My Baby Daddy Isn’t Human

The flames in the hearth had long since burned down to a quiet glow, casting faint orange light across the room's dark wooden walls. Shadows danced slowly along the edges of Elion's study, flickering like whispers from another world. The heavy curtains were drawn, sealing away the dawn that had already crept over the kingdom hours ago.

He hadn't moved from his seat all night.

The large desk before him was cluttered with open books and scattered documents—parchment bearing old vampire treaties, updated security briefings from the outer territories, and a forgotten porcelain cup of blood-tea that had long since gone cold. His hands rested on either side of the desk, palms flat, fingers motionless. He wasn't working anymore.

He was thinking.

Elion's jaw tensed, his expression blank, but his golden eyes were restless. They glowed faintly in the firelight, betraying the turmoil behind them.

She knows.

The thought had echoed in his mind so many times now that it felt stitched into the walls of this room. Into his bones.

Raelynn knew the truth now.

He had told her. The words had finally been spoken—words he had carried like a curse on his tongue. A secret not just for her safety, but because deep down, he'd feared it might shatter what they had.

And yet… she had looked at him with wide, terrified eyes… but she had stayed.

For now.

Elion exhaled slowly and leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking under his weight. His fingers rubbed at his temples as if trying to smooth out the mess inside his head.

It had been necessary. She deserved the truth. No more secrets. No more shadows.

But he wished it hadn't happened like that.

Axel.

Elion's jaw clenched as he recalled the man's face—the panic, the fury, the absolute recklessness. That outsider had taken everything into his own hands. Barged into his home, his territory, and thrown Raelynn into chaos. Into fear.

If Elion hadn't needed to focus on calming her—if her health hadn't been his first and only concern in that moment—

A low growl rumbled in his throat.

Axel would be rotting in a cell by now.

Elion closed his eyes and pushed back the fury simmering beneath his skin. There were more important things to handle. Raelynn. Her heart. Her safety. Her trust.

The room had fallen into a heavier silence when the doorknob turned with a click.

Footsteps entered, confident but quiet, as if whoever approached already knew they were interrupting a storm.

"Did you spend the entire night in here again?"

Elion didn't turn.

Reinhart's voice filled the space like the early wind before a storm—familiar, probing. His younger brother stepped in fully now, dressed in a loose black shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, dark trousers tucked into scuffed boots. His platinum hair was tousled as if he'd just gotten up, but his sharp silver eyes were already alert.

Elion let out a breath, low and slow.

"She knows," he said simply.

Reinhart's brows furrowed as he stepped closer, but he didn't sit. He stood across from the desk, hands sliding into his pockets. "She?"

Elion finally lifted his gaze. The firelight danced in his golden irises. "Raelynn."

Reinhart blinked. "Knows what?"

A beat of silence passed between them.

"About me," Elion said. "About us."

Reinhart's eyes narrowed slightly. "She knows we're not human?"

Elion nodded once.

Reinhart let out a quiet whistle and leaned back slightly on his heels. "Damn. That's early."

"I didn't plan for it," Elion muttered, turning his gaze to the fireplace again. "It wasn't supposed to happen that way. Axel forced it out into the open."

Reinhart's expression twisted at the name. "That man again. I knew he was trouble."

"He is lucky," Elion said darkly, "that I had Raelynn to think of. If not, there would be blood on the marble floors right now."

"I'd say you're losing your edge," Reinhart said with a smirk, then softened. "But no. You made the right call. She needed you more than he deserved punishment."

Elion's fingers flexed slightly against the desk. "She was afraid. I could see it. And yet she didn't run."

"She stayed?"

Elion nodded again, slower this time. "She didn't scream. Just… listened."

"Maybe she's stronger than we all gave her credit for," Reinhart said, folding his arms. "Or maybe she's more like you than you thought."

"I never wanted her to know like this," Elion admitted. "It should've been gentle. Bit by bit. A conversation, not… a battlefield."

Reinhart let out a soft grunt of agreement, then moved to one of the armchairs by the fireplace. He sat heavily, draping one leg over the other and resting an arm along the side.

"Well, she knows now. So… what's next?"

Elion hesitated. He rose from his seat slowly, walking toward the window. He drew back the heavy curtain with one hand and stared out at the gray-blue sky. The first birds of morning flitted past the glass. The light was cold, but clear.

"I don't know," he said. "I gave her the truth. Now I wait to see if she can live with it."

A quiet knock echoed through the heavy door.

Elion didn't turn immediately. He kept his gaze on the slow-moving clouds outside, the calm after the storm of a long night. The knock came again, a bit more gently this time.

"Come in," he said at last.

The door creaked open, and soft footsteps crossed the room. The scent that followed was familiar—faint traces of herbs and chamomile.

"My Lord," Hera said softly, stopping a few paces from where Elion stood.

He turned and nodded once in acknowledgment. Reinhart, still seated in the chair by the fireplace, glanced toward her with a curious lift of his brow.

Elion studied Hera's face. She looked as composed as always, her dark hair tied neatly, her uniform pristine. But there was something in her eyes—a quiet urgency beneath the surface.

"What is it?" Elion asked.

"I just came from Raelynn's chambers," Hera said, clasping her hands in front of her. "We spoke… a little."

That had Elion's full attention. He took a step closer, golden eyes sharp but not unkind. "And?"

"She was calm," Hera replied. "Nervous, of course. But not afraid. Not of me, at least. I tried to encourage her… remind her she isn't alone in this. That she's safe."

Elion let out a quiet breath. "That's good to hear."

Hera nodded slowly. "It is. But…"

"But?" Reinhart echoed, folding his arms.

"She needs more," Hera said gently. "She needs you to talk to her. Not just words. She needs to see it. What this world really is. What you are. Not the dangerous parts, but the truth."

Elion fell silent. He looked down for a moment, his jaw working.

He had expected fear. Distance. Perhaps rejection. But Hera's words made something settle deep in his chest—an awareness he'd tried not to name until now.

He glanced at her. "You think she can handle that?"

"I do," Hera said. "You already broke the barrier. She deserves more than vague reassurances. She deserves to know what she's carrying into. If you want her to stay, you need to help her understand. Let her see."

Elion crossed his arms and exhaled slowly. Hera was right. Of all the people in this castle, Hera would understand Raelynn's fear—and the strength it took to stand in the middle of it. He trusted her, which meant trusting her instincts too.

He looked over at Reinhart, who raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Elion returned his gaze to Hera. "That's the plan… if she's willing. If she's okay being around creatures like us."

Reinhart gave a snort from his chair. "And what if she's not?"

Elion narrowed his eyes slightly. "Then I'll give her space. But I won't—"

"No, that's not what I meant," Reinhart interrupted, pushing to his feet. "What if she says she doesn't want any part of this? No more bloodlines, no more co-parenting, no more supernatural politics. What then? Are you going to just let her walk out the gates?"

Elion's expression darkened, and a flicker of something ancient stirred behind his eyes. "She's carrying my child. I would never let her go off on her own. Not while she's vulnerable."

"Is that the only reason?" Reinhart challenged, stepping closer. "Because of the baby?"

Elion's mouth pressed into a tight line. "Don't twist this into something it's not."

"I'm just asking," Reinhart said coolly. "Because there's a difference between wanting her here to protect your heir… and wanting her. You keep saying it's about her safety, but we both know that's not the whole truth."

Hera looked between them, her face unreadable but her attention sharp.

Elion turned his back to them both and walked toward the fireplace. He braced his hands on the mantel and stared down into the glowing embers. Silence stretched, thick and tense.

"I'm not letting her go," Elion said finally, his voice low. "Not because I want to control her. Not because she's some political pawn or a vessel for legacy. She's…"

He stopped, searching for the words. "She's more than that."