Page 28 of Demon Daddy’s Secret Twins (Demon Daddies #2)

28

MAZAN

T he jungle canopy stretches above me, branches swaying in patterns that would normally bring peace. Not today. My wings twitch with the urge to take flight, to escape into the air where thoughts might make more sense. But I remain rooted to the fallen log, my claws digging grooves into the weathered bark.

Sons. The word echoes in my mind, refusing to settle. Two small lives I never knew existed. The anger burns hot in my chest, making my markings flare gold against my obsidian skin. How could she keep this from me?

My fingers curl into fists. The rational part of my mind whispers that I abandoned her first, even if it wasn't by choice. Those three years in xaphan captivity cost me more than I realized. But the demon in me, the part that demands control and knowledge of all things, rails against the secrecy.

The urge to storm back to her treehouse pulses through me. To demand answers, to see them with my own eyes again. But a lifetime of serving the palace has taught me the value of patience, even when it feels like molten lead in my veins. Meeting them while fury clouds my judgment would only cause harm.

A distant crash echoes through the jungle - likely one of the larger beasts moving through the underbrush. The familiar sound grounds me, pulls me back from the edge of my rage. I inhale deeply, letting the rich scents of soil and vegetation fill my lungs.

My wings settle against my back as I force the tension from my shoulders. I need time. Time to process, to understand. Time to be worthy of meeting them. These boys deserve better than a father's anger as their first memory of him.

The golden lines across my skin dim as my breathing steadies. Two years. They've lived over two years without me. A little more time won't matter, not if it means doing this right.

Rising from the log, I let my feet carry me toward the distant sound of waves. The beach has always been a place of clarity for me, even if most demons avoid water. The salt air fills my lungs as I emerge from the treeline.

Movement catches my eye. Two small figures dart across the sand, their laughter carried on the breeze. My heart stops.

I fade back into the shadows of a massive tree, my wings wrapping around me like a shield. But I can't tear my gaze away from them. My sons.

The bolder one - Kaelar, I remember Loxley saying - charges ahead, tiny horns catching the sunlight as he runs. He moves like I do, with that same fluid grace that marks our kind. His brother follows more cautiously, studying the ground before each step.

Sorien. Even from here, I see how he holds back, watching everything with those mismatched eyes. One gold-brown like his mother's, one red like mine. He reaches for his brother's hand when a wave crashes too close, and something in my chest constricts.

They're building something in the sand, their small hands working with focused determination as Loxley watches from a distance. Kaelar gestures wildly, explaining his vision while Sorien nods, adding careful details to whatever they're creating. The same way I plan battles, breaking down complex strategies into manageable pieces.

A laugh bubbles up from Kaelar - bright and fearless - and for a moment, I see myself at that age, though I was never as easy going as him. Sorien's smile is quieter, but no less joyful. They share the same bronze skin, the same wild dark hair that refuses to be tamed.

My claws dig into the tree bark. These boys are pieces of me, living and breathing and growing without knowing their father watches from the shadows. They don't know why they have horns, why their skin sometimes shimmers with power when they're excited. They don't know their heritage, their strength, their potential.

They don't know me.

The peaceful moment shatters as Kaelar races toward a towering banyan tree. My muscles tense as he spreads his small wings - barely more than stubs really - and attempts to launch himself at the lowest branch. His claws scrape against the bark as he slides back down.

"Watch me!" He calls to his brother, determination burning in those copper-gold eyes that mirror my own. Another attempt, another slide.

Sorien inches closer, wringing his hands. "Maybe we should go back..."

"I can do it!" Kaelar's wings flutter frantically, but they're too underdeveloped to give him the lift he needs. His next jump ends with him sprawled in the sand.

Before I realize I've moved, I'm stepping out of the shadows. "Your wings aren't strong enough yet. But there's another way."

Both boys freeze. Sorien immediately steps behind his brother, one eye gold-brown, the other red, studying me with an intensity that reminds me of looking in a mirror. Kaelar squares his shoulders, placing himself between me and Sorien - protective, like any demon should be of family.

"Who are you?" Kaelar demands, his small horns catching the sunlight.

Movement draws my attention to the treeline where Loxley stands, her golden-brown eyes locked on me. She doesn't intervene, but her body remains coiled tight, ready to move if needed.

I kneel in the sand, making myself less imposing. "I'm like you." I extend one wing, letting them see the midnight blue membrane. "And I can show you how to climb without using these yet."

Kaelar's eyes widen at my wings. He takes a half step forward before Sorien's hand on his arm stops him.

"Look." I turn to the tree, positioning my claws. "It's about balance. Your weight goes here, then here." I demonstrate a slow climb, letting them see how to counterbalance each move. When I drop back down, Kaelar's expression has shifted from suspicion to fascination.

"Can I try?" He asks, already moving forward despite Sorien's worried noise.

I guide his hands to the right positions. "Keep your core tight. Lean to stay balanced." His face scrunches in concentration as he follows my instructions. This time when he moves up the trunk, his movements are steady, controlled.

"I'm doing it!" His laugh rings out, pure joy echoing across the beach.

Sorien edges closer as his brother climbs higher, his mismatched eyes darting between me and the tree. His caution reminds me of myself - always analyzing, always watching. When Kaelar reaches the lowest branch, Sorien's worried frown melts into a tentative smile.

"Your turn?" I offer, gesturing to the trunk.

He shakes his head, shuffling back a step. "I'll watch."

"He likes the ground," Kaelar calls down, swinging his legs. "But he's good at shells! Show him, Sor!"

Pride straightens Sorien's shoulders. He digs in his pocket and pulls out a spiral shell, holding it up for my inspection. The patterns swirl in complex designs, catching the light. "Colors change in the sun."

"A good eye for detail." I examine the shell carefully. "That's a rare find."

His chest puffs up slightly, and for a moment, his guard drops. "I found three. Kae helps clean them."

We spend the next hour hunting shells while Kaelar practices climbing, each boy slowly relaxing in my presence. They don't know who I am, but something in their blood recognizes their own kind. It's in the way they mirror my movements, the natural rhythm we fall into.

"Boys!" Loxley's voice carries across the beach. "Time for dinner."

Kaelar groans from his perch. "I want to climb!"

"Now." Her tone brooks no argument, though her eyes remain fixed on me.

The boys gather their shells, Kaelar sliding down the trunk with his new technique. They wave goodbye before racing toward their mother, already arguing about who found the best treasures today.

Loxley takes a step toward me, her auburn braids catching the dying light. "Mazan-"

"Not yet." The words come out rougher than intended. Three years of secrets sit between us, heavy as stone. "I need time."

Pain flashes across her face before she masks it. "We need to talk about them."

"We will." My wings flex with the urge to take flight. "But not today."

I turn away before she can respond, my claws digging into my palms. The boys' laughter echoes behind me as I disappear into the jungle shadows. Their joy makes the ache in my chest sharper, a reminder of all I've missed.