Page 8 of How Not to Charm Your Human Colleague (Falling for Demons #2)

MISSING

Kizros

A ofe didn’t leave her room the next day.

Kizros had gone upstairs as soon as he’d gotten rid of Tholvich, but she hadn’t answered her chamber door. Hadn’t come out for dinner. Hadn’t made a single noise all night.

When he’d knocked on her door yesterday morning to deliver breakfast, he’d heard the lie in her voice through the wall separating them.

“My monthly bleed came early. I think the demon realm is making it worse.”

All day, he’d twisted that lie over and over in his head, letting his guilt fester low in his gut. Then he’d tossed and turned all night just to find her locked away again the following morning, no sounds escaping her room.

No, it wasn’t her monthly bleed; he would have smelled her blood. And even if he’d wanted to place the blame on Tholvich for the disrespect he’d shown, maybe abhor violence a smidge less, he didn’t think that was the only reason she’d left.

Kizros sat at the front counter, leg bouncing as he ignored the empty shop. He had his books out in front of him, one with his financials, the other a human compendium that he’d dragged out from his back shelves.

Aofe had called his staring rude, but now it was serving him well.

Something about her peachy skin losing that flush reminded him of the demons who lost their magic.

While their skin lost color to a heartbreaking gray, they never lost vigor.

It seemed that Aofe’s body was leeching color and life, and nothing in his books had prepared him for this.

But he noticed. He noticed the tremor in her hands, her difficulty in grinding some of the tougher components.

He remembered her flinch of pain when he’d patted her shoulder, and the winces she sometimes disguised with a smile he was starting to figure out might not be so composed after all.

Not to mention how she seemed to lean more heavily on her crutches instead of just using them for stabilization.

Maybe she needed better crutches? Or perhaps he wasn’t giving her the right nourishment. He’d made sure the meals they’d cooked were full of meats, veggies, and fruit, and she’d done well to eat them all .

Could she have been lying about the freckles? What if they were some illness she was disguising? Or had the healers missed something more critical that the slavers had done to her?

Anger burned in his gut, unfamiliar and sickening, but present enough to have him shoving away from the counter. He needed to move, to think . Come up with some plan to bring color back to his tiny human.

He locked up the shop, watered Tim and the others on the shelves, then did another quick inventory check. By the time he’d walked the aisles and gotten his final tally, he knew what he’d do.

Kizros took the steps two at a time, concerned but not surprised to find that Aofe had once again not left her room.

He grabbed an assortment of food from the icebox—a selection of meats and cheeses he’d seen her snacking on, the vefuricot—which he tried not to think too hard about her enjoying but had gone and harvested half a dozen more for her anyway—and two glasses of water.

Tray full, he stopped outside her doorway and rapped a knuckle against the jamb. “Aofe?”

No answer, and no noise either.

Kizros leaned closer, keeping his horn from scratching the door as he strained to listen. There was an inhale, slightly wobbled, and then an exhale, and he let out a breath with her.

Still breathing, that was good.

He stared down at the tray in his hands, debating. Even demons liked privacy, and he’d promised Aofe that other than delivering clothing the first night, he would never encroach on her space. But…

She hadn’t left her room in two days. Hadn’t eaten. If she was ill, he… he was responsible for her, right? For protecting her and helping her create a new home? So, entering to deliver food was just part of the agreement he’d signed. And if she was fine, he could deal with her wrath. If she wasn’t…

That was the only argument Kizros needed for himself as he twisted the handle and let it silently creep open.

Her window was open to the street beyond, the setting moon letting the thinnest beam of moonlight into the room while the starlit sky highlighted the rest. It didn’t surprise him at how clean everything was—bare floors and her two set of boots lined up by the door.

There was a small stack of clothing on the wardrobe next to the bathing chamber, presumably for changing after a bath, but there were very few other signs of someone living in the space.

Finally, his eyes landed on the lump of blankets and a small twist in Kiz’s chest eased as he watched it rise and fall with her breath.

Sleeping. Sleeping was… good. He’d questioned her ability to properly rest before, but it was nice to see that she did close her eyes once in a while.

Kizros crept inside on silent feet, the grace of a demon practiced in weaving through and around shelves of glass and sometimes snapping plants. There was an empty glass on her bedside table, which he removed with his tail before quietly setting the tray down.

There , he thought, taking the glass into his hands. Now when she wakes, she won’t have to go far for food.

It was completely unintentional that he turned toward the bed as he spun to leave.

There was a bright spot of blue hair against the white linens, a little sweaty from her pale, hornless forehead.

The blankets were tucked up to her chin, her body wrapped around the edges as she clung to them in her sleep.

Even in a state that should have been peaceful, her body shook and face pinched every so often like she was uncomfortable.

Kizros stepped back. It’s not like he wanted to be rude and stare at her when she was sleeping, but…

It was just to check on her, right? To make sure she was okay and not turning completely gray. And it wouldn’t hurt if he pulled up a chair, just to monitor, because he wasn’t sure humans were supposed to leak so much and not replenish that liquid for two days.

He’d barely counted the gold jewelry on her rounded ear when Aofe let out a whimper. Her forehead wrinkled, eyes squishing tighter, and then a shiver wracked her whole body.

“Aofe?” Kiz asked, standing up so fast that the chair flew back. Even with crashing noise, she didn’t stir. “Aofe?”

She stayed shivering, lips parting over a word that, without his keen hearing, he wouldn’t have deciphered.

“Hurts.”

Well, it came out as more of a hzz , but Kizros made some assumptions.

“Fuck, okay,” he stammered, looking around. He could grab her crutches, even lift her and carry her to a healer, but…

Balran was across town. He’d have to jostle Aofe in his arms to get there, and getting a ride wasn’t a guarantee. But…

“Hold on, Aofe,” he said, already running.

Kizros nearly fell down the stairs in his rush, sprinting to the back of his shop and snagging a vial from the back shelf.

He’d warned Aofe away from it, but he’d seen some of the pain-relieving potions she’d been making.

If those had been intended for her—the other ones she’d made for the humans hadn’t set for their full potency—then this would be plenty in a controlled dose.

He was back upstairs in less than two minutes, but it felt like a lifetime before he burst back into her room. Her shivers hadn’t gotten worse, which was both relieving and concerning as he knelt next to the bed and pulled out the dropper.

“Aofe,” he urged, tugging the blanket away from where she had pulled it over her lips. “I know you told me I can’t go around asking to look at your tongue, but I need to look at your tongue.”

She grumbled what was definitely nonsense and scrunched her nose .

“No, no, you’re so good at following instructions. You need to do this for me.”

“It hurts,” Aofe whispered deliriously, but kept her mouth open, which was good enough for him to work with.

“You should have told me,” he whispered, reaching out to wipe some of her blue hair off her sweaty temple. The other hand slipped the dropper into her mouth, and before she could yank away, he emptied it and pulled it back out. “Swallow.”

She did.

“Good girl.” His thumb continued to rub her forehead, and now he could feel her warmth under his skin. Usually, she was a touch cooler than him, but now they were almost matched in temperature. “You have a fever, Aofe.”

Her brows pinched, and he could tell she still wasn’t fully awake when she said, “Don’t be mad at me, please.”

Kizros leaned forward, uncaring of the sweat as he pressed his forehead to hers in relief. “I’m not mad, Aofe. I just want to know these things so I can help. You shouldn’t have to hurt or push through pain because you think I’m going to be mad.”

She hummed contentedly, face turning into his palm as he continued to stroke her hair. Her eyes were still closed as she mumbled, “Are you staring at me?”

“Yes.”

Her dry lips twitched into a smile.

“That’ll kick in soon, and you need to eat something when you wake up again,” he instructed, and then, because she likely wouldn’t remember any of this, he whispered, “Please take care of yourself. I miss your company.”

Kizros realized he missed a lot about the human, even if she was just in the other room.

He’d gotten so accustomed to an empty workroom, he often forgot he wasn’t alone until she stepped into the doorway.

Then, he remembered how joyful it was to have someone to talk to who actually listened and cared.

Or, gave the impression she cared. Tholvich had seemed friendly, at least until he’d pulled the rug out from under Kiz’s feet with his betrayal.

“You’re so warm,” Aofe mumbled under his hand that had absently moved to stroke her cheek. “It’s cold here.”

“What?” he asked, finger stilling.

“I miss…” she trailed off, body relaxing in a soft breath, but he caught the tail end of her whisper.

The sun .

Kizros would have smacked himself in the forehead if his fingers hadn’t frozen, still tangled in her hair.

He was a fucking idiot.

Sunlight. Humans needed sunlight . They were like his bred flowers, needing the sun to stretch their leaves and petals toward warmth.

No wonder Aofe was always in a long sleeve, sometimes with a shirt underneath. No wonder she had been so concerned about their daymoon. No wonder there was a massive pile of blankets on her bed that she’d collected from the linen closet .

An idea bloomed in the back of his mind, and he slowly slipped his fingers from her hair.

She let out a whimper and a mumbled stay that tugged at something in his chest.

“Sleep, Aofe. I’ll make this right.”

With one last gentle brush of his knuckle over her cheek, he retrieved another blanket and extra pillows, nestled them around her, then went downstairs to get to work.