Page 20 of How Not to Charm Your Human Colleague (Falling for Demons #2)

A NIGHT IN HECK

Kizros

K izros brushed his hair to the left, leaning closer to the mirror as he tilted his head either way to inspect the change.

It looked sophisticated with his glasses, enough to go with his plaid linen shirt and best trousers.

Well, best gardening trousers. He wasn’t going to pull out his array of suits for this.

Shit, should he? Usually he only wore them for required functions with his family or fancy art shows. This wasn’t either of those, but it was important. Maybe important? Important to him.

“Kizros! What are you doing in there?” Aofe called from the living room. “Attie keeps pacing in front of your door.”

Fuck it. He jammed his fingers back in the green strands and scrubbed, returning it to his normal, messy style. With one more tug on the rolled cuffs of his shirt, he blew out a breath and called it good enough.

He found Aofe sitting on the couch, bent over as she tied the laces of her boots.

Beige leggings hugged her calves and thighs, disappearing underneath a midnight blue skirt that hit above her knees.

Her baggy sweater was the same color as her leggings, sprinkled with light blue…

they looked like stars from a distance, but when he got closer, he could make out the little petals of each embroidered flower.

Attie had apparently given up pacing in favor of lying flat on her belly to occasionally nudge Aofe’s fingers with her nose while she finished lacing her boots. They both looked up when he came into view.

“Hi,” Aofe said, a pink flush to her cheeks. She quickly blew away a strand of blue hair that fell into her eyes, blinking as she scanned his body. “You look… um, wow.”

“Is that good?” he asked, glancing down at himself. He’d tried on every shirt he owned before settling on this one, but if she didn’t like it, he might just give up on the evening and the possibility of ever impressing her again.

“Very good, Kiz,” she reassured him, sliding her arms into her crutches to stand. The atteapir stood with her, wedging herself between Aofe’s legs and the couch to help her up. “Thanks, Attie.”

“You look very beautiful.”

She huffed a laugh, then tapped her crutches. “Thank you. I think I might need some of that paint you sold Azrion yesterday so I can spruce these guys up for special occasions.”

That was an option, or…

“Hold on,” he said, then snagged a few blades of steel grass from the vase on the side table.

Kizros knelt in front of Aofe, tying half the grass on her left crutch and the rest on her right. Extending one of his claws, he closed his eyes and made the proper adjustments to his calculations. Once he was satisfied, he opened them again and carved the rune into the blades.

“What are you— oh ,” Aofe gasped, watching as the blades of grass grew and twisted down the legs of her crutches, sprouting two shades of blue flowers, just as he’d planned. When he stood, Aofe was still admiring the artistry. “Aw, they match my sweater.”

Kizros fought a wider smile when she beamed up at him, tucking her blue hair back behind her ears. “Yeah. Your sweater.” He gestured to the stairs. “You ready?”

She nodded, letting Attie lead the way down the stairs to the cart waiting out front. It wasn’t a long walk, but Kizros wasn’t going to put any more strain on Aofe’s body when she’d finally agreed to come out with him.

Maybe he’d been a little desperate when he claimed this festival was the best way to welcome in the summer, but it was a yearly tradition he always loved.

And this year, he had two ulterior motives for going.

The first, a more primal need in him to show off the woman he was currently courting during the day and knotting at night.

The second, an even more selfish desire to show that woman more of the city she had yet to explore.

In three weeks, Aofe had yet to step outside the front door except for his family’s dinner.

Even he was prone to holing up in the apothecary, but that’s why he always scheduled tea with Ragnar or strolls in the park or even nights out.

Aofe had actively avoided anything that required leaving until he’d practically begged her to go with him tonight.

At this point, he just wanted her to know there was more to Heck than him and his shop, just in case.

Let her know she had options and make himself not feel as if he was caging her.

Kizros stayed silent on the ride, watching Aofe take in the streets like she’d done their first day. He tried to read her looks, analyze where her gaze lingered or passed over certain landmarks, but she made no indication—through smiles or facial expressions—whether she was interested in anything.

Even as they pulled up to the park, her chin only lifted slightly to see the gated archway and strung demonlights down the pathway inside.

“It’s pretty,” Aofe said as he helped her down from the cart, his tail lowering her crutches. A few demons frowned at the cart as they walked around, but the moment Attie hopped out of the carriage, they hurried away.

“Just wait until we’re inside,” Kizros said with a grin, leading her to the entry. He pointed to the iron gates as they passed. “See those figures twisting around the scrolls and finials? That’s the history of Heck.”

Demons shuffled past them, giving Attie a wide berth as Kizros explained the human sorcerers who had summoned their founding ancestors and attempted to enslave them, resulting in the poisoning of the forest that created the Dreadmoor and Veilwood surrounding the city.

Aofe listened, asking him questions about the growth of the city, the council, and the advancements they’d made once they realized they couldn’t return to their plane.

He took all of this as a good sign—that she was curious enough to want to know where she now resided but also learn more about its history and what made it special.

She lingered closer to him as they walked, still keeping an eye on the ground and Attie who trotted alongside her.

He continued to talk, going off on tangents as he was prone to do, while they strolled the pathways around the festival.

There were games under canopies, a divination stall that Aofe actively avoided, and stages set up with various acts of comedies, plays, and even magic competitions.

At one point, he could have sworn he saw Tarzul, the Horn of Finances, but the demon ducked behind a tent and disappeared before Kizros could say hello.

Then a few food stalls caught Aofe’s attention, so he bought her everything: meats, cheeses, a sweater, and gold hair clips to match the rest of her gold jewelry.

When Kizros finally spotted an open table, he walked ahead to claim it, unloading his arms of their snacks. “Oh, you should try this first?—”

“Attie, stop!” Aofe blurted, and Kizros spun to find her chasing after the atteapir who had switched directions.

The silver creature circled a tall red demon, who had his hands up and away from her, his body tense as he remained perfectly still.

Another human, somehow smaller than Aofe, stood off to the side watching with mild interest.

Kizros made it to the demon at the same time Aofe did, but he pulled up short as Attie plopped her butt down on the male’s boots.

No, not just any red demon.

Severath .

Attie wiggled until he seemed to understand, shifting his legs wider so he was soon straddling her.

“I’m so sorry, sir. She’s not usually like this,” Aofe said, trying to wave Attie out from between his legs. She smiled at the other human. “Hey, Ember? I’m Aofe. That’s Kizros, my… uh, um, my colleague ?”

Well, at least she’d called him hers . Could be worse.

The other woman gave a half-wave, looking confused and perhaps a bit overwhelmed by the chaos.

“It’s, uh, she’s not going to slice me with her tail, right?” Severath asked.

Aofe jerked her head up in confusion. “What?”

“Atteapir tails can ignite. The fire is so hot, it can slice through their prey. ”

Ember snorted, but Aofe’s wide gaze snapped to Kizros. “She can do what ?”

“No, no,” Kizros hurried to explain, coming to stand with Aofe. “She’s a runt and doesn’t have that ability. She’s harmless.” He gave the red demon a sheepish smile as he scratched the back of his head nervously. “Hey, Severath.”

Severath’s arms slowly lowered as he nodded in greeting, allowing the demonlight to better illuminate his face.

Kizros hadn’t seen him since before the attack, but he’d made several potions for Balran to deliver to the demon who had been injured saving one of the other humans from the Dreadmoor.

Severath had a patch covering his right eye, and considering the state of his damaged horn, he had at least started to use some of the oils on the bone and filed down the worst of the jagged break.

“Wait, Severath?” Aofe asked, gaze darting back to the red demon. “You were one of the warriors who saved us?”

The demon swallowed, glanced at Ember so fast Kizros almost missed it, then nodded carefully.

“Thank you.” Aofe gave Severath a gentle smile. “I didn’t get a chance to say it when I woke, but you should know I’m very grateful for you and your entire patrol.”

He blinked, something like surprise passing over his features before he offered her the briefest of smiles. “Of course.”

Warmth bloomed in Kizros’s chest at that gesture. At a glance, it was simple, but Aofe probably didn’ t understand how profound acceptance and gratefulness was coming from one of their greatest and possibly most aloof warriors.

A warrior who was also still awkwardly straddling an atteapir. But as Aofe shifted on her feet, Attie bolted upright and positioned herself behind Aofe. Ember took that opportunity to inch closer to the red demon, her wary attention on the crowd of demons moving through the festival.

Severath cleared his throat, gesturing to Aofe’s crutches. “You are also a warrior who was injured in battle?”

“What?” she asked, glancing down, then laughed. “Oh, no. I was… it’s a human condition I was born with. Not a warrior. I just struggle to walk on my own.”

“Just because your fight looks different does not mean you aren’t a warrior,” Severath stated, so plainly that Kizros barely recognized the male when he also added—looking directly at Kiz while speaking to Aofe—“The flowers are pretty. They match your hair.”

Aofe blinked, and by the time everyone’s gaze had fallen on him, Kizros’s cheeks were burning. Someone cursed behind him as his tail thrashed, and to make matters worse, Attie’s six eyes were trained on him like she was moments away from abandoning Aofe to calm him down instead.

It was like taking one of Severath’s arrows to the gut.

Part of him wanted her to recognize how much he cared for her and what all his gestures meant in demon culture, like Severath had.

But if she knew, would she stop looking?

If she chose him back, was it willingly, or was she simply settling because she hadn’t seen everything else Heck had to offer ?

Kizros was trapped in an endless cycle of his own making. The guilt for keeping her, wanting her, versus the aching of showing her there were so many better options.

To no surprise, his selfish, primal desires won out. His tail curled around her hips, and he wrapped an arm gently over her shoulders.

Aofe met his gaze, something vulnerable passing through her eyes before she nestled into his embrace.

“Ember,” she said calmly as she turned, her eyes staying on Kizros until the last possible second. “Sorry we interrupted your evening with Severath. It’s nice to see you.”

The woman’s head tilted slightly as she shrugged a shoulder. “It’s my first time out.”

“I don’t like to get out much,” Aofe said, offering her a warm smile. “It’s a little hard for me to get around, but you’re welcome to visit the apothecary any time. Sit out in the greenhouse in silence or whatever. Oh, there’s this fruit, vefuricot, that is really good cold. You have to try it.”

Severath choked on his breath, eye going wide as his head whipped toward Kizros. He pointedly ignored the look, including the ones the women were now giving them.

“Yeah, I’ll have to see,” Ember finally said into the silence, offering Aofe a quick smile. “Thanks for the offer.”

“We’ll let you get back to your evening,” Kizros said to Ember, still ignoring Severath’s piercing attention. “Sorry again about Attie.”

They said their goodbyes then walked in silence to their table, which had luckily not been cleared of their purchases. Kizros didn’t have to wonder long when Aofe would finally break that fragile silence.

“Okay, I have to know,” she said, hands braced on the wooden table between them as she stared him down.

Kizros steeled himself for the potential questions. The flowers he’d been slowly matching to her hair. The show of possessiveness in front of Severath and Ember. The fruit that she was so obsessed with.

Aofe’s serious expression morphed into excitement. “Do you think they’re…” She made a crude gesture, sticking one finger in and out of a circled hand.

Kizros blinked, then snorted a laugh. “Absolutely not. Severath is in charge of gathering evidence for her murder trial, not that I think she’ll be held responsible. He’s likely been monitoring her every action, making detailed reports about everything she says, and…”

He trailed off as Aofe placed both elbows on the table, cradled her chin in her hands, and blinked innocently.

Completely unaware Attie’s tongue was stealing bits of meat off the skewer she’d set down.

Kizros rolled his eyes, but he was smiling as he shook his head. “They are absolutely fucking.”