Why You Should Never Rescue Stray Demons Chapter 67

**KACIA**

Oz is being bossy again. Not in the serious, overbearing way, thankfully, but in the obnoxiously fussy, ridiculous, and mildly infuriating way that’s rapidly becoming… Well, kind of adorable. He’s trying his best to distract me and keep me entertained, which basically means he is being completely ridiculous. I’m barely allowed to lift a finger. According to him, I’m on a ‘strict mother-mandated recovery leave,’ which apparently includes a ban on anything resembling productivity, enforced snacking, and being wrapped in the fluffiest blankets available in the house. I’m now ninety percent fabric, ten percent broken ribs. And that’s not even the worst of it. He has also decided, completely unprompted, that today’s theme is ‘relentlessly romantic distraction.’ He has ramped his flirting up about five hundred percent. I swear he cannot seem to say a single sentence without including a pet name and some kind of flirtation. At first he was trying to be original, but after the first half hour he ran out of material, so now he’s just repeating lines or getting increasingly cheesy. And it’s great. Because it’s practically impossible to feel down when a sexy as hell demon is calling me angel (the irony is not lost on me). It’s silly, dramatic and obvious what he’s doing. But it’s working. I DO feel better. Sure, the situation with my dad sucks, but realistically, nothing has changed from this morning. I didn’t have a father then and I still don’t now. I can be disappointed that I never knew him, but I’ve always felt that way. The conversation with my mother just kind of brought those feelings to the surface. So, I’m enjoying a distraction in the form of Oz, which mostly involves him flirting with me so hard I’m surprised the furniture hasn’t caught fire. 

“You sure you’re warm enough, angel?” He asks for the fifth time in ten minutes, tucking yet another blanket around me with exaggerated care. He’s not being serious, I’m positive that he knows I’m about two blankets away from being buried alive

“I have enough layers on to survive a blizzard.” I grumble.

“Well, good. If a freak magical snowstorm hits the living room, we’ll be prepared.” He answers cheerfully. I raise an eyebrow. 

“That’s comforting. Are we expecting a sudden snowstorm?” I ask. Oz shrugs.

“No, but I can’t risk my sweet little snow fae freezing to death.” He coos, not even pretending to try and flirt decently at this point. There are no standards. 

“I’m not a snow fae.” I answer bluntly. 

“You’re not sweet either, but I have to work with what the lines I’ve got.” He answers. 

“Charming.” I respond. 

“Oh, sweetheart, if you think this is charming, just wait until I break out the poetry.” He purrs. I raise an eyebrow. 

“Poetry? There’s no way.” I answer. Oz grins and I realise I’ve accidentally set him a challenge. Damn, this is going to be terrible.

“Your… Violet eyes could swallow me whole, if I look too long I’ll lose all control…” Oz starts, then he pauses and furrows his brow. 

“You’re so stunning, I’d… Fight a troll?” Oz finishes dramatically, the last word coming out like a question. 

“Did you seriously just use ‘troll’ in your ‘romantic poetry?” I ask. 

“I stand by that masterpiece.” Oz declares firmly. I snort a laugh, which immediately makes me wince. 

“Ow. Stop making me laugh.” I complain. 

“I can’t help it. Besides, I’m doing you a favour. Laughter is the best medicine, right? Second only to Clarence’s healing potions and demon cuddles.” Oz winks at me. 

“You’re so full of-” I start but Oz cuts me off. 

“Charm and wit?” He suggests, grinning.

“Not what I was going to say.” I answer.

Honestly, I SHOULD be annoyed by how he isn’t taking a single word seriously, or maybe how he’s been talking through every minute of the movie we’re watching. I should at least be mildly exasperated. But it’s hard to hold onto anything negative when he’s being like this, sweet, silly, dramatic, and so clearly trying to make me smile that I can’t help but feel the weight in my chest start to lift. It’s working. I hate that it’s working. No, scratch that. I love that it’s working. I just don’t want to admit it out loud. I’m not sure I should be encouraging this. 

“Aww, you’re so harsh to me, little flower.” Oz says dramatically, clutching his chest. 

“Wow, that might be one of the worst ones so far.” I comment. Oz raises an eyebrow. 

“What’s the worst one so far?” He asks, confused. 

“Pet name. You’ve used, like, thirty today. I might need to start compiling a list.” I point out. His eyes light up with mischief. 

“Oh, do go on.” He smirks. I tap my chin, pretending to think. 

“Let’s see… Cupcake was questionable.” I start.

“Rude. Cupcakes are sweet, and everyone likes them.” He argues. 

“Sugar muffin felt vaguely threatening.” I continue. 

“That’s just a variation of cupcake!” He insists. 

“You called me a chocolate coated marshmallow. I add.

“That was supposed to be cute! I was saying you’re strong on the outside and soft on the inside!” He continues to justify his weird pet names. 

“And sexy lamb was just confusing.” I finish. Oz laughs so hard he nearly chokes on his drink. 

“Okay, I’ll give you that one.” He agrees. 

“I’m going to start keeping a record.You might have to up your creativity. If you repeat anything too many times, I’ll deduct points.” I tease. 

“Excuse you, I am a MASTER of romantic vocabulary.” Oz insists with a frown.

“Oh yeah?” I shoot back. 

“Prove it. I dare you to flirt without repeating yourself for the next hour.” I challenge. Oz smirks, undeterred. 

“Prepare to be wooed, my shimmering moonbeam of mischief.” He warns. I snort again. 

“Moonbeam? Really?” I ask. 

“It’s poetic.” He says with a frown. 

“It’s awful.” I say flatly. He gasps, clutching his chest dramatically. 

“You wound me.” He might actually be faking tears right now. 

“I haven’t even started.” I answer. 

“Like you could do better.” He says with narrowed eyes. Was that a challenge? I think it was. I clear my throat, sit up straighter and regret it instantly because OW. 

“Well hello there, tall, dark and dangerous. Can you give me directions? Because I keep getting lost in your eyes.” I speak in my most sultry voice. Honestly, I feel completely ridiculous. But it’s worth it, because after a pause, Oz actually groans and presses a hand to his forehead like he’s in pain.

“I think I just got secondhand embarrassment.” He declares. 

“You liked it, and it was still better than your lines.” I say smugly.

“I liked it the way people enjoy bad horror movies. It was so terrible, it circled back around to genius.” He decides. 

“Exactly.” I smirk. We lapse into laughter again, and I naturally lean into him a little, just enough that our shoulders brush. It’s easy, this banter. Comfortable. Even with the bruises and the pain and the not so small threat of being murdered hanging over both our heads, somehow being next to him makes things feel bearable. Manageable. Of course, he then decides to up the absurdity.

“Wait here.” He announces dramatically, leaping to his feet.

“You literally told me not to move all day, plus you’ve basically trapped me in blankets.” I remind him.

“Good, then you might listen for once sweet temptress.” He tosses back, disappearing into the kitchen. A minute later, he returns with a bowl of popcorn balanced in one hand, a handful of wrapped chocolates in the other, and, because he is clearly a menace, or maybe just because he’s on a sugar high, a dishtowel tied around his neck like a cape.

“Oh no…” I mutter.

“Behold! I bring you the sacred juggling of sugared delights!” He announces. I try to protest. 

“Oz, no-” I start. But it’s too late. This can’t end well.