Page 24 of The Demon’s Little Girl

ROVAK

T he zarryn's hooves clatter against the cobblestones as we make our way back through the winding streets.

The negotiations with the eastern port merchants had gone well enough—new trade routes secured, tariffs renegotiated in our favor.

Standard business that usually leaves me feeling satisfied with a day's work.

But today, my thoughts keep drifting back to the estate. To her.

Avenor rides beside me, silver hair catching the late afternoon sun as he navigates his mount through a cluster of street vendors. His posture is relaxed, but I can feel him watching me with that calculating gaze that sees far too much. He's been unusually quiet since we left the trading halls.

"The Merchant's Guild was more agreeable than expected," I comment, trying to fill the silence that's beginning to feel weighted.

"Mm." Avenor adjusts his reins, guiding his zarryn around a cart loaded with quillnash. "They know better than to cross you on shipping routes."

We clear the city proper, the road opening up before us as the walls of the city fall behind.

The coastal breeze carries the salt tang of the sea and something else—the faint sweetness of aracin blossoms blooming along the cliffs.

It should be peaceful, this familiar ride home, but restless energy thrums under my skin.

"You seem happy she's back."

The observation comes out of nowhere, casual as breathing, but I know Avenor well enough to recognize the deliberate timing. He's been working up to this conversation for miles.

"Of course I am." The answer comes too quickly, defensive in a way that makes his mouth twitch slightly. "She belongs at the estate."

"With you."

The words hang between us, heavier than they should be. My hands tighten on the reins, and my zarryn snorts in response to the sudden tension.

"She has a place there," I say carefully. "Both of them do."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it."

I glance sideways at him, taking in the sharp angles of his face, the knowing look in those navy eyes. Avenor has never been one to dance around difficult topics, but this feels like dangerous territory even for him.

"What exactly are you suggesting?"

"I'm suggesting you stop pretending you don't want her." His tone is matter-of-fact, as if we're discussing grain prices instead of the thing that's been eating me alive for years. "She's back, Rovak. She's here. Make a move."

The suggestion hits like a physical blow, stirring up all the hunger I've been keeping carefully leashed.

Images flash through my mind—Liora's soft curves pressed against me in the garden, the way she'd moved on top of me with desperate need, the broken sound she'd made when she came apart in my arms.

"It's not that simple."

"Isn't it?" Avenor's zarryn sidesteps closer, forcing me to look at him. "You want her. She clearly wants you, based on what I interrupted in the garden yesterday morning. What's complicated about that?"

Heat floods my face at the reminder. Finding Liora disheveled and flushed, her scent mixed with mine in ways that had made my cock hard instantly. The knowledge that she'd been touching herself while thinking of me, that she'd climaxed calling my name.

"You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't I?" His laugh is sharp, humorless. "I've watched you pine after her for years. Watched you turn yourself inside out trying to be noble and restrained. And for what? She's not some fragile thing that's going to shatter if you touch her."

My jaw clenches at his words, partly because they hit too close to home. "She ran once. What makes you think she won't do it again?"

The question tastes bitter on my tongue, but it's the fear that keeps me awake at night. The terror that if I push too hard, move too fast, she'll disappear again. And this time, I might not be lucky enough to find her.

"You think that's why she left?" Avenor's voice gentles slightly, losing some of its edge. "Because of something you did?"

"I don't know why she left." The admission scrapes against my throat like broken glass. "She won't tell me, and I can't force her. But whatever it was, it sent her running for two years. I won't be responsible for making her feel that desperate again."

We ride in silence for a while, the only sounds the rhythmic hoofbeats and the distant cry of black pitter birds wheeling overhead.

My mind churns through the same questions that have been haunting me since she returned.

What drove her away? Who is Nalla's father?

Why did she look at me with such careful distance when I first saw her again?

"I don't know why she left either," Avenor says finally, his voice uncharacteristically subdued. "But I know she's different now. Older. Stronger. And I know she's not the same woman who ran away in the middle of the night."

"What if I'm not worth the risk to her?" The question slips out before I can stop it, revealing more vulnerability than I'm comfortable with. "What if she stayed away because she realized she deserved better?"

Avenor actually laughs at that, the sound harsh in the afternoon air. "Better than you? Rovak, you're an idiot if you believe that."

"I'm a demon. A trader who deals in violence when necessary. She's..." I struggle for words that can encompass everything Liora is. "She's gentle. Kind. She sees good in things that don't deserve it."

"She sees good in you."

The simple statement lands like a blow, stirring up emotions I'd rather keep buried.

Because it's true—somehow, inexplicably, Liora has always looked at me without fear.

Even in those early days when she was just another human servant, she'd met my gaze directly, spoken to me without the cowering deference most showed.

"She used to," I correct quietly. "Before whatever happened to make her leave."

"She still does." Avenor's certainty grates against my doubts. "Rovak, the way she looks at you when she thinks no one's watching... it's like you hung the moon."

Hope flares in my chest before I can stamp it down. Hope is a dangerous thing when it comes to Liora. It makes me want to believe in possibilities that might not exist.

"Even if that's true, pushing her too fast could destroy whatever trust we've rebuilt. I won't risk it."

"So what's your plan? Pine after her for another decade while pretending you don't want to bury yourself so deep inside her you forget your own name?"

The crude imagery hits like a punch to the gut, making my cock twitch against my thigh.

Because he's right—I do want that. Want to claim every inch of her, to make her mine in every way that matters.

The hunger for her has only grown stronger since she's been back, fed by stolen moments and careful touches that never go far enough.

"My plan is to be patient. To let her set the pace."

"And if the pace she sets is glacial?"

I don't have an answer for that. Can't admit that the thought of spending years in this careful dance of restraint might actually kill me.

Every morning at breakfast when she smiles at me over her tea, every evening when she lets me help put Nalla to bed, every accidental touch that sends fire racing through my veins—it's slowly driving me insane.

The estate comes into view as we crest the final hill, its dark stone walls rising against the sky like a fortress. Home. Where Liora and Nalla are waiting, probably in the garden or Liora's room. The knowledge that they're there, safe and within reach, settles something restless in my chest.

"Just... think about what I said," Avenor murmurs as we approach the gates. "Life's too short to waste on noble suffering."

I grunt noncommittally, but his words follow me as we enter the courtyard and hand our mounts over to the stable hands.

The familiar routine of returning from business should ground me, but instead I find myself scanning the windows for a glimpse of mahogany curls or listening for Nalla's bright laughter.

There—in the garden. I can hear Liora's voice carried on the breeze, light and warm in a way that makes my chest tight. Without conscious decision, my feet carry me in that direction, drawn by the magnetic pull that's existed between us since long before I was willing to acknowledge it.

I find them on the grass beneath the old kirral tree, Nalla babbling excitedly as she chases a thalivern that's dancing just out of her reach.

Her tiny legs pump with determination, pale gold eyes bright with joy as she lurches after her prey.

Liora sits nearby, ready to catch her if she falls, but giving her the freedom to explore.

The sight of them together—my girls, though I have no right to think of them that way—hits me with devastating force. This is what I could have, what I've been dreaming of without admitting it to myself. A life. A family. Everything I never thought I wanted until I met her.

Liora looks up as my shadow falls across the grass, and the smile that spreads across her face is like sunlight breaking through clouds. No fear, no hesitation—just genuine pleasure at seeing me.

"You're back early."

"The negotiations went quicker than expected." I lower myself to the grass beside her, close enough to catch her scent but not so close as to crowd her. "How has your day been?"

"Good. Nalla discovered she can climb onto the garden benches, so that's been an adventure."

As if summoned by her name, my little warrior abandons her thalivern hunt and comes toddling over, arms outstretched in clear demand. I scoop her up without hesitation, settling her against my chest as she babbles something that might be a greeting.

"Did you have fun today, little one?" I ask, smoothing down the dark curls that are already escaping from whatever Liora did to contain them this morning.

Nalla responds with a string of nonsense syllables delivered with great seriousness, as if she's giving me a detailed report of her activities. Her tiny hand pats my horn, still fascinated by the texture despite having done this dozens of times already.

Liora laughs at something in Nalla's expression, the sound rich and unguarded in a way that makes warmth spread through my chest. This is the woman I fell for—not the careful, guarded version who first returned, but the one who glows when she's truly happy.

"She's been trying to tell me something all afternoon," Liora says, shifting closer so she can see Nalla's face better. "I think it involves the thalivern, but I can't quite translate."

The casual intimacy of the moment—the three of us together like an actual family—makes something ache in my chest. This is what Avenor meant. This is what I could have, if I'm brave enough to reach for it.

Nalla chooses that moment to grab a handful of my hair and tug experimentally, her face scrunched in concentration. The slight pain grounds me, reminds me that this is real. They're here, both of them, and for now that has to be enough.

Even if the wanting is slowly killing me.

I adjust Nalla's position, letting her explore while keeping her secure, and catch Liora watching me with an expression I can't quite read. There's something soft in her amber eyes, something that makes hope flutter dangerously in my chest.

Maybe having them here, happy and safe, could be enough. Maybe watching Liora smile and helping raise the daughter she clearly adores would fill the hollow spaces in my life that I'd forgotten existed. Maybe the constant ache of unfulfilled desire would eventually fade to something manageable.

But even as I try to convince myself of that comforting lie, I know the truth. Want doesn't fade—it grows, fed by every shared moment and stolen glance. The hunger for her has roots that go too deep to simply starve away.

For now, though, I can pretend. Can sit in this garden with the two people who've somehow become my whole world and imagine that this careful distance is sustainable. That I can keep my hands to myself and my heart locked away indefinitely.

Nalla discovers my ear and decides it needs thorough investigation, her tiny fingers surprisingly gentle as she traces the pointed tip. Liora reaches over to redirect her before she can grab too hard, and her hand brushes mine in the process.

The brief contact sends heat shooting up my arm, and from the way Liora's breath catches, she feels it too. For a moment, we're frozen there—hands touching, eyes locked, the air between us charged with everything we're not saying.

Then Nalla makes a demanding sound, breaking the spell, and Liora pulls her hand away. But the flush in her cheeks and the quick flutter of her pulse at her throat tell me everything I need to know.

She wants me too. Avenor was right about that much.

The question is whether either of us is brave enough to do something about it.