Page 24

VAEL

I lean against the doorframe, frozen in place by the sight before me.

Trinity sits in the rocking chair by the window, cradling both twins against her chest. Moonlight catches in her hair, turning the brown waves into streams of liquid silver.

Her voice—so often sharp with wit or defensive walls—now spills into the room like honey, sweet and flowing.

She doesn't know I'm here. Doesn't see me watching as she sings some human lullaby to my daughters, her lips curved in that rare, unguarded smile I've come to crave like a drug.

Liora's tiny fist clutches at Trinity's nightdress while Kaelin's eyes are already drooping, lulled by the gentle cadence of her mother's voice.

Mother. The word still catches in my throat.

Trinity never wanted to be one—made that abundantly clear from the start—yet here she is, singing our daughters to sleep with such tenderness it makes my chest ache.

I should announce myself. Should clear my throat or step back or give her this private moment. Instead, I remain rooted to the spot, greedy for every second of this version of Trinity—the one without armor, without calculated moves.

Her song dips lower, the words becoming indistinct as she presses a kiss to each tiny forehead. Liora gives a contented sigh that seems impossibly adult for her small body.

"That's it," Trinity whispers, her voice barely carrying to where I stand. "Dream of beautiful things, my little loves."

The possessive makes something primitive stir in my chest. My little loves. Like they're hers. Like she might stay.

I must make some small sound—a shifting of weight, an intake of breath—because suddenly Trinity's head snaps up, those guarded green eyes finding mine in the darkness.

"How long have you been standing there?" Her walls slam back into place, her body tensing even as she cradles the twins protectively.

"Not long." The lie comes easily, though we both know better.

She rises with a dancer's grace, laying first Kaelin then Liora in their shared crib. Her hands linger on their bellies, ensuring they're settled before she turns to face me.

"Did you need something?" Professional. Distant. Nothing like the woman who had been singing moments before.

I step into the room, keeping my movements slow, non-threatening. "I heard singing."

Her cheeks flush, visible even in the dim light. "Just an old lullaby from my village."

"It's beautiful." I move closer, stopping when I see her shoulders tighten. "You're good with them."

Trinity shrugs, eyes darting to the exit I'm now partially blocking. "They make it easy. They're good babies."

"They're lucky to have you." I risk another step forward. She doesn't retreat but watches me with wary eyes.

"They have me until I leave," she reminds me, chin lifting slightly. "That was our deal."

I run a hand through my hair, frustration coiling in my gut. "Is that still what you want? To leave?"

A flicker of something—uncertainty, perhaps—crosses her face before she masters it. "It doesn't matter what I want. It's what we agreed to."

"Things change." My voice drops lower as I take another step. Now we're close enough that I can smell her—that intoxicating mix of nimond flowers and something uniquely Trinity. "People change."

She laughs, but there's no humor in it. "Demons don't change."

"I have." The admission costs me something—pride, perhaps, or the last shreds of my self-deception. "Since you. Since them."

Her green eyes widen slightly, flecks of gold catching in the moonlight. For a heartbeat, I think I see longing there—the same hunger that's been consuming me these past months.

"Vael..." Her voice catches. "Don't."

"Don't what?" I reach out, my fingers barely brushing her cheek. "Don't tell you that I see you? That I know there's more between us than a bargain?"

She flinches away from my touch as if burned. "There isn't. There can't be."

"Why?" I demand, the question harsher than I intended. Behind us, Kaelin stirs, and we both freeze until her breathing evens out again.

Trinity takes advantage of my distraction to step back, putting more distance between us. "Because I can't trust this. Any of it." She gestures between us. "I've survived by knowing exactly where I stand, and with you—" She breaks off, swallowing hard. "With you, I don't know anymore."

"You stand with me," I tell her, fighting the urge to close the distance she's created. "Beside me. Not beneath me, not as a possession. As..."

The word I want to say catches in my throat. It's too much, too soon. We're not ready.

"As what?" she challenges, arms crossing over her chest.

I exhale slowly. "As someone I care about. Someone who matters."

Her expression falters, vulnerability flashing across her features before she smooths it away. "Caring is dangerous."

"Yes," I agree quietly. "It is."

For a moment, we simply look at each other, the air between us charged with all the things we won't say. Then Trinity steps past me toward the door.

"Goodnight, Vael."

I watch her go, fighting every instinct that screams at me to follow, to make her understand. But I've pushed enough for one night, and Trinity—my fierce, fragile Trinity—needs time.

"Goodnight," I whisper, long after she's gone.

I don't sleep much that night. My mind keeps replaying Trinity's expression—that brief flash of vulnerability before her walls slammed back into place. By dawn, I've given up entirely, padding through the quiet house toward the nursery.

The soft morning light filters through the gossamer curtains, casting the room in a gentle glow.

My daughters sleep peacefully in their shared crib, tiny chests rising and falling in perfect synchronicity.

I lean over the edge, marveling at how such small creatures have completely unraveled my carefully ordered life.

"You two have turned me into someone I don't recognize," I murmur, gently tracing my finger along Liora's cheek. Her skin feels impossibly soft beneath my calloused touch. "I used to be feared across two worlds, you know."

As if sensing my presence, Kaelin's eyes flutter open—those striking red-amber orbs with green flecks that mirror my own but carry Trinity's intensity. She doesn't cry, just stares up at me with what looks suspiciously like judgment.

"Don't give me that look," I tell her seriously. "I'm perfectly capable of handling this."

She waves her tiny fists, unconvinced.

"Fine, you've made your point." I carefully lift her from the crib, cradling her against my chest. Her weight is nothing in my arms, but the responsibility feels immense. "Let's let your sister sleep a bit longer, hmm?"

I settle into the rocking chair where Trinity sat last night, adjusting Kaelin so she can see my face. Her tiny brow furrows as she studies me intently.

"You get that look from your mother," I inform her. "That 'I don't believe your bullshit for a second' expression. She's perfected it."

Kaelin reaches up, her fingers finding my chin. I lean closer, letting her explore my face with curious hands. When those small fingers graze one of my horns, I hold perfectly still, afraid she might hurt herself on the sharp edge.

"Careful there, little warrior. Those are sharper than they look."

She makes a soft cooing sound, completely fearless. Of course my daughter wouldn't be afraid of demon horns—they're as much a part of her heritage as her human mother's stubborn spirit.

From the crib, Liora begins to stir. Her cries start soft but quickly grow more insistent. I rise with Kaelin secure against my shoulder and retrieve her sister with my free arm.

"There we go," I murmur, settling back into the chair with both twins. "The whole legion assembled."

Liora quiets immediately once she's nestled against me, those golden eyes blinking up sleepily. Where Kaelin is bold exploration, Liora is quiet observation, watching everything with those knowing eyes.

"You two couldn't be more different if you tried," I tell them, rocking gently. "Kaelin ready to take on the world, and Liora figuring out how it all works first."

Kaelin grabs at my thumb, her grip surprisingly strong.

"That's right," I chuckle. "You'll make a fine hunter someday. Maybe even better than your old man."

I never imagined this—sitting in a nursery at dawn, talking to my half-human daughters as if they understand every word. The bounty hunter of Aerasak, terror of criminals across two worlds, completely at the mercy of two tiny beings.

"Your mother thinks I can't change." I keep my voice soft, gentle. "That demons don't change. She might be right about most of my kind, but she doesn't understand what she's done to me."

Liora's eyes seem to widen at the mention of Trinity, her tiny head turning as if looking for her.

"She'll be here soon," I promise. "And she loves you both so much, even if she's scared to admit how much."

I shift them slightly, making sure both are comfortable against my chest. "Maybe you two can help me show her that she belongs here. That she doesn't have to leave when you're a bit older."

Kaelin makes a gurgling sound that I choose to interpret as agreement.

"Exactly. We're not forcing her to stay—that's the last thing I'd ever do. She's had enough of that in her life." I brush my lips against each tiny forehead. "But we can show her what she'd be missing if she goes."

The sound of soft footsteps in the hallway makes me pause. I don't look up when Trinity appears in the doorway, pretending I haven't noticed her presence. Let her see this moment without my awareness adding pressure.

"Look at that sunrise," I tell my daughters, nodding toward the window where Aerasak's crimson sky is blooming into morning. "Nothing like it in all the worlds. One day, I'll show you every corner of this planet. All the places worth seeing."

Kaelin grabs at my finger again and I let her capture it, smiling as her tiny hand barely encircles my thumb.

"Strong grip you've got there. Going to be trouble when you're older, I can already tell."

Liora, not to be outdone, reaches for my other hand. I shift to accommodate, letting both my daughters hold onto me as if I'm their anchor in this new world they're discovering.

I never expected to want to be that so much.

For all three of my girls.