Why You Should Never Rescue Stray Demons Chapter 96

**KACIA**

We head back down to the library because… Well, because Oz wanted to, I guess. He did give me a reason, something about Finneas and prophecies, but honestly? It sounded more like an excuse than an actual plan. Like the first semi-plausible thing that popped into his head just to get us moving. Maybe there’s someone there he wants to talk to? Or maybe he was just done with sitting around my friends’ house, listening to Mikey and Sarah gush about baby names and Angelo’s new role as household brownie. I probably should have asked him if he was okay with staying that long, he isn’t exactly the type to speak up if he’s uncomfortable. He just… Broods. Intensely. And right now, he’s definitely brooding. He’s been twitchy ever since we left, like there’s something boiling under the surface that he won’t admit to. Not the same kind of twitchy as when he’s hiding something, though. I know that version of him too well, the way his jaw locks, the way his eyes won’t quite meet mine. Last time he acted like that was the first time I asked about his family and he nearly came apart at the seams. But this… This feels different. He doesn’t look guilty. Not at all. Which is… Actually a little reassuring. If he was hiding another massive, relationship shattering truth, he’d look like he was swallowing glass. And I’ve already decided to trust him. I made that choice knowing it wasn’t going to be easy. Still, just because he isn’t repeating old mistakes doesn’t mean he isn’t capable of brand new ones. And that’s the problem, isn’t it? Trusting someone means accepting that they’re going to screw up eventually, and hoping they don’t screw up in a way that shatters you. So here I am. Sitting in the driver’s seat, trying to believe that whatever he’s not telling me isn’t dangerous, or stupid, or something that will rip us apart. Hope for the best. That’s all I can do.

Before we even make it to the library, Taryn waves us over from her garden, a big smile on her face as if she’s been waiting for a chance to intercept me. I head over with my best cheerful grin.

“Hey Taryn. How are you?” I ask lightly.

“Oh, I’m totally fine, same as always.” She replies, dusting soil off her hands. 

“I should be the one asking you that. You’re the one who keeps collecting all sorts of crazy injuries. Should you really be out and about like this? Honestly, I’m starting to think we should wrap you in bubble wrap. Or maybe put you in a giant hamster ball. Anything to keep you safe.” She teases. I groan loudly. 

“It’s not MY fault people keep attacking me. In general I’m actually pretty good at getting through scrapes in one piece!” I object. 

“Except for that time with the goat.” Taryn points out, smirking. Heat floods my cheeks, and I glance sideways at Oz, who now looks way too interested.

“That wasn’t my fault. Someone gave it enchanted lettuce, it was running wild!” I argue, far too defensively. Taryn raises an eyebrow, unrelenting. 

“And I suppose the time with the duck wasn’t your fault either?” She adds, digging me in even deeper. I drop my head into my hands with a groan. 

“Those things are EVIL, I swear. How was I supposed to know it would climb up my sleeve like that? Never trust a duck…” I grumble. Taryn laughs, enjoying my misery. 

“I’m just saying, you end up in more than your fair share of scrapes.” She points out. 

“Fine.” I mumble, glaring at her through my fingers. 

“I’m accident prone. Happy now?” I ask. She shrugs with faux innocence. 

“I suppose so. But you really should be more careful. Maybe spend more time in the library. Then you’d have Vidar protecting you too.” There’s a noticeable softness in her tone plus that neverending admiration she always has when she says Vidar’s name, yep, definitely a crush. From beside me, Oz huffs loud enough to ruffle my hair. Both Taryn and I turn to face him.

“I can keep you safe.” He grumbles, sounding every bit like a sulking guard dog. I can’t help it, I smile. 

“That’s really sweet of you, Oz. But you’re leaving, aren’t you? I have to plan for the future. Maybe I will spend more time here.” I say it lightly, almost teasing, but there’s an edge under the words I know he hears. His mouth opens, then closes again, his jaw flexing like he’s biting back everything he wants to say. He looks completely put out, which makes it very hard not to smirk. I’m just reminding him of the consequences of the decision he says he has made. I turn back to Taryn, who’s frowning like she’s stepped into the middle of a conversation she shouldn’t be hearing.

“Leaving? Is Oz going on a trip or something?” She asks, raising an eyebrow. I arch my own and look at him expectantly. I gesture, inviting him to explain himself. He sighs heavily, his voice calm but slow, like he’s forcing each word out. 

“Once I’m sure that Kacia is safe, I’ll be going home. I don’t have plans to return in the immediate future.” He explains. Taryn’s frown deepens. Her gaze bounces between me and Oz, confusion turning into something else, something softer, pitying. My stomach knots. I hate that look. 

“Right…” She says finally, her smile completely dimmed. And there it is, that damned concerned look, like she knows something about me I don’t. Like she’s already decided I’m some tragic heroine. It makes my skin crawl.

“Well, Oz and I should go inside. It was nice seeing you, Taryn! I’ll stop by again soon, okay? Bye!” I blurt out in one rushed breath. Then, without waiting for her reply, I grab Oz firmly by the arm and all but drag him toward the library doors.

“Woah, what’s the hurry? I’m fairly sure I was the one being glared at, not you.” Oz mutters as I march him toward the library doors. I sigh and force myself to slow down, though my chest still feels tight. 

“No, I wasn’t being glared at. I was being pitied. And that is so much worse.” The words come out sharper than I intended, so I soften a little. 

“Besides, you’ve already spent half the morning stuck with my friends, you probably don’t enjoy watching me chatter on.” I add. Oz scoffs, low and dismissive. 

“I like your friends.” Then his eyes flick down to me, his voice dropping into something softer and dangerously warm. 

“Besides… I enjoy watching everything you do.” He adds quietly. For one stunned heartbeat, the world seems to tilt. The way he says it, husky and unguarded, feels like a confession. My pulse stutters, and I swear the air between us goes heavier. His mouth curves into the faintest smirk, and my lips part before I even know what I’d say. But then it hits him. His expression shutters, smirk vanishing like smoke. He looks stricken, like he just set off a trap he laid for himself.

“Sorry…” He mutters, eyes darting away. His hand flexes at his side, like he wants to reach for me but won’t let himself. That won’t do. I’m sick of this wishy washy behaviour. I stop dead, tugging on his arm until he turns to face me. I step in close, closer than polite conversation should allow, and tilt my chin up to catch his gaze. 

“You don’t need to apologise.” I say, voice low and steady. 

“And you don’t need to hold back so much. It’s excruciating watching you swallow down whatever you actually want to say.” I tell him. His mouth parts, no doubt ready to rattle off his favourite excuse about being dangerous and leaving, but I slap my hand lightly over his lips before he gets the chance.

“Don’t.” I warn, eyes locking on his. His breath is warm against my palm. 

“Don’t start about how you’re leaving and how you’ll hurt me. You’ve made your position very clear. You’re not leading me on. I know what I want, and I’d much rather have you as you really are, not this… Half version of you that keeps pulling away. Even if it is only until you decide to leave.” I say firmly. He goes still. Too still. His dark search mine, and the intensity there steals my breath. His lips twitch under my palm, like he’s fighting the urge to kiss me or argue, or both. For a second, I think he might snap, might grab my wrist, drag my hand away and finally give in. The thought makes my pulse pound. But then that hesitation creeps back. Doubt. Fear. He doesn’t move. So I slowly drop my hand, letting my fingers brush his jaw before pulling away. I paste on a smile that’s probably more stubborn than sweet. 

“Come on, let’s go find Fin.” I say softly. Then I loop my arm through his, deliberately claiming the space at his side. He’s tense at first, every line of him braced like he’ll retreat. But he doesn’t. He lets me hold on and pull him along. And that, for now, feels like another small victory to me.