Page 18 of Demon Daddy’s Nanny (Demon Daddies #3)

18

EVA

T he kitchen knife slams into the cutting board, splitting the poor vegetable in two. Three days. Three damn days since Ridwan's lips crashed into mine in the courtyard, since his wings curled around us like a shield from the world, since his touch set my skin ablaze. And then - nothing.

I hack at another vegetable, not even caring what I'm cutting anymore. My movements are jerky, unpracticed, nothing like my usual precise methods. The other kitchen staff give me a wide berth, probably sensing the storm brewing beneath my skin.

"Everything alright, Eva?" Mari, one of the cooks, ventures.

"Perfect." The word comes out sharp enough to cut.

The memory burns fresh in my mind: the way Ridwan's golden eyes had darkened with desire, how his fingers had tangled in my hair, the low growl that rumbled through his chest. For one blissful moment, the walls he built around himself had crumbled. Then, like smoke through fingers, he vanished.

Now he skulks through the halls like a shadow, his massive wings tucked tight against his back. If I enter a room, he finds an excuse to leave. If I try to catch his eye, he looks away. The mighty xaphan lord, running from a mere human.

My chest aches, but I refuse to let the tears fall. I've spent too many years being invisible, being less than, to let this break me. But gods, I thought - hoped - he was different. That maybe, just maybe, the quiet moments we shared meant something. The way he'd seek me out in the evenings to discuss Annalise's progress. How his fingers would brush mine when passing documents. The rare smiles that seemed reserved just for me.

I drive the knife into another innocent vegetable. The sound echoes through the kitchen, and I realize my hands are shaking. Damn him. Damn me for being fool enough to believe a xaphan lord could see past my humanity. That he could want?—

The knife clatters to the counter. I can't do this. Can't keep pretending I'm fine while he treats me like I'm nothing more than a shadow to avoid.

"I need some air," I mutter, not waiting for a response before fleeing the kitchen.

I storm through the manor's halls, my footsteps echoing against floors. The guards posted at intervals tense as I pass, probably sensing the fury radiating off me in waves. Good. Let them feel it. Let everyone feel it.

My hand connects with the study door before my brain catches up to my actions. The heavy wood swings open with a bang that makes the nearest guard jump.

Ridwan sits at his desk, golden wings folded tight against his broad back. Papers scatter across the dark wood surface, illuminated by crystal lamps that cast dancing shadows across his bronze skin. He doesn't look up.

"Are you really going to pretend that didn't happen?" The words burst from my chest like caged birds finally breaking free. My arms cross over my chest, fingers digging into my biceps to keep from shaking.

His quill pauses mid-stroke. A drop of ink bleeds onto the parchment below, spreading like a stain. Still, he won't meet my eyes.

"Eva—" His deep voice carries a warning.

"Don't 'Eva' me." Heat floods my cheeks. "Three days. Three days of you running away every time I enter a room. Of you acting like I'm some kind of ghost. Like what happened in the courtyard meant nothing."

His golden eyes finally meet mine, and my breath catches. Even with his face carefully blank, he's beautiful in a way that makes my chest ache. Shadows from the crystal lamps dance across his sharp cheekbones, highlighting the scar that cuts across his left cheek. A warrior's mark on a man who now hides behind paperwork and cold walls.

"It shouldn't have happened."

The words slice through me, but I plant my feet. I've spent too many years being dismissed, being told what I deserve and don't deserve. His wings shift, the golden feathers catching the light like burnished metal.

Something flickers in his expression - desire? Regret? - before the mask slips back into place. His fingers clench around the quill until I fear it might snap. Ink drips steadily onto the forgotten papers, spreading like spilled blood.

The air between us crackles with tension. Heat pools in my belly as I remember how those strong hands felt tangled in my hair, how his body pressed against mine, solid and warm. How for one perfect moment, he'd looked at me like I was everything he'd ever wanted.

My heart pounds against my ribs. His wings twitch, and I swear I see them start to unfurl before he forces them back. The muscles in his jaw work as he grinds his teeth. Everything about his posture screams control, restraint, denial.

But his eyes... his eyes tell a different story. They track my every movement with an intensity that makes my skin tingle. Like a predator watching its prey. Like a man starving for something he won't let himself have.

The silence stretches between us, thick enough to choke on. Neither of us moves. Neither of us speaks. We're caught in this moment, this battle of wills, where one wrong word could shatter everything.

I take a step forward, then another, my heart thundering against my ribs. "Then why did you kiss me?"

The crystal lamps cast flickering shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw, the intensity in his golden eyes. His wings twitch, the feathers rustling with a sound like whispered secrets.

"Eva." My name comes out rough, almost a growl. His fingers clench tighter around the quill until it finally snaps, sending ink spattering across the forgotten papers.

I press my advantage, moving closer until I'm just out of reach. Close enough to catch the scent of him makes heat pool in my belly. "If it meant nothing, why can't you look at me without your wings trembling? Why do your hands shake when I'm near?"

His chest rises and falls with quick, sharp breaths. The mask of indifference cracks, revealing something wild and hungry beneath. Something that matches the fire burning in my veins.

"You don't understand what you're asking for." He pushes back from the desk, standing to his full height. His wings spread slightly, casting me in their shadow. "What this would mean."

"Then explain it to me." I step closer, close enough to touch. But I don't. I won't give him that escape. "Stop hiding behind duty and protocol and whatever other excuses you've built up. For once, just tell me the truth."

The air between us crackles with tension, with possibility. With three days of wanting and denial and frustration. His wings curl forward, not quite touching me, but surrounding me in a cage of golden feathers. Still, he doesn't move. Doesn't reach for me. Just watches with those burning eyes as if memorizing every detail of my face.

"The truth?" His voice drops lower, rougher. "The truth is I can’t want you. ” His golden eyes burn into mine, filled with a desperate hunger that matches the ache in my chest.

I see it then - the way his hands clench at his sides to keep from reaching for me. How his wings quiver with the effort of staying folded. The muscle jumping in his jaw as he fights for control. Every inch of him screams restraint, but his eyes... his eyes tell the truth.

He does want me. The realization hits like lightning through my veins.

"You already do." The words come out barely above a whisper, but they land like a physical blow. His wings snap partially open, the golden feathers catching the lamplight. "You can lie to yourself, Ridwan, but don't lie to me. I see how you watch me when you think I'm not looking. How your wings reach for me before you force them back."

He takes a step forward, closing the distance between us until I have to tilt my head back to hold his gaze. Heat radiates from his body, and my skin tingles with awareness. My fingers itch to reach up, to trace the scar on his cheek, to tangle in his dark waves of hair.

"Eva." My name comes out like a prayer and a curse wrapped into one. His wings curl forward, not quite touching but creating a golden cage around us. Trapping us in this moment where anything feels possible.

I see the war raging behind his eyes - duty versus desire, control versus need. His breath comes in quick, sharp pants that match my own racing heart. One of us will have to break first.

I'm just afraid he'll break me .