Page 16 of Demon Daddy’s Secret Twins (Demon Daddies #2)

16

MAZAN

I t’s midday when we finally get out of bed. I’ve savored as much time as I can holding her, kissing her, enjoying how she lets me touch her now. I’m scared that when I leave, she’ll overthink it all and won’t want to let me back in.

But I don’t have an option.

I pull my shirt over my head, watching Loxley from the corner of my eye. She lingers by the bedroom doorway, fingers tracing invisible patterns on the wooden frame. Her loose auburn braids cascade over one shoulder, still mussed from sleep. She’s so beautiful. From the way she shifts her weight between feet, I can tell she wants to say something but can't find the words.

"I have to go." My voice comes out softer than intended.

She nods, but her golden-brown eyes betray a flicker of... something. Fear? Uncertainty?

I cross the room in two strides, my wings folding tight against my back to navigate her narrow hallway. Cupping her face in my hands, I'm struck by how small she feels - how delicate, despite the strength I know runs through her. She leans into my touch, eyes fluttering closed for a heartbeat. The simple trust in that gesture makes my chest tight.

"I'll be back next week. Just like always." I brush my thumb across her cheekbone. The gold lines beneath my skin pulse faintly at the contact.

"I know." Her voice is barely above a whisper.

Looking down at her, I know she needs time to process everything that happened between us. Last night was... intense. Beautiful. But for someone with her past, with those scars she carries, I understand the need for space. The way she responded to my touch told me she enjoyed herself, but her mind needs time to reconcile pleasure with her painful history.

"Go." She manages a small smile, stepping back from my touch. "You have responsibilities."

She's right. Asmodeus will be expecting his morning report, and I'm already later than usual. But watching her wrap her arms around herself, trying to look strong and unbothered, makes leaving harder than it should be.

Outside, the portal's dark energy crackles around me as I step through, emerging into my chambers in the palace of Ti'lith. The familiar weight of Galmoleth's perpetual storm settles over me, a stark contrast to Aurelius's sun-drenched mornings. My wings stretch wide, adjusting to the heavier atmosphere.

Red light filters through the crystalline windows, casting crimson shadows across the black stone floors. My quarters are sparse - a bed draped in midnight blue silks, shelves lined with ancient texts, and a simple desk where I complete my duties. Everything in its place, orderly and controlled, just as I prefer it.

I move to the washbasin, splashing water on my face. In the mirror, my copper-red eyes reflect back at me, and I notice the faintest smile tugging at my lips. Memories of Loxley surface unbidden - her tentative trust, the way she'd finally let her guard down, how incredible she felt in my arms. I force the thoughts away. Here in Ti'lith, such softness has no place.

My horns catch the dim light as I change into more formal attire - black armor etched with gold runes of protection. Each piece clicks into place with practiced precision. The weight centers me, reminds me of my role. Here, I am Mazan, servant of King Asmodeus. The demon who visits a hidden island, who holds a woman with golden-brown eyes - that version of me must stay buried for now.

I arrange the papers on my desk, preparing for the day's duties. I know I won’t make it a week to wait for my return to Aurelius. But I need to give Loxley a few days. Then, I’ll meet her on the beach or at the waterfall and I’ll see how she feels - if she’ll shut me out or accept me back into her arms.

Either one, I’ll take. I’ll take anything when it comes to her.

The storm outside intensifies, lightning illuminating the glassy black plants that climb my chamber walls. Their leaves shimmer with each flash, like pieces of the night sky caught in crystal. Time to face another day in the demon court, where every word carries weight and every gesture holds meaning.

A sharp knock echoes through my chambers. Before I can respond, the door swings open and a zonak servant stumbles in, nearly tripping over his own feet.

"The King demands your presence. Now." His squat form trembles.

I follow the servant through Ti'lith's winding corridors, my wings tucked close. The black carapace walls pulse with veins of red energy, responding to the perpetual storm outside. Other demons press themselves against the walls as I pass, averting their eyes. The gold lines beneath my obsidian skin flare brighter with each step closer to the throne room.

Two volvath guards push open the massive obsidian doors. King Asmodeus sits upon his throne, shrouded in his ever- present hood. Even after years of service, the void-black eyes beneath that hood still unsettle me.

I drop to one knee, head bowed. "My King."

"Rise." His voice carries the weight of mountains. "You are to leave for Aerasak in one hour. I have trade negotiations with Ikoth that require... immediate attention. I need you to hand deliver the correspondence."

My stomach twists. Within the hour? I keep my face neutral, though my wings twitch slightly. "Of course, my King. "

My mind races to Loxley, to the supplies Aurelius needs. But I can't hesitate - any sign of reluctance would draw unwanted attention. "I will prepare immediately."

"Good." He waves his hand in dismissal. "The portal will open in the courtyard."

I bow again and stride from the throne room, my navy hair falling forward to hide the tension in my jaw. There's no time to send word to Aurelius, no way to warn Loxley without risking exposure. But I shouldn’t be gone long. It’s just a delivery. It will give her the few days she needs to sort through her feelings.

Even if I hate the concept of being so far from her.

My wings spread slightly in frustration as I return to my chambers to gather what I need. The thought of her waiting, wondering, makes my chest tight. But I've spent years protecting Aurelius's secret. One wrong move now could destroy everything.

I gather my travel gear with practiced efficiency, each movement precise despite my inner turmoil. Two sets of formal armor, spelled scrolls for communication, and a selection of defensive runes - just in case. My fingers brush against the small pouch of dried aracin blossoms I'd collected for Loxley last week. The delicate purple petals mock me from their silk wrapping.

It will only be a few days, I tell myself, securing the last buckle on my travel pack. I know I can’t portal to the King’s home directly. So I’ll have to arrive at the edge of Ikoth and travel the rest. Still, it won’t be long.

But something cold settles in my gut, a weight heavier than my armor. In all my years serving Asmodeus, I've learned to trust these instincts. I don’t like having to go to Aerasak, but I have no option. My copper-red eyes narrow as I study my reflection, checking my formal attire one final time.

The gold lines beneath my obsidian skin pulse faster than usual, responding to my unease. My wings shift restlessly, leather membranes catching the crimson light. Everything about this feels wrong.

I touch the rock that opens a portal to Aurelius, my magic reaching out of habit. But I pull back before activating it. Even a quick message risks too much. One unexplained delay at the wrong moment, one curious guard, and Aurelius's sanctuary would shatter. I've protected Lamain's secret too long to compromise it now.

Loxley's face flashes in my mind - the way she looked this morning, vulnerable yet trying so hard to appear strong. I will go to her as soon as I return. She’s expecting me in a week. I intend for it to be less.

I grab my pack with more force than necessary, my claws leaving slight marks in the leather. I'll explain everything when I return. But this knot in my chest, this creeping dread... I've survived countless battles by heeding such warnings. Something about this mission feels like walking into a trap, and I hate that I'm leaving Aurelius exposed.