Why You Should Never Rescue Stray Demons Chapter 110

**KACIA**

I wake late, so late that it might not even be morning anymore. Judging by the heavy light streaming through my curtains, it’s probably well into the afternoon. My body aches, my stomach feels hollow, but I’m safe. Warm and wrapped in Oz’s arms. For a long moment, I just lie there, sinking into it. The weight of him behind me, solid and steady. His slow, even breathing brushing the back of my neck. It’s too easy to imagine that this is normal, that this is ours. Then last night creeps back in, and I wince. There was something mortifying about Oz cleaning up my vomit. But… Endearing too. He didn’t complain, didn’t sneer, didn’t make a big deal of it, just got down on the floor and dealt with it like it was nothing. How many people would do that? How many people have I met who would do that? I can’t imagine many. I can’t imagine anyone but him… We should probably get up. We both need showers. I need food. The world outside these blankets hasn’t stopped spinning just because I want it to. But damn it, I don’t want to move. Not yet. Which is why it is just so incredibly disappointing when I feel him stir. His body shifts faintly against mine, the steady rhythm of his breath breaking. No. Not yet! A minute later, his eyes flicker open. He looks over at me, still half asleep, and gives me a smile. Soft, sweet and completely unguarded. It’s the kind of smile that makes my chest ache. It lasts all of five seconds before his mind catches up. His expression falters. His body stiffens. And then he starts to sit up, forcing me to do the same, untangling me from his arms like the moment never happened. Damn it. I glance down at myself and grimace. I’m a disaster. I somehow fell asleep in the black dress Raylah shoved me into. I think I stole it, technically, though it’s not like she gave me a choice. Oz is still in his party clothes too. We must have both been completely wrecked to collapse like that without even changing. Between my dress, his rumpled shirt, and the sour memory of last night’s portal sickness, there’s no denying it, both of us need showers. And I definitely need to strip the bed and wash everything. I rub at my temples. Honestly, I think I was more messed up from the portal than I wanted to admit. I still feel kind of crappy. Hopefully it’s the kind of feeling that goes away once I’m up and moving a bit more. A glance at my phone on the nightstand (oddly charged, which is suspicious in itself, I must have ignored it long enough that the universe took pity on me) tells me it’s just after one pm. A new notification flashes.

Mikey- Dropped by. You didn’t answer. I’ll catch you later.

Oops. I’ll have to tell him about everything that happened later then. The first order of business is showers. We don’t even discuss it, we just take turns. Mine feels like absolute heaven. Hot water, clean skin, citrus shampoo washing away the sick smell that is definitely clinging to me. How did Oz put up with that all night? By the time I’m in jeans and a hoodie, I feel almost like myself again. Oz comes out a little later in fresh clothes, his hair damp and slicked back, his tail swaying lazily behind him. It’s unfair how good he looks without even trying. I try not to stare. I fail.  I don’t think Oz could look more attractive if he tried. He disappears into the kitchen, and soon the smell of eggs and toast fills the air. I follow him and find Oz cooking breakfast. I take it back. Apparently he can. I feel like I should be recording this somehow and using it as an explanation any time anyone asks me why I’m crushing so hard on the guy. Like, who wouldn’t?  My stomach growls so loudly he glances over with a smirk, and I throw him a look. 

“What? You like me starving so you can swoop in and play the hero?” I tease. 

“If the shoe fits.” He mutters, clearly enjoying himself. Seems like he’s in a good mood this morn- I mean, this afternoon. When he sets plates down, I grin up at him. 

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were auditioning for the role of future husband. Making me brunch, cleaning up after me, taking care of me last night… What’s next, are you going to bring me flowers?” I say jokingly. Oz freezes halfway into his seat. His fork clatters against the plate. His eyes snap to mine, narrowed, but his ears flush pink. 

“Kaci…” He growls, his voice a low warning that I enjoy entirely too much. Sure, part of me feels bad, I should be thanking him, not teasing him. But the words keep tumbling out. I laugh, biting into my toast. 

“What? I’m just saying you’re setting a pretty high standard. Anyone else who tries for the job is going to have a hell of a time keeping up with you.” I continue. Oz groans, dragging a hand down his face. 

“Eat your food before I regret cooking for you.” He grumbles, but I think I see a hint of smugness. I smirk, utterly pleased with myself. 

“So that’s not a no?” I prod his arm. His glare could melt steel, but the way his jaw tightens just makes me grin wider. Victory! 

We eat in silence for a few minutes, though I catch Oz sneaking glances at me like he’s trying to decide whether strangling me is worth it. I hum softly, enjoying myself.

“So…” I say after another bite. 

“What do you think? Did last night go well?” I ask. Oz snorts. 

“We survived without anyone trying to stab you or me. That’s my definition of well.” He declares. 

“Low standards.” I tease, leaning on my hand. 

“I’d say it went well because I got to spend most of the night glued to your side… A definite bonus, don’t you think?” I comment casually. Oz stabs at his eggs like they’ve offended him. 

“That wasn’t the point.” Oz answers flatly. 

“Wasn’t it?” I ask, tilting my head. 

“You WERE pretty clingy. Not that I minded.” I add. His jaw works, and I grin, sipping from my water. 

“Admit it, you enjoyed having me on your arm for the night.” I say, not really expecting a response. As expected, he doesn’t answer, which is as good as a yes. I let him stew before leaning back in my chair. 

“I guess I proved I could hold my own, at least a little.” I add, a little more seriously. 

“You did more than that.” His tone is steady, serious. 

“You were charming, sweet and clever. You didn’t let anyone walk over you. You impressed them. Even Raylah.” Oz says sincerely. Warmth floods my chest, though I keep my face composed. 

“So what you’re saying is, I impressed you.” I clarify. Weirdly, knowing Oz thinks that I did well means so much more than all the opinions of the fae I met last night. He shoots me a look sharp enough to cut stone. His ears, however, are pink again. I grin into my toast. 

“I’ll take it.” I announce. We lapse into quieter eating for a bit before I sigh, pushing my plate back. 

“But seriously, what now? We don’t have a way to contact Raylah. Or anyone. We don’t even know if we WANT to go back. And if we did, we can’t unless someone helps us.” I point out. His frown deepens. 

“Exactly. We have no way back and no plan.” He says, clearly frustrated. I groan dramatically, letting my head fall onto my folded arms. 

“So basically we survived hours of fae politics just to come home empty handed. Unless you count getting you to share a bed with me, which I think counts as a win.” I tease.

“Kaci.” Oz warns again, but the sound comes out more weary than angry. I grin against my arm. 

“Still not a no.” I comment. He exhales hard through his nose, muttering something under his breath I can’t quite catch. But he doesn’t deny it. So yes, we’re stumped. No way forward, no answers, no plan. Just brunch, sunlight that is giving me a headache, and far too many questions. But teasing Oz makes the uncertainty a whole lot easier to swallow.

“We’re doomed.” I announce dramatically. Oz huffs. 

“You’re not doomed. You’re just impatient.” He says.

“Impatient?” I lift my head to glare at him. 

“Excuse me, we went through hours of fae scheming last night, got dumped back into my room like luggage, and now we’re sitting here like ‘Oh well. Guess that’s that.’ I think I’ve earned some impatience!” I insist. He shrugs, spearing another bite of egg. 

“We’ll figure something out.” He says with a confidence I don’t feel. I squint at him. 

“Oh really? Got any brilliant ideas hiding under that pretty hair of yours?” I ask. He gives me a flat look. 

“Don’t start.” He says, apparently catching on to my silly mood. But it’s too late. My grin spreads. 

“Okay, hear me out, we put out an ad. ‘Wanted- mysterious fae lady with bad sense of timing, answers to Raylah. Please portal us at your earliest convenience.’” I say. Oz groans, dragging his hand down his face.

“Or…” I prop my chin on my hand, eyes wide and innocent. 

“We barge into a magic shop and ask if anyone sells ‘Fae Summoning Kits.’ or a Buy-one-get-one-free-portal.” I joke. 

“Kaci.” He says flatly. I ignore him, warming up now. 

“Oh, hold up. I have a better idea, we hold a party of our own. Invite all the fae, bribe them with cake, and see if Raylah shows up to crash it.” I declare, watching Oz closely for his reaction. His fork pauses halfway to his mouth. His lips twitch.

“Don’t you dare smile. If you smile, you’re admitting it’s a good plan.” I warn gleefully. 

“It’s not a good plan.” He mutters, though his mouth betrays him with the faintest curve. I gasp dramatically. 

“That was almost a smile. Admit it. You’d love to help me run a fae party with paper streamers and party pies.” I say, grinning. 

“I’d rather gouge my own eyes out.” But there’s real amusement in his voice now, the tension bleeding out of his shoulders. I grin, satisfied. 

“So that’s a maybe then.” I decide. He sighs, setting his fork down. 

“You’re impossible.” He says bluntly. 

“And yet you’re still here humouring me.” I shoot back, leaning across the table with a smirk. 

“Future husband material and potential party planner. You’re just full of surprises.” I add. He groans again, but this time I catch the faintest trace of a laugh in it.

I’m still smirking at Oz’s groan when a ripple of energy prickles the back of my neck. Before I can so much as blink, the air warps, folds in on itself, and then Raylah is standing in the middle of my kitchen. But not the glittering, perfect Raylah from last night’s party. No gown, no jewels, no glamorous hair. She’s in soft trousers and a loose tunic, her hair swept into an effortless braid over one shoulder. Comfortable. Casual. And somehow, still breathtaking damn her. She surveys us with a mischievous gleam in her eyes, then spreads her arms. 

“Oh, now that’s more like it.” She comments. Before either of us can react, she slides gracefully into a chair at the table, plucks a piece of toast off my plate, and takes a bite like she’s been invited.

“Much better than dealing with the endless letters I've gotten about last night.” She says through a mouthful of my breakfast. She reaches over and nicks a slice of egg from Oz’s plate too, utterly shameless. Oz stares at her like he’s debating whether to strangle her. I just blink, my fork frozen halfway to my mouth. Raylah smirks, stealing another bite. 

“Don’t mind me. Carry on.”