Page 22 of Demon Daddy’s Nanny (Demon Daddies #3)

22

EVA

I stand before the mirror, fingers tracing my lips where Ridwan's kisses still linger from last night. My reflection shows flushed cheeks, and I can't help but remember the heat of his mouth, the possessive grip of his hands on my thighs as he...

I splash cold water on my face. Focus.

The halls feel longer this morning as I make my way to breakfast. Each step echoes with memories of his touch, his growled commands, the way he'd pulled pleasure from my body until I'd nearly collapsed against the balcony railing. But then he'd kissed me - so gentle it made my heart ache - and disappeared into the night without a word.

The dining room doors loom before me. I straighten my dress, smooth my hair, and step inside.

Ridwan sits at the head of the table, broad shoulders rigid as he reads through papers. He doesn't look up. Annalise slouches in her chair, picking at her food while shooting suspicious glances between us.

"Morning." My voice comes out steadier than I expect.

Ridwan's response is a curt nod, golden eyes never leaving his documents. The distance in his demeanor hits like a physical blow.

I slide into my usual seat, the chair scraping against the floors. A servant places a plate before me, but the smell of fresh bread turns my stomach.

"You're quiet this morning." Annalise's silver eyes narrow. "Both of you."

"Just tired." I reach for my tea, needing something to do with my hands.

"Indeed." Ridwan's deep voice carries none of last night's warmth. He stands, gathering his papers. "I have meetings. Annalise, don't skip your studies today."

He strides out, wings folded tight against his back. The door closes with a quiet click that somehow hurts more than if he'd slammed it.

I stare into my cup, throat tight. What did I expect? That one night would crack through years of carefully maintained walls?

"What's wrong with him?" Annalise asks, but there's something knowing in her tone that makes me wonder just how much she suspects.

"Nothing." I force myself to take a bite of food I can't taste. "Your father's just being your father."

"So what happened?" Annalise's fork clatters against her plate. "And don't say 'nothing' again. You two are acting weird."

I pick at my bread, tearing it into smaller and smaller pieces. "Your father and I... we had a moment. That's all."

"A moment?" Her eyes light up with interest, and I immediately shake my head.

“You know he doesn’t like people getting too close to him. Perhaps, I…pushed too hard.” I shouldn’t have said anything at all, but she would have kept pushing.

"And now he's being..." She waves her hand in the direction he left.

"Distant. Cold." I drop the mangled bread. "I don't know what I expected."

"He does this." Annalise leans forward, voice dropping. "Gets close then pulls away. Did it with Mom too, according to the staff who knew them. He's scared."

I study her face - so young yet carrying wisdom beyond her years. "Scared of what?"

"Everything. Feeling too much. Losing control." She shrugs. "Being happy, probably. Took him forever to let her in and then he really shut down after she died."

My fingers trace the rim of my teacup. Through the steam, I see glimpses of last night - the vulnerability in his golden eyes before he kissed me, the way his hands explored my skin, the way he'd whispered my name like a prayer. But then morning came, and those walls slammed back into place.

"He likes you," Annalise continues, surprisingly astute for fourteen. "I see how he watches you when he thinks no one's looking. But he’s not good at letting go of control."

"When did you get so perceptive?"

"When you're ignored enough, you learn to watch people." There's no bitterness in her tone, just statement of fact. "He's doing the same thing he did after Mom died - putting distance between himself and anything that might hurt him."

I remember the fear I'd glimpsed in his eyes just before he'd walked away last night. Not fear of me, but of what I represent - connection, vulnerability, the possibility of loss.

"I'm not going anywhere," I whisper, more to myself than Annalise.

She reaches across the table, squeezing my hand. "Maybe he needs to hear that."

"You should get started on your studies." I push back from the table, needing movement to settle my racing thoughts. "History first?"

Annalise groans but follows me to the library. The massive room holds thousands of books, their spines gleaming gold in the morning light. We settle at our usual table near the window, but my mind keeps drifting to last night - to the way Ridwan's wings had curled around us, creating a private world where nothing existed but his touch.

"You're not even listening." Annalise waves her hand in front of my face.

"Sorry." I blink, focusing on the open book. The words blur together.

"Just go talk to him."

"It's not that simple." My fingers trace the ancient text, feeling the indentations of each letter. "Your father... he's like one of these books. Layer upon layer of history, of pain, of responsibility."

"And you're scared, too."

The observation hits too close. "What?"

"You're afraid to let him in - afraid he’ll break your heart." She closes her book. "But one of you will have to break the ice.”

Heat floods my cheeks. She's right - I know she is. Ridwan will never willingly let someone close, but he clearly wants me. Am I just as bad as him, just as afraid?

"We shouldn’t talk about your father,” I say with finality. She might know him best, but I don’t need her getting the wrong idea.

Even if her words are hitting me hard. What if she’s right and he does break my heart? What if this is all just physical for him?

The thought settles in my chest like a weight. Last night, in those moments when he'd held me after, his touch had been reverent. Tender. Like he was memorizing every inch of my skin, knowing he'd deny himself again come morning.

"He's an idiot." Annalise declares with all the conviction of youth.

I manage a small smile. "He's your father."

"Exactly. I know what I'm talking about."

After our failed study session, Annalise leads me to the gardens. The morning sun catches in her platinum hair, making it shimmer like starlight against the dark foliage. She settles onto a stone bench beneath twisted vines bearing purple blooms, her wings folded neatly behind her.

"Maybe there’s something you should know…”

I don’t like the way she says that. “And that would be?”

“Mom died before they could complete the soul bond." Her fingers pluck at a fallen petal. "Dad never talks about it, but I found her journals hidden in the library. I think it bothers him, not just that he lost her but that he never even had her the way most xaphan do with their mates."

My heart clenches. "They were planning to?"

"Right after I was born." Annalise's silver eyes fix on the distant mountains. "The Nashai was already arranged. But then she got sick, and..." She shrugs, the gesture too heavy for her young shoulders.

I sink onto the bench beside her, processing this revelation. "So they never formed that connection?"

"No. And I think..." She tears the petal into tiny pieces. "I think that's why he won't let anyone close now. The soul bond would have linked them forever, made them truly one. But losing her without it? Maybe he feels like he failed her somehow."

The garden breeze carries the scent of night-blooming flowers, sweet and melancholy. I think of Ridwan's carefully maintained control, the walls he's built so high. How many nights has he spent wondering what might have been different if they'd completed the bond sooner?

"He loved her so much." Annalise's voice drops to barely a whisper. “I know he did. But that doesn’t mean that he has to shut you out. I’m not replacing my mom with you, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you in my life, too.”

The revelation sits heavy in my chest. Is that why he pulled away? Because the echo of those old feelings terrifies him? Because loving someone - truly loving them - means risking that devastating loss all over again?

"He's still grieving," I murmur, more to myself than Annalise. "Not just her death, but the connection they never got to share."

The weight of Annalise's words settles in my bones. My fingers dig into the rough stone bench, anchoring me against the surge of emotions threatening to overflow.

"I won't be a replacement." The words come out sharp, cutting through the garden's peaceful atmosphere. "I can't be her ghost."

Annalise's wings rustle. "That's not what I-"

"I know." I stand, needing to move. The purple blooms blur as I pace. "But I won't let him use his grief as an excuse to treat me like I don't matter."

"Eva-"

"No." Heat rises in my chest, familiar and fierce. "I've spent my whole life being overlooked because I'm human. Being treated as less. I won't do it anymore, not even for him."

My hands shake as I remember his touch, so tender in the darkness. But tenderness means nothing without courage to back it. Without the willingness to face the light of day.

He needs to decide. I won't be some secret he's ashamed of, some weakness he has to control. Either he faces what's between us or...

Or what? Leave? The thought of walking away from Ridwan, from Annalise, makes my chest ache. But staying, watching him retreat further behind those walls while pretending last night never happened - that might break me completely.

"I care about him." The admission feels like glass in my throat. Because I do care about him. More than I should. But I won't let him make me feel small just because he's afraid to feel anything at all.

Annalise reaches for my hand, her grip surprisingly strong. "Then tell him that."

"Maybe I will." I squeeze her fingers, drawing strength from her unwavering support. Because this limbo? This push and pull? It has to stop. I deserve better than half-measures and morning-after regrets.

The garden suddenly feels too confined, too full of whispered secrets and painful revelations. My skin prickles with restless energy, with the need to confront this thing head-on before it festers into something bitter and broken.

I try to shake it off. “Now, let’s focus on you. Enough about your father.”

Annalise rolls her eyes but she doesn’t push any farther. Even though I can tell she wants to, she lets it go. For now.