Maybe I should. Instead, I stand rooted as he towers over me, close enough that I can see the flecks of amber in his eyes.

His wing brushes my arm - accident or intent, I can't tell. The touch sends a thrill down my spine. He reaches out, fingers hovering over the clasp of his cloak at my throat, but doesn't quite make contact.

His gaze burns into mine, molten gold in the darkness. The air between us crackles with unspoken words, with all the careful distances we've maintained. My fingers tighten in the folds of his cloak, seeking anchor against the storm of emotions threatening to sweep me away.

Ridwan takes another step forward, closing the space between us until I have to tilt my head back to hold his stare. Then he stops, something flickering across his face - regret? Restraint? His wings curl forward slightly before he forces them back, the movement sharp with tension.

"You shouldn't be out here alone." His voice comes out rough, like gravel over steel. The words carry weight beyond simple concern, and I bristle at the implication.

"I can take care of myself." The response slips out before I can stop it. Even now, with my heart thundering against my ribs and his presence filling my senses, old defenses rise. I've spent too long proving my worth in a world that sees humanity as weakness.

His jaw tightens, that familiar mask of control slipping for just a moment. "That's not—" He cuts himself off, running a hand through his dark waves. The movement draws my attention to the scar on his cheek, silvered by moonlight. "There are dangers you don't understand."

"Then help me understand." I step closer, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. His wings twitch, feathers rustling with barely contained emotion. "Stop pushing me away and just—" I stop myself before it goes too far.

His hands clench at his sides, and I watch the battle play out across his face. The rigid set of his shoulders speaks of duty and restraint, but there's something wild in his eyes, something that makes my breath catch.

The silence stretches between us, heavy with possibility. With all the things we've left unsaid. His wing brushes my arm again, and this time I know it's deliberate. The touch sends lightning through my veins, making it hard to remember why we keep fighting this pull between us.

I don't move, don't look away from the intensity burning in his golden eyes. "Stop pushing me away." My voice comes out steadier than I feel as I take another step forward, pulse hammering against my ribs. The night air crackles between us, charged like the moments before lightning strikes.

Ridwan's wings shift, casting deeper shadows across the courtyard stones. His jaw clenches, that rigid control I've come to know so well warring with something darker, more primal. The scar on his cheek catches moonlight as his head tilts down toward me, and I fight the urge to trace it with my fingers.

The silence stretches, broken only by the splash of fountain water and the rustle of his feathers. His hands remain fisted at his sides, knuckles white with restraint. Each breath draws his scent deeper into my lungs.

I watch emotions flicker across his face, too fast to name. The careful distance he maintains fractures for just a moment, revealing hunger in the depths of his golden stare. His wings curl forward unconsciously, creating a private world of shadow and moonlight around us.

My heart pounds so hard I'm sure he must hear it. The fabric of his cloak feels electric against my skin, a constant reminder of boundaries crossed and lines blurred. Still, I hold my ground. I'm done running from this, from him, from the pull that draws me closer despite every warning my mind screams.

Ridwan's breath catches as I shift closer. The temperature seems to rise around us, though his magic remains tightly leashed. A muscle jumps in his jaw, and his wings twitch with barely contained emotion. But he doesn't answer, doesn't move - just watches me with that burning intensity that makes my knees weak.

The courtyard fades away until there's nothing but this moment, this space between heartbeats where anything feels possible. Where duty and station and all the careful walls we've built might crumble beneath the weight of what we both refuse to name.

His hand reaches up, fingers trembling as they brush a loose strand of hair from my face. The touch burns like lightning, and my breath catches in my throat. His golden eyes darken, pupils blown wide as they fix on my lips.

Time stretches like honey, each second an eternity of possibility and fear. I lean forward - or maybe he does - and then his lips find mine. The kiss is hesitant, barely there, like he's still warring with himself even as he surrenders. His wings curl tighter around us, blocking out the moonlight until there's nothing but shadow and the heat of his body against mine.

I press closer, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. He tastes like starlight and storm winds, power crackling beneath his skin. A sound rumbles in his chest - half growl, half groan - and his hand slides into my hair, cradling the back of my head.

The careful restraint in his touch makes my heart ache. Even now, with desire burning through his veins hot enough to scorch, he holds back. Treats me like I'm something precious and breakable instead of the woman who's stood toe-to-toe with him for months.

His wings quiver, feathers brushing against my arms in a whisper-soft caress. When I gasp at the sensation, his kiss deepens, becomes something desperate and hungry. But still controlled, still measured, like he's counting each breath between us.

I rise on my tiptoes, pressing myself closer, trying to break through that iron will. His free hand settles on my waist, fingers digging into the fabric of his cloak still wrapped around me. The possessive grip sends heat pooling in my belly, but he keeps the kiss achingly gentle.

The scar on his cheek is smooth beneath my fingertips when I reach up to touch his face. He shudders at the contact, wings drawing even tighter around us until the world narrows to just this - his lips on mine, his hands holding me like I might shatter, and the thundering of my heart against my ribs.