My Baby Daddy Isn’t Human

Moonlight slipped through the partially drawn curtains, casting faint beams across Elion's office. The faint scent of old books and leather hung in the air, thanks to the countless books lining the room. Flames leapt in the fireplace, its light playing tricks on the dark walls.

Elion paced back and forth, holding the book while his face stayed locked in intense thought.

Vampires: 10,001 Facts and Myths.

His long fingers gripped the edges tightly as though the answers he sought might slip through if he didn't hold them fast.

He stopped abruptly near his desk, his jaw tight. Elion opened the book to a marked page, skimming the words fast, his frown deepening with every line.

"Rare bloodlines and ancient monarchies," he muttered under his breath, scanning a passage. "The dormant awakening triggered by—" He didn't finish, snapping the book shut with a sharp sound that echoed in the room. His grip tightened before he flung the book onto the desk, where it landed with a dull thud.

Elion froze, leaning on the desk with one hand while dragging the other through his hair, clearly annoyed.

No matter what he thought about, his mind kept drifting back to Raelynn.

A soft knock at the door broke the silence.

"Elion?" Sloane called softly from the other side of the door.

"Come in," he said, standing a little taller.

Sloane pushed open the door, slipping inside with her usual confidence. Her sharp eyes immediately fell on the book lying on the desk before flicking to Elion's face. "You called?"

Elion nodded, motioning for her to take a seat. "Yes. I wanted to ask about Raelynn's condition." He sounded calm enough, but his fingers tapping on the desk told a different story.

Sloane raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms as she leaned against the side of a chair instead of sitting. "She's improving. Didn't you see her earlier? She was outside walking around."

"That's not what I'm asking," Elion replied. "Do you think she needs to be admitted to a hospital? Is her recovery slower than it should be?" His eyes stayed on her, full of unspoken worry he couldn't hide.

Sloane let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head. "You're overreacting. She's recovering from a fever, not broken ribs or some life-threatening injury. She just needs rest and a bit of time. Hospitals are overkill."

Elion frowned, his gaze drifting toward the fire. "I just want to make sure."

Sloane softened slightly, stepping closer and placing a hand on the desk. "Elion, she's fine. Yes, she was weak before, but you saw her today. She was smiling, joking even. You don't need to hover over her like some worried mother hen."

He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Maybe you're right."

"Of course, I'm right," Sloane said with a smirk, leaning back again. "I've been looking after people like her for years. I know the signs to worry about, and she's past the worst of it. Okay, but seriously," she gestured toward the book, "why'd you let Axel hand this off to your bride?

Elion tensed at the mention of the name, a hint of irritation flashing across his face before he masked it with calm. "I don't know."

She laughed, shaking her head. "Seriously? How don't you know? What were you even doing?"

"It wasn't intentional," Elion said defensively, though the words felt hollow even to him. He placed the book down slowly, avoiding Sloane's all-too-knowing look.

"Oh, come on, Elion," Sloane said, crossing her arms and tilting her head. "You know it as well as I do. Axel's trouble. And you—" she pointed a finger at him, her eyes gleaming with amusement—"are letting it get to you."

Elion didn't respond, his jaw tightening as he stared at the book.

Sloane took a step closer, her voice soft and teasing. "Admit it—you're totally jealous.

At that, Elion's head snapped up, his eyes narrowing. "I'm not."

"You are," Sloane said, her grin widening. "You're jealous that Raelynn's been spending time with Axel. And do you know what that means?"

Elion didn't answer, but the way his hands curled into fists spoke volumes.

What I'm saying is," she went on, her voice calmer now, "you care about her. More than you're willing to admit."

Elion's lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes flicking back to the book as if it could offer an escape from the conversation.

"It's because she's carrying my child. That's all there is to it."

Sloane let out a frustrated groan, tilting her head back in annoyance. "Oh, for heaven's sake, Elion! Can you stop hiding behind that excuse? You think I'd buy that reason at this point?"

She leaned forward, her piercing gaze fixed on him. "Do you even believe yourself when you say that? Because I sure as hell don't."

Elion didn't respond, his jaw tightening as his eyes shifted away from her. Instead of meeting Sloane's pointed stare, he looked toward the window.

Sloane stepped closer, her expression losing some of its playfulness. "Elion, it's okay to admit it. Anyone with eyes can see it. That you lo—"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he interrupted Sloane, stopping Sloane before she could finish. For a while, all that could be heard was the soft pop of the firewood.

A slow breath escaped him, his shoulders lifting and falling as his gaze grew distant.

"I know this isn't easy, I know that. It never is," Sloane replied gently. "Especially with everything going on. But you can't keep running from it. Or from her."

He didn't say a word, staring at the flames instead. The silence dragged on, filled with tension and words they couldn't say. Finally, Sloane sighed and turned toward the door.

"Think about it," she said over her shoulder, her tone light but meaningful. "And don't let Axel win, hmm?"

With that, she left, the door clicking softly shut behind her. Elion remained where he was, the firelight casting long shadows across his face. He reached for the book again, opening it to the same page he'd been studying earlier.

But his thoughts weren't on the text. They were on Raelynn—her laughter, her defiance, her fragility, and the strange pull she had on him.

For the first time in his life, Elion felt something he couldn't quite name, something that both terrified and intrigued him.