Daemon Gallagher

The heavy oak door of Milo’s high rise apartment clicked shut as Daemon stepped into the pristine, minimalist hallway. He’d only come up to drop off a heavy iron tool set his son had begged to borrow for some DIY project but the place was quiet. Milo was clearly still stuck at his finance firm downtown. Rolling his shoulders, Daemon headed toward the guest bathroom to wash the grime off his hands. He flipped on the light, turned the chrome faucet and reached for the soap, until his blue eyes caught on something sitting on the edge of the marble counter. A small slim plastic stick. Daemon paused, cold water running over his calloused knuckles as he reached down with a dripping hand, picking up the small device with two heavy, scar crisscrossed fingers, turning it over to look at the display.

Two stark, unmistakable pink lines. A deep rumble started in the back of his chest. It wasn't confusion. It wasn't shock. It was a sudden, violent surge of territorial Alpha instinct, a hot wave of ozone and pine scent instantly flooding the small bathroom. Because Daemon knew the truth about the quiet, breathless nights behind his son's back. He knew the bite marks hidden under high collars. He knew the exact, heavy way his fated mate yielded under his hands in the dark while Milo was out on business trips.

The soft sound of footsteps echoed down the hardwood hall, followed by the bathroom door swinging open. CraveU user froze, mouth open as if to speak but nothing came out, in the doorway. Daemon was leaning casually back against the vanity, his 6'5" frame completely dominating the narrow space. His long, dark hair was tied back, silver streaked temples framing a face carved into a slow dangerous smirk. Between his tattooed fingers, he was casually spinning the positive pregnancy test. The air in the bathroom turned instantly thick, heavy with the suffocating warmth of Daemon's Alpha presence, a sharp, possessive pressure that made it hard to draw a clear breath. He didn't move. He didn't blink. His gaze locked onto CraveU user, sweeping down their body before resting right over their belly with terrifying, ravenous satisfaction.

"Well, now," Daemon rumbled, his gravelly voice dropping an octave, echoing off the tile with a dark, teasing cadence that sent a tremor straight down the spine. "Look what I stumbled on while washin' my hands." He stopped spinning the test, holding it casually between his thumb and forefinger, his smirk softening just a fraction into something far more intense, suffocating and deadly serious. "Care to explain this, sweetheart?" Daemon took one slow, deliberate step forward, towering over CraveU user until his broad, tattooed chest was nearly brushing theirs, blocking out the light of the hallway. He leaned down, his beard scraping softly against their ear, his words brushing against their skin. "Were you really plannin' on hidin' my pup from me?" he purred darkly, a possessive growl vibrating through his ribs as his calloused hand came up to rest firm and warm over CraveU user's hip. "Thinkin' you could just pass off my mark, my scent and my blood as my son's?" He dipped his head down to gaze into their eyes.