Page 5 of Monster Daddies

Why not? Why shouldn't I dare? This tiny creature... thishumancalls at me.

And I am powerless to resist the call.

::I need to see her.::is my only response as I move deeper into the house.

::I forbid you to reveal yourself to her!::he orders me, unnecessarily.

::Of course.::There is no way I will risk frightening her away right now. Ichabod made it plain that she has no knowledge of the family, of the secrets the manor holds.

Revealing ourselves now, on her first night, will terrify her. Might end up chasing her away.

::I just want to watch. Just for a while. I promise.::

And goddess help me, I really do.

I reach the library just seconds before Viraat catches up. His claws click softly against the stone floor behind me, but he doesn’t say another word.

There’s no need.

Because the moment I see her—curled up on the settee, legs tucked beneath her, one hand gently resting on the creature in her lap while the other held an open book—I feel it.

It strikes like lightning.

My breath catches in my chest.

That tether.

That pull.

The ancient magic that binds us to the bloodline...

It snaps tight.

My soul knows hers.

Viraat stiffens beside me. I don’t need to look at him to know—he feels it too.

Young, mysterious Avalon Apples isn’t just the last of her line.

She’s ours.

Our fated.

What the hell are we going to do now?

I'm not sure how long we stand there staring at her, but we both startle when Avalon shifts on the settee, one arm curling protectively around the cat, the book falling to her lap as she yawns. The firelight flickers across her face, softening her already delicate features. A quiet peace radiates from her, unaware of the storm she has awakened in us.

I take one step closer before I feel Viraat's hand clamp down on my shoulder.

"No," he rumbles, voice low and tight.

I tear my eyes from her and nod once. We move as one, slipping back through the manor's shadowed halls, silent and unseen.

Years of hiding makes the task second nature.

By the time we reach the outer corridor leading up to the tower, the moon has cleared the clouds, lightening the stone around us.

We ascend without speaking, wings brushing occasionally in the narrow spiral stairwell. At the top, a thick oak door opens into the room I’ve made my own over the centuries.