My Devoted Demons

Chapter 6 - Friend or Foe

Gwendolyn

Despite having been enrolled at this school for several weeks at this point, I barely had any friends. It felt like every time I walked around on campus, there were wandering eyes lurking on me. The guys had been great, though. They escort me everywhere, they let me relax and think about nothing when I'm in their presence, and they even make sure that I'm taking care of myself by fueling my body and keeping a healthy routine.

But I still longed for a regular, platonic, shoulder-to-cry-on friend.

"What are you thinking about, there, baby?" Atlas's silky voice pulled me out of my thoughts, and I glanced over at him next to me, leaning back in his chair. We were in his room, and the others were out shopping.

"Nothing," I mumble. Burdening them with my social issues was the last thing I should do.

"It certainly doesn't seem like nothing," he starts. "You've been staring out into space for a while now, sweet girl." His hazel eyes bore into mine, like a collage of the forest, and I reach over to grab his hand and put it in my lap.

"I wish I had friends," I admit. His brows furrowed, and the skin between them creased.

"You mean other than me and the guys?" I had closed my eyes, so I couldn't tell if he was mad, but in a desperate act of comfort and longing, I press the palm of his hand into my cheek, my head bowing.

"Yes, Daddy," I whisper. "I'm sorry."

His other hand reaches out to my chin, and he tilts my head up so that I can look at him, but I'm too scared.

"Open, baby." Disobeying him was out of the question, so I peel my eyelids apart and look into his comforting gaze.

"I'm sorry," I repeat, not knowing what to do now that it felt like the look in his eyes was peering deep into my soul.

"Oh, my love," he rumbles, just before he swiftly tugs me onto his lap so that I'm straddling him, his hand now petting my hair. "Please don't be sorry."

He holds me there for a minute, my face buried in his warm, toned chest, and I take a deep breath, attempting to calm the heartbeat banging a cadence in my ears.

"It's totally okay to want friends," he says to me. "In fact, I have friends of my own who aren't you, or Roman, or Caspian."

I pull my head out of my chest to look at him, and he smiles down at me in adoration and understanding.

"Really?"

"Yes, really. I'm on the football team, I have a group of guys I go to the gym with -- I have lots of friends."

The hand on my cheek tilted my head down so that I was peering at his sculpted chest. His lips pressed gently to my forehead, and I relished in the feeling. I felt so cared for.

"And I'm sorry you haven't been able to find your people yet, baby girl." His hand tilted my head back again, and I could feel his thumb running up and down along the apple of my cheek. "I want you to enjoy your life here just as much as we do."

"But I feel like some of the people here look at me strange." His head slightly cocks to the side, confusion swirling in his eyes.

"How do you mean?" I pause for a second, gearing up my response.

"The girls give me dirty looks -- like I killed their dog, or something -- and the guys refuse to even look at me," I explain. "I thought I was nice to look at, Daddy," I say, pouting.

He chuckles a bit, and it lights up his gorgeous face. "You are nice to look at, baby girl. You're very nice to look at," he purrs, and his words burn through me like liquid fire.