Page 8 of Demon Daddy's Secret Twins
"The island..." He takes another slow step forward, stopping when I tense. "It feels different now that you're here. Brighter. More alive." His massive wings shift slightly. "I don't want anything from you, Loxley. Just... friendship. Nothing more."
The word 'friendship' hits like a physical blow. Men always want more. Always take more. The dark elves taught me that lesson with whips and chains and?—
I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing the memories back.
Mazan remains still, patient. When I open my eyes again, he's watching me with that steady gaze that never demands, never pushes.
I should walk away. Should run back to my treehouse and lock the door. Instead, I stand frozen, caught between fear and something else - something that feels dangerously like hope.
The silence stretches between us, filled with morning bird calls and distant waves. I don't answer him. Can't answer him. But I don't leave either, and somehow, that feels like the biggest step I've taken in years.
6
MAZAN
Istand at the edge of the jungle path, watching Loxley's familiar form disappear around the bend. Her auburn braids catch the morning light filtering through the canopy. My wings fold against my back as I follow, keeping enough distance that my footsteps won't startle her.
Today seems like one where she wants space. Her shoulders are tight, arms crossed over her chest as she walks. I've learned to read these signs over our daily encounters. When she glances back, I halt, giving her the room she needs.
Other mornings, she'll slow her pace until I catch up. Those are the days her steps are lighter, when she traces patterns in the sand with her toes or pauses to study the jungle flowers. Sometimes she even shares small observations about the island - never anything personal, but it's progress.
She veers left onto a narrower trail, and I adjust my course to maintain our distance. My horns brush against low-hanging vines - this path clearly isn't made for someone my height. But I don't mind. These quiet walks have become a ritual I look forward to, even when we don't exchange a single word.
The path opens to her favorite waterfall. She settles on her usual rock, knees pulled to her chest. I find my own spot in the shade, far enough that she won't feel crowded but close enough to protect her if needed. Not that she needs protection - her survival instincts are sharp as a blade. But it's in my nature to guard what I care about.
A gentle breeze carries the mist from the falls, making the golden lines across my skin shimmer. Loxley's gaze flicks toward the glow before darting away. She's curious about my magic, I can tell, but she never asks. I don't push. Time feels different here on Aurelius, and I have plenty of it to spare.
As the sun moves, though, she shifts closer to me, taking away the space until we look like we intended to be here at the same time. She tilts her head, and I can tell that whatever was bothering her has started to recede.
I don’t dare hope it’s because of my presence.
“Tell me a story,” she says softly.
I’ve never lived a very interesting life, but I always find the words for her. "Volezimir told me about this place during one of the worst storms I'd seen in Galmoleth." My voice barely carries over the rushing water. "Lightning struck so close it cracked the obsidian walls of the castle."
Loxley's posture shifts slightly - she always does this when I share pieces of myself, like she's trying not to show her interest.
"I found him outside, staring up at the rain as it battered at him.." I flex my wings, remembering. "He seemed lost, and I didn’t know how to help him. We didn't speak at first, just stood there in the rain. Then he told me about this island, about Lamain's sanctuary. Said he needed someone who understood the weight of secrets." The golden lines across my skin pulse with the memory. "Someone who knew what it meant to protect something precious."
I glance at Loxley. She's watching the water, but her head is tilted toward me.
"Most demons see loyalty as weakness. They serve out of fear or ambition. But Volezimir..." I pause, choosing my words carefully. "He serves because he believes in what he's protecting. That's why he trusted me with Aurelius. He saw the same in me. And he needed to chase Zylpha." I’m sure that Loxley has met the demon and his mate, who had disappeared for years.
The waterfall's mist catches the last rays of sunlight, creating a brief rainbow. Loxley's fingers uncurl from their tight grip on her knees.
"Every time I come here, I remember that night. The trust he placed in me, the purpose he gave me." I let my words fade into the sound of rushing water. "Some secrets are worth keeping, even from a King."
The silence stretches between us, comfortable now where it used to feel charged with tension. Loxley's fingers trace patterns in the dampness of the rock, and though her eyes stay fixed on the waterfall, her body angles slightly toward me. These subtle shifts speak volumes - she's listening, truly listening, not just hearing my words.
A branch snaps in the jungle behind us. Her spine stiffens, head whipping toward the sound. I remain still, projecting calm. It’s probably a likar that has no interest in us. Her shoulders ease when no threat emerges, but she's moved closer to my position without seeming to realize it.
The copper-red of my eyes reflects off the mist as I watch her settle. She fascinates me - this small, fierce creature who survived horrors yet still finds the strength to try trusting again, even if it's just these small moments by the falls. My wings shift, casting shadows that dance across the rocks between us.
She studies the patterns my wings make, then lets her gaze drift up to the golden lines etched into my obsidian skin. Themarks pulse gently with my magic, and I notice how she tracks their movement. There's curiosity there, hidden beneath her usual guardedness.
Her own scars catch the fading light - the one along her ribs visible through her thin shirt. She doesn't try to hide it anymore, at least not from me. Perhaps because she's seen my own battle marks, or maybe she's learning that not every gaze carries judgment.
The water's roar fills the space where words might go, but I'm content to wait. Patience comes naturally to me - it's how I've survived serving Asmodeus all these years. How I've kept Lamain's secrets. How I'm earning Loxley's trust, one silent moment at a time.
