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Summary
Daemon knew life, he had lived one for thousands of years.
Daemon knew death, he was created to preside over it.
And he knew nothing was closer to the precipice of either than a newborn, be it of the vampire or human variety.
They were always so sweet. So helpless. So fascinating.
She was fascinating.
Enough so that he felt compelled to care for her. He may not be her sire, but he was confident he knew what was best for her.
.
.
“Don't fight what you need little one, you Are a newborn with little need for a mother's breast but endless hunger for your father's cock. There is no shame between us hm? I shall deprive you no longer.”