Why You Should Never Rescue Stray Demons Chapter 125

**OZ**

Dinner is… Nice. Peaceful, even. Which feels like a miracle, considering everything that’s happened today. We’re both pretending not to notice the elephant in the room, that the entire setup is a terrible idea. Candles, wine, the faintest brush of something romantic in the air… It’s everything I shouldn’t be offering her. But for an hour, we let it be. I swear I’ve never eaten this slowly in my life, stretching out every bite like if I just pace myself enough, the evening won’t have to end. She doesn’t call me on it, though. Maybe she’s doing the same. We talk. About her magic, how she is working on getting her focus stronger, how she can sense threads of the magic more clearly now. About the tasks Tarish gave her, the small victories and the things still tripping her up. And eventually, her thoughts drift to him. I ask what she thinks of him and his sudden investment in her life.

“Hmm. I think… I’m happy about it.” She says at last, chewing her lip in thought. 

“It’s a little strange. I don’t quite know how to act around him yet. But I feel… Fairly comfortable. And I believe that he cared about my father. That he’s sincere in his desire to support me.” She decides. I nod, pleased by the conviction in her tone. 

“Yes. I got that impression too.” I agree. The conversation flows, soft and steady, until the plates are bare and there’s nothing left to distract us from the truth that time is moving forward, whether I want it to or not. Eventually, I can’t avoid it anymore. With a reluctant sigh, I push back from the table and gather the dishes. The clink of porcelain feels like an ending I don’t want.

“Let me.” Kacia says, already reaching. I frown, shaking my head. 

“No, I’ve got it.” I insist. She doesn’t listen. Of course she doesn’t. She plucks the plate right out of my hand, her expression brooking no argument.

“Nope. You cooked, so I’ll clean up.” She says it firmly, brushing past me with the easy confidence of someone who knows she’ll get her way.

“But-” I start.

“I said no, Oz.” She cuts me off. Her voice is sharp, but her eyes soften as they meet mine. 

“You should get ready to go out. I want to head down to the library. This won’t take me long.” She says sweetly. I sigh, ready to give up and do as she asks. I turn to leave, but her hand on my arm halts me. There’s hesitation in her touch, something unspoken crackling in the air.

“Wait a moment…” She murmurs, almost shyly.

“Yeah?” My voice comes out lower than I intend. She swallows, eyes flicking to my mouth before darting back up. 

“Oz… This meal was… Perfect. I’m just going to… End it right. Sorry in advance.” She says. And before I can blink, before I can talk myself out of it or remind her of all the reasons this is wrong, she tugs me down by the front of my shirt. My body obeys without hesitation, bending toward her. Kacia’s lips press against mine, soft at first, so soft I almost convince myself I imagined it. My eyes flutter shut and for a heartbeat I don’t move, terrified of shattering the moment. Her mouth is warm, hesitant, lingering like she’s not sure if I’ll pull away. Carefully, cautiously, I kiss her back. Just the barest tilt of my head, the gentlest pressure, enough to let her know I’m here, that I want this too, but not enough to frighten her or myself with the force of it. My hands hover at my sides, itching to reach for her, to hold her the way I’ve wanted to for far too long, but I keep them still. This is hers to give, hers to control. Her breath brushes against me, quick and uneven, and when she leans in just a fraction more, my chest tightens until it almost hurts. This kiss is a promise, but it’s one we both know I can’t really give. It’s over too soon. She pulls back, her lashes low, her fingers still caught in the fabric of my shirt as though reluctant to let go. I open my eyes, half afraid of what I’ll see in hers. And all I can think is that if this is the last kiss she ever gives me, hesitant, cautious, unbearably sweet, it might undo me more thoroughly than any spell ever could. The kiss ends, but the echo of it lingers, a warmth pressed into my skin, into my chest. Kacia clears her throat softly, slipping her hand from my shirt, and the air between us shifts. Fragile. Precious. Like glass balancing on the edge of a table, one wrong move and everything will shatter into a thousand pieces.

A little while later, we’re in her car. She’s at the wheel, her hands steady, her gaze on the road, but I can see the faintest pink still coloring her cheeks. I sit in the passenger seat, staring out at the city rolling by in the dark, trying not to smile too much, trying not to stare at her like some hopeless idiot. The quiet fills the space between us, but it isn’t heavy or strained. It’s warm. Comfortable. The kind of silence that feels like a blanket instead of a cage. Every so often, I catch her sneaking a glance at me. Quick little flicks of her eyes before she looks back at the street ahead. The corners of her mouth twitch upward, and I can’t stop myself from returning it, small, private smiles passed back and forth in the dim glow of the dashboard lights. Like we’re sharing a secret neither of us dares to say aloud. I SHOULD ask why we’re driving to the library at this hour. I have no idea what errand is pulling her there, but there is no sense of urgency tugging at me. So I don’t ask. I don’t want to. Words feel dangerous right now. One wrong sentence and this moment, the tentative peace we’ve built, could unravel completely. So I sit back. I let the silence stretch, comfortable as a blanket. I let myself admire the soft curve of her profile lit by the glow of the street lights, the way her hair shifts when the breeze from the cracked window brushes against her cheek. I let myself believe, for just a little longer, that this calm could last. But it doesn’t. It can’t. The car slows, pulling into the small parking lot by the library. The tall, shadowed building rises ahead, its windows glowing faintly with light, and reality presses in again. My chest tightens. The sweetness of the drive, the fragile thread of peace, we’re about to step out of it. Inside those doors, everything will be sharp again. Serious. Complicated. I draw in a breath, steadying myself. Preparing to let the moment go, to slip back into the rhythm of whatever comes next. Because if there’s one thing I know for certain, it’s that sweet moments like this shouldn’t happen. I can’t let it happen again. 

The drive was soft, warm silence, but as I expected, the moment we step through the library doors, reality sharpens again. The familiar smell of ink, dust, and magic clings to the air. And Clarence is there, of course. He always seems to be here, robes rustling, cane tapping like he’s been waiting for us. His white brows rise, his sharp eyes darting between us.

“Well, what brings the pair of you skulking in at this hour?” He asks, his voice full of dry amusement, though the weight in his gaze lands heavy on me. Kacia steps forward before I can answer. Her voice is steady, determined. 

“Could you get together anyone who’s free? Vidar, Tracey, whoever’s around. I’m here to research a way around Oz’s nightmare effect magic.” She says without hesitation. The words hit me like a fist to the chest. For a heartbeat, I can’t breathe. She isn’t here for her fae inheritance. Not for safety, or strategy, or answers about her enemies. She’s here for me. For us. I stare at her, stunned, as Clarence strokes his beard with something almost like interest, already muttering about which tomes to fetch. But all I can think, all I can feel, is the echo of her declaration. That she’s fighting for this, and for the first time, I wonder if maybe, just maybe, I’ve been wrong to think it impossible