Why You Should Never Rescue Stray Demons Chapter 62

**KACIA**

After Oz starts telling me about his family and his home, it’s like he can’t stop. His voice softens and shifts, becoming warmer, tinged with a wistful sadness that makes my chest ache. He talks about the little corner of the demon realm where he grew up, about how his siblings used to follow him around like ducklings, about the smell of the old stone kitchens when his brother tried to cook and inevitably burned everything, about his sister sneaking wildflowers into his pockets when she thought he wasn’t looking.

And as he talks, I realise, really realise, that he never would have chosen to leave them. To leave that life. He might act like he’s adjusting here, might tease me about human food and shopping malls and how our world is so ‘hopelessly chaotic and disorganised,’ but beneath all of that is a deep, gnawing grief for everything he lost the day that fae dragged him away.

All at once, I feel furious with this mystery fae. For summoning him. For binding him. For tearing him away from everything he loves just to turn him into a weapon in someone else’s fight. He was living his life, protecting his siblings, probably annoying the hell out of them with his bossy big brother routine that totally suits him… And they stole all of that from him. For me. For my death.

And yet, deep down, hidden where even I don’t want to look too closely, there’s this tiny, selfish part of me that feels guilty. Guilty because that little part of me is glad. Because as much as it sucks, as much as it’s horrible, if that fae hadn’t summoned him, I never would have met Oz. I try to tell myself that maybe that would be a good thing. That I wouldn’t have to deal with the confusing tangle of emotions he’s brought into my life.

I wouldn’t have to lie awake at night replaying the way he looks at me sometimes, and I wouldn’t be getting attached to someone who so clearly wishes he could be somewhere else. Because that’s the thing, isn’t it? He says he has no plans to go home right now, mostly because he can’t. But he never said he doesn’t WANT to. He never said he wouldn’t leave the moment he had the chance.

And I hate myself a little bit, but I can’t stop thinking about it, if the fae were to suddenly lift that spell right now, if Oz had the choice… I think he’d leave. I think he’d be gone before I even had time to say goodbye. And I’d be left here, picking up the pieces of a heart I didn’t even realise I’d handed over to him.

It’s not that I don’t think he cares about me, but I can hear how much he DOES care about his siblings. He misses them, and I can’t blame him for wanting to go home. I promised him I’d help find a way to break the spells, and I meant it. Of course, I meant it. I don’t want him trapped here, hurting, forever yearning for a place he can’t reach. I want him free. But is it wrong for me to hope, just a bit, that maybe it takes a little while?

Eventually, I decide it’s time to get up and start my day. Oz, naturally, is very much against the idea. He’s hovering at the edge of the bed, arms folded, tail flicking with agitation like a disgruntled cat.

“You should really be resting. You nearly died yesterday!” He argues for what must be the fourth time in ten minutes.

I cross my arms over my chest in defiance, immediately regretting it as pain flares up my ribs. I do my best to ignore it, glaring at him anyway.

“I’m not staying in bed all day, Oz.” I insist as I swing my legs over the side and stand, feeling the throb of soreness in my chest and back, but it’s bearable.

Yesterday I felt… Well, drained. Like my soul had been wrung out and left to dry in the sun. But today, it’s just pain. Pain I can deal with. Sitting around doing nothing while thinking about the pain? That would drive me insane. I shuffle to my closet, flicking through options. Something loose, soft, nothing with zippers or stiff seams. Maybe my oversized track pants and one of the hoodies I stole from Mikey over the years.

Oz sighs behind me, long suffering.

“Well, okay then. What are we doing today?” He asks, his tone abruptly changing to casual curiosity.

I pause, glancing back at him suspiciously.

“You sure changed your tune fast.” I point out. He shrugs, smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“My code of survival says never argue with a woman. Especially if she’s armed.” He jokes.

I snort, half laughing, half groaning as my ribs protest.

“Ow, damn it, stop being funny. Laughing hurts.” I complain. He places a dramatic hand over his heart.

“I’ll try my best. But it’ll be difficult.” He says with mock sincerity.

I roll my eyes, biting back another smile. Damn it, why does he have to be like this? I swear he’s infuriating on purpose.

“So…” He drawls, shifting closer, his tail curling lazily behind him.

“I’ll ask again, what are we doing today? Please tell me it’s something easy, relaxing, and safe. Preferably with minimal chances of you bleeding out or getting kidnapped.” He says pointedly.

I hesitate. There’s one thing I’ve been thinking about doing, something overdue. But… I eye him up and down, considering. I’m fairly sure Oz will approve. Actually, I think he’ll probably approve a little TOO much.

I sigh and drop the loose t shirt back onto its hanger, reaching for a soft, black knitted dress instead. The material is stretchy and gentle on my bruised skin. It falls to my knees, sleeves loose enough not to press against the cuts on my arms. I pull it off the hanger and turn to him, raising an eyebrow.

“How would you feel about… Going to visit my mother?” I ask reluctantly.

His reaction is immediate. His eyebrows shoot up, his mouth falling open slightly in shock. Then, slowly, the corners of his lips curl into the most delightedly devilish grin I’ve ever seen on him.

“Princess, I thought you wanted to do something relaxing today.” He says, his voice low with amusement.

He sees I want to change and turns his back.

“Visiting my mother IS relaxing.” I argue, tugging the dress down over my hips and wincing slightly as it brushes against a bruise.

“At least it’s relaxing when I go. Maybe you should just… Stay here…” I suggest, tapping his arm to indicate it’s safe to turn back.

Oz is already shaking his head, his expression scandalised.

“Oh, hell no, there is no way you’re leaving me behind. There are assassins after you, remember? You need my protection!” He snaps immediately.

I narrow my eyes at him suspiciously.

“You just want to meet my mother.” I accuse. He shrugs, utterly unbothered.

“Of course I do. But that doesn’t mean it’s not true.” He points out.

I huff, rolling my eyes as I sit on the edge of the bed to pull on socks, each movement sending a dull ache through my chest.

“I guess so. It’s probably best you come along anyway, since you’ve been… Well, dragged into all my drama.” I sigh.

His smirk softens a little.

“So, is this visit somehow related to the people wanting you dead?” He questions, leaning casually against my bedroom doorframe, arms folded across his broad chest. I nod, pulling my hair out from under my dress collar and running my fingers through it to detangle the strands.

I automatically start braiding the ends then remember I don’t have to and comb my fingers through to remove the braids.

“Yep. It’s… An information searching trip. If a fae wants me dead, they have to know about me. They have to know who I am and who I’m related to. The thing is… I don’t even know what fae I’m related to.” I explain.

Oz’s eyebrows lift slightly, but he stays silent, listening.

“So, we’re going to go see my mother. And we are going to ask about my father.”