Why You Should Never Rescue Stray Demons Chapter 56

**KACIA**

I’m torn. On one hand, there’s something undeniably nice about having Oz fussing over me like this. His hands are trembling as he carries me, his jaw tight with worry, his eyes dark and fierce and flicking down to check my face every few steps. At least I know he doesn’t hate me. At least I know he still cares.

On the other hand… Ugh. This whole situation feels like something out of a bad action romance movie, the kind with cheesy orchestral swells and dramatic lighting, and I kind of want to gag. How the hell did I end up cast as the helpless damsel in distress again?

Seriously, I’ve gone my entire life without nearly dying, and now I’ve nearly died twice in one damn week. At this rate, I’m going to need a loyalty punch card for near death experiences. Fifth one’s free, I guess.

No. I can’t let this become a pattern. I need to step up my game. Okay, maybe not step up, because that implies being reckless again. I need to be smarter. Stronger. I’ve been on the right track with being bolder, yes, but also… Not an idiot about it. There’s a difference between living boldly and living carelessly, and right now, it feels like I’ve been teetering into careless territory.

But it would definitely be easier if I had someone watching my back.

My eyes flick up to Oz’s face as he carries me. Is he still willing to volunteer? It kind of seems like he is. His expression is set in stone, fierce and protective. He’s back in his glamour but his horns flickering in and out of sight so I don’t think he’s totally in control of it. Hopefully none of the humans notice them.

Still, he looks terrifying. He looks magnificent. And right now, he looks completely terrified for me.

My chest aches, but not from my injuries. Despite everything that happened between us, despite the betrayal and the hurt… At this moment, I feel safer in his arms than I ever have anywhere else.

My focus fades for a second as my eyelids droop. I’m so tired. So bone deep, soul deep tired. The pain is distant now, dulled by exhaustion and adrenaline wearing off. Maybe I’ll just… Nap for a little bit. Then I’ll feel better, and I can scold Oz later for carrying me around like I’m about to die and making such a scene.

My eyes slip shut.

But then there’s a sudden jolt as his arms tighten painfully around me.

“Don’t you dare, Kacia Hunter.” He growls, his voice low and vibrating against my chest where my head rests.

“You keep those eyes open.” He demands.

What the hell? Did he just… Full name me? My brain struggles through the fog to process it. Oz never calls me by my name if he can help it. Usually it’s ‘princess’ or ‘my vision’ or some other teasing nickname. And now he’s gone full name on me? That can’t be good.

With immense effort, I force my eyes open. The world swims back into focus, blurry and too bright and too dark all at once. His face hovers above mine, eyes black as night and burning with an emotion I can’t quite name. Relief, rage, fear, desperation, all tangled together. I want to reach out and tell him to calm down, but it seems too hard somehow.

“Good girl.” He breathes, the words escaping before he can catch them. His voice is rough and broken. He shifts me higher against his chest, cradling my head like I’m something fragile. It takes more effort than it should to keep my eyes open. That’s… Probably not a good sign, huh. But I manage a tiny, tired smile anyway. Because if he’s going to worry about me this much, the least I can do is stay awake for him.

The next few hours are a strange, chaotic blur. People keep coming in and out, voices rising and falling like waves crashing against my skull. Everyone is talking around me, about me, and it’s honestly starting to freak me out.

No one was this panicked when I was paralysed by the basilisk venom. So does that mean… This is worse? Am I dying? I mean, I don’t feel great, but I didn’t think I was dying bad.

Someone’s hand brushes my forehead, cool and gentle, and I realise Oz hasn’t left my side. Every time I manage to focus, he’s there, looming with worry in his dark eyes, flinching every time I wince in pain. It almost makes me want to smile. Almost.

And then Clarence turns up. That’s how I know it’s really bad. Because it’s still daylight out, and Clarence NEVER comes into the library during the day if he can help it. The sunlight glints off his silver hair as he sweeps into the room, robes rustling, and for a moment he looks almost powerful. Then he ‘tsks’ at me and rolls his eyes dramatically.

“Honestly, girl. Getting yourself half killed twice in a week? You’re going to give the poor demon an ulcer.” He scolds, gesturing vaguely at Oz. Then he rounds on him fully, eyes narrowing into slits of silver fire.

“And YOU. This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t been such a monumental idiot and pissed her off in the first place. You were supposed to be watching her back!” He insists. Oz wilts under the lecture, shoulders folding in, his tail wrapping protectively around his ankles. Clarence sighs like the weight of the world is on his shoulders.

“Ugh, I don’t have time for this nonsense. Here. Drink.” He pulls a handful of little glass bottles from his belt, their contents swirling with suspicious colours. Green, purple, something that glows faintly gold.

“What are—” Oz starts to ask, but Clarence cuts him off with an impatient flick of his wrist.

“Drink.” He repeats.

I do as I’m told, because honestly, arguing with Clarence is pointless at the best of times, and right now I’m too tired to bother. Oz helps tip the little bottles into my mouth. The first potion burns all the way down, scorching my throat and making me cough until tears prick at my eyes. The second one is freezing cold, leaving a sharp, stinging numbness in its wake. The third tastes… Oddly floral, but with an aftertaste like mouldy cheese. I grimace but force it down. Clarence nods, satisfied, and snaps his fingers at the gathered crowd.

“Out. All of you. She needs rest, not your gawking.” He insists. Then Clarence levels Oz with a look.

“Not you. You stay. Watch her.” He orders.

People scuttle away like scolded children. Then Clarence sweeps off, robes trailing dramatically behind him like some cranky wizard king. And I guess in this library that’s basically what he is. King of his own little domain.

The room is suddenly silent. My ears are ringing and the fog in my head starts to lift. Unfortunately, that also means the pain comes roaring in.

“Shit.” I hiss, pressing a hand to my ribs. My entire chest feels like it’s been kicked in by a horse. Breathing hurts. Sitting up hurts. Existing hurts. Great.

Oz’s hands hover at my shoulders, not quite touching. His eyes are wide with worry. I push his hand away, ignoring the pang of guilt that flashes across his face. But I need to turn and face him. I need to see him properly so we can talk. He flinches back immediately, shoulders tensing.

“Sorry… I can get someone else if you don’t want me here.” He offers sadly.

“What?” My voice comes out hoarse and scratchy. I clear my throat, wincing at the ache.

“No. I came here looking for you, stupid.” I grumble. Okay, that’s not how I was planning this conversation, but I feel like crap. So tact is going out the window and being replaced with bluntness. His eyes flick up to mine, hope peering through.

“You did?” He asks. I nod, slumping back against the wall with a pained groan.

“Yeah. I realised I… I should’ve let you explain. And… I missed you.” I force out. Why is this so embarrassing? Maybe because I’m sitting on the floor again. I imagined I would at least be on my own two feet for this conversation.

The change in his face is instant. The tension drains from his shoulders, his eyes go soft and warm and almost unbearably bright. Like I just handed him the moon.

“Really?” His voice cracks. Oz leans closer, elbows on his knees, hands twitching like he wants to touch me but doesn’t dare.

“I swear it wasn’t… I mean, I messed up. Shit, I messed up so bad. But it’s not like you think. There’s more to it. I never would have hurt you. I swear it.” He says sincerely. I study him, his desperate honesty, the cracks in his usually unbreakable facade. Now that I’ve calmed down, now that the anger has burned away to tired resignation, I believe him. Deep down, I always did. If he’d wanted me dead, he could have walked away at any point. But he didn’t. He stayed. He helped. He cared.

“I believe you.” I say quietly. His breath catches, like I’ve just punched him in the chest.

“And we should talk about it. I want to hear what happened. But first… Can we please just… Go home?” I ask.

Oz’s relief is palpable. He nods eagerly, stumbling to his feet.

“Of course. I’ll get someone to call us a ride. I’ll be right back.” He answers in a hurry.

Then he rushes off down the hall, his tail flicking behind him in restless, happy arcs. I let my head fall back against the wall and close my eyes.

Home. Yeah. That sounds… Really nice right now.