6- But He Was Naked. I Was Confused.

OZ

It takes a second for her words to sink in.

“My name is Kacia Hunter.” She said. Kacia. Hunter. As in the girl the fae summoned me to kill. As in the person who has to die in order for me to go home. Shit. Shit, shit, SHIT! I launch myself to my feet in what I hope will be a smooth, non suspicious movement. It isn’t. My legs are still shaky, and I stumble like I’m drunk.

“Whoa, what’s wrong?” Kacia asks, concern etched across her face. Her brows draw together, her whole expression soft with worry. She doesn’t even reach for a weapon. She’s just… Worried about me. Which makes this so much worse.

“Uuuh, I just…” Think, Oz. Lie better.

“I just want to get cleaned up. May I use your bathroom?” I ask. My voice sounds almost normal, if you ignore the tightness and the way it cracks near the end.

“Oh. Sure.” She says, still watching me like she suspects I might faint or something.

“It’s just through there, first door on the left.” She directs me easily. Apparently not even concerned about letting me wander her home unattended. I nod stiffly and make my way toward the hallway, clutching at what little dignity I have left. The moment I’m in the bathroom, I shut the door and lean against it, exhaling sharply. This is bad. No. This is worse than bad. This is cosmic level bad. I uncoil my tail from around my waist, letting it flick and twitch with all the nervous energy I have been trying to keep off my face. There isn’t enough room to pace in here, this bathroom is nearly as tiny as Kacia is,  but I want to move around. My whole body is tight with adrenaline and dread. What the hell am I going to do? Even if I DIDN’T owe this girl my life, I still wouldn’t be able to go through with it. I assumed the fae was sending me after someone powerful. Corrupt. Evil. Probably another fae. Not this. Not a girl who fights like hell to save strangers. Who feeds them. Who worries when they stumble and doesn’t ask for anything in return. She’s too good. But if I don’t kill her… I can never go home. The spell binding my gateing abilities is still locked around my wrist like a shackle. Unless I can find a way to remove it, I’m stuck here. And in the meantime? I owe Kacia a life debt. To the very girl I was summoned to kill. Fantastic.

I take a deep breath and move to the shower. One problem at a time. First, I need to heal. If I can get even a fraction of my strength back, I can start thinking clearly. Maybe find another solution. Maybe there’s a way to break the binding spell. Maybe… I twist the tap and let the water heat. I set it to scalding, just shy of boiling. The kind of heat that would harm human skin. But I’m not human. Not even close. I glance down at my clothes. My shirt is filthy, crusted with dried blood, grime, and sweat. My jeans LOOK passable, but in reality they’re not great either. Not that I have anything else to change into anyway… I strip quickly and step into the steam, letting the water pour over me. It hits like a wave of relief. For a long moment, I just stand there, letting the dirt and pain and panic wash down the drain. I let go. Then, bit by bit, I allow my true form to slip through the cracks. My skin shifts, darkening back to its natural grey. My claws return, curling with satisfaction. Horns push through my scalp. My eyes, once clouded grey, flood back to endless black as my vision sharpens. The markings around my wrists are still there, a cruel reminder etched into my flesh. But even with them, I can feel strength slowly trickling back into me. I close my eyes and breathe. I feel… Better. Not perfect. But far more steady. So I turn the water off. I step out and reach for a towel, only to immediately trip over the damn bath mat. So much for being steady… I stumble forward, wet feet slipping on the tiles. I flail for balance. For a moment I think I might be okay, but then I catch the sink with my elbow, and in doing so, I knock everything off of it, hairbrushes, bottles, makeup stuff Everything crashes to the ground in a loud, catastrophic clatter. I scramble to catch some of it but I just go tumbling over too and my ass hits the tiles. Ouch. And because apparently fate isn’t done with me yet, the door bursts open a second later.

“Are you okay, what happe-” Kacia stops mid sentence. Her eyes go wide and I freeze. She takes in the scene, me, very much in full demon form, completely naked, sitting on the bathroom floor surrounded by the wreckage of her toiletries. There is a long, charged silence. I stare at her. She stares at me. Shit.

KACIA

I’m elbow deep in the linen cupboard, getting a blanket from the perfectly organised stack when a loud crash echoes from the bathroom. My heart jumps. Great. I KNEW I shouldn’t have let him go shower on his own. The guy could barely sit upright ten minutes ago. But no, I had to let him wander off on his own. Now he’s probably slipped, cracked his head open, and is bleeding out on my tile. In my bathroom. I abandon the blankets and rush to the door. It’s locked but I don’t hesitate. He might be dying! I use a nail to turn the cheap lock, then I throw it open.

“Are you okay? What happe-” I stop. Mid sentence. Mid thought. Ozraed is sprawled on the floor. Surrounded by the graveyard of my makeup collection. My very expensive, carefully organised, colour coded makeup collection. It’s just… everywhere. Lipsticks. Eyeliners. Shattered eyeshadows… One of my brushes is sitting bristles down in a puddle of water and, oh damn it, I think that was my favourite setting powder. The good news is, Ozraed doesn’t look injured. But more importantly he's a Demon? What the hell? How did I not notice? Oh shit, I brought a DEMON home with me... And now he's lying on my bathroom floor.... He doesn't seem so dangerous like this. Plus he's naked. Not that him being naked makes him less dangerous.... But it's REALLY hard to stare at him and assess his Demonic species when I feel the need to avert my eyes so I don’t start staring for all the wrong reasons. Speaking of eyes, Ozraed has closed his, which seems a little backwards to me.

“…You realise closing your eyes doesn’t mean I can’t see you, right?” I manage in a sort of strangled voice. I edge around him carefully, stepping over his tail like it’s a sleeping snake. I grab a fluffy towel off the rack and sort of… Drape it over his lap.

“I’m keeping my eyes closed for your sake, not mine.” He mutters.

“As you’ve probably realised, I’m a Kakos demon.” He explains. No kidding. Now that I can look at him without blushing, it’s obvious. Grey skin, claws, the horns and the tail, definitely Kakos. I take a deep breath and force myself to let it go. Or at least compartmentalise. I'm kind of pissed off actually. I KNEW he wasn't totally human, he has a magic aura after all, but a demon? Then again… I guess I didn't exactly stop to ask though. Do I even have the right to be mad? Would I have done anything different if I DID know what he was? It's not like I could have just left him there, and at least now I know why he didn't want to go to a hospital. Really, it's almost flattering that he trusted me enough to come to my home instead. Demons aren't known for being particularly trusting. I step back and turn to leave when his voice stops me again.

“Are you going to kill me now?” He asks quietly. I spin around.

“Don’t be an idiot. I just saved you. Why would I kill you?” I demand. I throw my hands up in exasperation.

“I don’t even KNOW you. Just… Put something on and come out here so we can talk like civilised people. Preferably clothed ones.” I order. Then I turn and storm out. And yeah, I MAY slam the door harder than necessary, but I'm annoyed. He basically just accused me of being a speciesist murderer just because I’m kind of flustered? Sure I didn't ASK if he was a Demon, but still. He could have said something. Not that he knows what I am... Or does he? Demons have enhanced senses. Some of them can smell magical heritage. He might be able to smell the fae in me. I really should read up on my demonology, I'm a bit rusty. What can Kakos demons do again? I collapse onto my couch and drag a throw blanket over my lap, more for comfort than warmth. My brain’s already spinning. Kakos demons. What do I remember? Heightened senses, shadow magic, that whole nightmare eye contact thing. Bound by deal magic… Not to mention they’re strong, fast and generally dangerous. I think they’re usually mostly solitary. Not exactly the type you want in your home. And yet… He hasn’t hurt me. He hasn’t even threatened me. He just tripped over a bath mat and tried not to flash me while having a supernatural identity crisis. I stare up at the ceiling and groan softly. This is just my luck. Of course, if I HAD to end up with a demon in my house. At least it’s one who owes me, right?