Page 18 of Her Demon Daddy

I would be labeled a hypocrite and traitor if anyone knew I was doing this for any reason other than because I was bored. I could tell them I was using her for my own pleasure or taking advantage of her. that would be more accepted. The issue is that I would feel sicker speaking of her in that manner than being called a traitor.

My thoughts are interrupted by the dining room doors being swung open slowly. I stand and adjust my robes slightly, wondering why I feel a need to do so, when I see Siara walk in. My mouth drops, and I’m thankful she can’t see it. I knew the dress I picked for her would look great, but I didn’t think it would look this amazing on her. The cuts on it show off her skin and slight curves beautifully, and the train sweeps behind her, almost like the dress demands her to be treated like royalty.

Of course, she should be treated like royalty, anyway. Her spirit commands it, and she doesn’t even know. I close my mouth and watch as she walks through the dining room, gliding in her heels like she’s walked in them her whole life. Her gait and looks make my hands sweat and my heart race.

She smiles at me, and I don’t know what to say. I’m too captivated by her, even more than I was before. It’s not the dress or the heels that are making me unnerved, but how she carries herself in them, and she hasn’t even spoken to me yet.

Say something. Ithink as I watch Drar'ran pull out a chair for her at the end of the dining room table. She sits and adjusts herself in the seat. I sit down and think of what to say. Luckily, before I can do so, she speaks first.

“Thank you for the dress,” she remarks happily.

I want to clear my throat, but I don’t want her to hear it. “You’re welcome,” I say carefully, trying to be discreet as I clear my throat after.

A terrible thought crosses my mind, would she still be thankful if she knew how I looked beneath these robes? Would I receive the same smiling greetings from her if I removed this hood or told her the truth about my past? What if she knew how I got here? Would she still be excited to spar with me in the arena?

I feel an odd twinge of guilt and shake off the thoughts, motioning for my servants to bring us dinner. Tonight, I asked them to prepare something more special than usual. There is a rare hog on the Eastern side of Ti’lith that is only out of its hideout during the pause in electric storms, which isn’t often.

I have demons on that side of the island that are prepared to hunt it whenever the pause occurs and ship the meat to my castle. Siara has excelled in her studies lately and also in the arena. Even if she doesn’t know what she’s eating, I figured she deserved a delicacy.

“Thank you,” she says kindly to one of my servants.

It takes me aback that she would have manners toward a demon. I don’t know if I’ve ever said thank you to anyone but her if I have even said it to her. I motion to her plate and bow my head slightly.

“Please, eat.”

She takes a bite of her food and moans, nodding her head as she looks at me with piercing green eyes. I watch her lips move as she chews, and dangerous thoughts enter my mind. What would they feel like pressed against mine? How much would they tickle my skin if she ran them over my chest?

“This is amazing.” Her words break my fantasy.

“Thank you.”

Fuck, I just said it.What is going on with me? Why am I acting like this and losing control of my thoughts? She’s a human woman, the least threatening being on the planet. If anything, she should be thanking me. Well, she has quite a few times. Maybe her empathy and gratitude drive me to feel this way about her.

No, I’m not feeling anything for her,I remind myself as I eat. I still don’t know what to say to her, but I catch her glancing at me a few times as I pretend only to be looking at my food.

“The dress looks nice on you,” I comment, unable to stop myself.

“Well, thank you,” she responds with a sweet smile. “I almost feel like a secret agent at a gala.”

“A what?”

“What? You know what I’m talking about, come on.”

I shake my head. “Please enlighten me.”

“You know, like the women that wear the hot outfits and they’re spying on someone, they go to some fancy gala and have to pretend to blend in.”

“Ah.” I don’t know what else to say to that.

“Maybe that’s what I’m doing with you,” she remarks playfully.

“What?” I grin. “Spying on me?”

“Oh yeah,” she says with a joking face. “I’ve been sending reports back to my people for weeks.”

“Your people?” I chuckle.

“Mmhm.”