Why You Should Never Rescue Stray Demons Chapter 184

**KACIA**

I once compared Oz’s tail to a cat’s tail, expressive, impossible to hide, practically narrating his emotions whether he likes it or not. But Roth? Roth IS a cat. Not just because of the tail. Because of everything. He and Oz might look alike, same sharp cheekbones, same dark hair, same tells when they’re annoyed, but their personalities aren’t even in the same galaxy. Oz is straightforward. Open. Warm in that instant, effortless way that makes people feel like they’ve known him for years. He loves what he loves and everyone knows it, zero hesitation, zero apology. He enters rooms like golden light and sunshine and has absolutely no concept of embarrassment. Golden retriever energy. Happy, loyal, unshakeable. Roth… Is something entirely different. He’s cautious. Hyperaware. Like a cat inching forward with one tentative paw, poking at the world to check if it bites. Every movement he makes is a negotiation. Every word is chosen with the precision of someone who learned early that vulnerability is dangerous. I can’t help but think, beneath the claws, and the sarcasm, and the prickly posture, he’s probably as loving as Oz. Maybe even more. The quiet, intentional kind of love. But he shows it the way cats do. Begrudgingly, accidentally, with a scowl. He’ll follow someone around the house ‘by coincidence,’ curl up beside them ‘because he happened to be there,’ and then hiss and swat if they call him out on it. The kind of creature that will bite your hand for petting him wrong, but sleep on your chest when he thinks you’re sad. And right now? That exact creature is sitting in my living room, wrapped up in protective rage and worry, claws out, tail puffed, doing everything he can to hide the fact that he’s terrified for his brother. Because the truth is… He DOES have a point. He doesn’t know me. At all. He’s only seen me for a few minutes, exhausted, overwhelmed, eyes averted to avoid triggering him, looking very much like a stranger who somehow turned his world upside down. And Oz and I did bond very fast. Dangerously fast. One day he was an inconvenient demon crashing on my couch, and the next he was, well. Everything. And while he was here with me, healing, panicking, laughing, nearly dying, nearly kissing, ACTUALLY kissing… All that time his family had no idea where he was or whether he was safe. For all they knew he could have been injured, kidnapped, dead. It wasn’t his fault, but that fear doesn’t go away just because there’s a tidy explanation for it all now. Of COURSE Roth is suspicious. Of COURSE he’s defensive. Alyssa trusted me immediately, she’s warm, intuitive, quick to believe the best of people. Once Oz said I was safe, she embraced it wholeheartedly. But Roth is not Alyssa. He is one of those people who won’t accept anything second hand. He needs to see it, feel it, test it with his own claws before he decides someone is safe. He’s not being cruel. He’s afraid. He’s using logic to justify the fear he doesn’t want to acknowledge. And sometimes the best way to stop a person like that, someone who’s curled up in their own defensive posture like they’re waiting to be kicked, isn’t to argue. It’s to gently, calmly, and without making a big fuss… Agree with the part of what they’re saying, or rather FEELING, that’s true. To disarm them not with force, but with understanding. Because nothing stops a person mid-argument faster than hearing, ‘You’re not wrong.’

I say it calmly, too calmly, apparently, because Oz immediately looks like I’ve just told him gravity is optional.

“WHAT?!” He shouts, eyes wide in disbelief. And then, because apparently some personality traits are genetic, Roth blurts out the exact same word in perfect synchronization. It takes every ounce of self-control I possess not to burst into laughter. I REALLY wish I could look Roth in the face right now, his tone suggests his expression is somewhere between scandalised cat and short-circuiting toaster. I briefly consider asking if I can bind his nightmare magic for a few minutes so I can look him in the eyes and appreciate this fully, but taking away his best defense mechanism while he’s already stressed seems… Unwise. So patience it is. Oz is the first to recover, barely. 

“What do you mean he has a point?! Of course he has no reason to be worried!” Oz sputters. 

“Yes, I do!” Roth fires back instantly.

“No, you don’t!” Oz snaps.

“YES!” Roth argues.

“NO!” Oz bickers. 

“YES!” Roth and I shout at the same time. Then… Silence. Oz freezes. Processes. Then tries again, significantly less confident.

“…Ho?” He attempts. I narrow my eyes.

“Oh REALLY? Let’s imagine Alyssa vanished for a month, then came back a total mess, rambling about some stranger, and suddenly announced she had a new boyfriend. How would you feel?” I ask. Oz’s face does something spectacular, horror, betrayal, and full-body panic all at once.

“Absolutely NOT!” He yelps. 

“I would NEVER let her be missing that long. I would’ve tracked her down!” He insists. I roll my eyes. 

“But say you couldn’t.” I prompt. Oz deflates with a groan.

“Fine. I would be… Distrustful of the guy, to say the least.” He admits. 

“Exactly! “So Roth’s concerns are completely valid. He doesn’t know me. You can’t expect him to love me just because you do.” I say. 

“But-” Oz starts. I raise one eyebrow. He stops. Sighs. Slumps.

“…Okay maybe.” He mutters like it physically hurts him. I beam at this small but critically important victory.

“See Roth? He CAN be reasoned with. He’s just getting carried away with his emotions a little. You are being perfectly reasonable.” I assure him. There’s a beat of stunned silence as Roth processes the fact that not only did I not bite him, but I just casually included him like we’re normal people in a normal living room having a normal conversation. Because we ARE. And right then, right in that moment, he realises he and I are on the same side. A united front. Against Oz. Who is still sitting there looking deeply, profoundly confused.

“Right. Exactly.” I turn to Roth, still keeping my eyes lowered. 

“So! Why don’t we start over? If you have concerns or questions about me, I’m happy to answer them. Within reason, of course.” I add. There’s a long pause. I can practically hear his brain clicking and rebooting.

“I…” He hesitates. 

“I don’t actually know what to ask.” He says awkwardly. This time I can’t hold back the laugh. It bursts out of me, warm and genuine, cutting straight through the tension.

“That’s okay.” I say brightly. 

“In that case, I’ll ask questions about you. Starting with… What do you like to drink?”

About three hours later, the three of us have polished off a pot of tea and an entire bottle of fae wine that Raylah gifted me a couple of weeks ago. The outcome? Roth and I are absolutely tipsy. Oz is smugly sober. Either he’s being mature and responsible… Or, more likely, he just has a ridiculously high alcohol tolerance. Showoff. I’m learning that fae wine makes me emotional. Everything is warm and soft and slightly floaty. It also dulled my magic a little, not gone, just muted. I guess that’s a built-in safety feature. Raylah said as much when she gave it to me. ‘Your life seems stressful. I thought you might need this. Also, please don’t drink human alcohol, you’ll cause problems.’ Was her explanation. It was thoughtful. A different kind of thoughtful to how Tarish is. He is definitely super considerate, but Raylah has a practical, realistic view of things that balances out his idealism. Honestly… Those two? As much as he denies it, they’re weirdly well-suited. She grounds him. He loosens her up. I look forward to seeing her crusade to win his heart. But that’s not today’s problem. Nope, what’s important right now is that drunk Roth is… Actually really fun? He’s brash, silly, dramatic, and apparently loves teasing Oz even more when he’s tipsy. At some point he even teases me, carefully, tentatively, like he’s checking if I’ll hiss at him. I tease him back, and he makes a noise suspiciously like a startled chirp. But eventually even his energy starts to fade, his eyes drooping, his tail curling around him like a sleepy cat settling in a sunbeam. I’m grateful, honestly, I’m exhausted. My limbs feel like they’re filled with warm clay. Roth slumps sideways on the couch in a puddle of blankets. Oz fetches more from the linen cupboard and drapes them over him gently. 

“We can take him home tomorrow.” He decides, smoothing a corner of the blanket over Roth’s shoulder. He tries to sound unimpressed, but his expression is full of that soft, protective big-brother affection. I yawn so hard my eyes water. 

“Fine by me. I’m done. Bed. Now.” I mumble. I shuffle two steps down the hallway, dragging my feet… And then I’m suddenly airborne.

“Oz!” I squeak, half-giggling, half-scolding as he scoops me up like I weigh nothing. He grins down at me, smug and fond and maybe a little too pleased with himself. 

“This is faster.” He says innocently. 

“Plus, if my brother wakes up and sees this, he will be horrified, which only makes it better.” He adds with a smirk. I snort, absolutely losing the last shred of my dignity. 

“You’re terrible.” I accuse. 

“Accurate.” He agrees cheerfully, carrying me toward the bedroom without even a wobble. I rest my head against his shoulder, warmth flooding through me, the wine, the magic, the exhaustion, the affection all blurring into a soft, hazy glow. I think… I think I’m really looking forward to getting to know Oz’s family a lot more. Even the impossible, prickly, unexpectedly lovable ones.