Levi laid her gently on the couch, brushing her damp hair out of her face. Her breathing was shallow, skin slightly cold. She looked like she had seen death. Maybe she did.
"She's burning up," he muttered.
Oscar walked in quietly, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. "You scared the poor girl half to death."
"She asked for it," Levi snapped, not looking at him.
Oscar raised a brow. "She asked you to throw her off a cliff?"
Levi said nothing.
Oscar sighed and walked closer. "Was it worth it? Showing her that side of you so soon?"
Levi sat down on the armrest beside her, rubbing his forehead like the weight of it all had just caught up with him. "She had to know... who I am. What I can become."
"You didn't have to throw her off a damn cliff, Levi."
Levi's fingers tightened into a fist. "She said she trusted me. I wanted to know if it was true."
Oscar scoffed. "And if she died? Then what? You going to brood over her corpse like a tragic poem?"
Levi looked up at him. His eyes weren't glowing now, but something darker sat behind them. "I wouldn't let her die."
Oscar stared at him for a moment, then looked down at Alexa, still unconscious, her chest rising and falling faintly. "That girl's different, huh?"
Levi didn't answer. He just stared at her.
"Her heart's too human for this world, Levi," Oscar added softly. "Careful not to break it before she even learns how to guard it."
Levi looked away.
"I'll get her some water," Oscar said quietly, then left the room.
Levi leaned back, his hand brushing over Alexa's necklace again—the same one that haunted his memories.
Levi touched her neck again and frowned. "She's burning."
At that moment, Oscar walked back in with a glass of water. Without a word, Levi took it from him and poured a bit across Alexa's forehead. She winced, her body shifting slightly.
"This should reduce the burning," Levi muttered.
Oscar stared at him, then snatched the glass from Levi's hand, shaking his head with a smirk tugging at his lips like he couldn't help himself. "You serious right now?"
Levi's eyes narrowed. "What?"
Oscar tried not to laugh. "She's human, Cross. She's not cursed. She has a fever. She needs medicine, not a water bath like a dying demon."
Levi paused, blinked, and then slowly rubbed his forehead with one hand, his other still braced on the couch. A dry smirk broke across his lips as he shook his head, almost to himself.
"Pathetic human," he muttered, almost like an insult… but there was something else in his voice too.
Then he turned without another word and strode toward the wall cabinet. He pulled it open, rummaging for the medkit.
Oscar watched him, amusement still dancing in his eyes. "You really have no clue how to handle a fever, do you?"
"I've never had to keep one of them alive before," Levi said flatly, tossing the box onto the table and opening it.
Oscar chuckled. "Well, welcome to caregiving 101."
Levi glanced back at Alexa on the couch, her face still pale, hair damp against her cheeks.
This wasn't how tonight was supposed to go.
Alexa murmured his name again in her sleep, voice low and trembling.
"Levi..."
He stood still, arms folded, staring at her flushed face. She was shivering, despite the sweat on her skin.
He moved closer, picked up the light blanket folded on the arm of the couch, and gently laid it over her. Her breath hitched slightly, but she didn't wake.
"She's burning up," he muttered, brushing a strand of wet hair from her face. He lingered for a moment, then straightened and turned away.
His footsteps were slow as he made for the door, muttering to himself,
"She can't even handle a little fall without collapsing. Pathetic."
He pulled on a hoodie, grabbed his keys, and stepped outside into the fading light.
"This is ridiculous," he said under his breath as he walked down the quiet street, eyes dark, jaw tight. "A demon buying fever meds for a human girl. What the hell am I doing?"
But he didn't stop.
As he neared the pharmacy, the bell above the glass door jingled when he stepped inside. The place was quiet, cool, with rows of shelves packed with pills and boxes he had no patience to read.
He walked up to the counter, looked the sleepy pharmacist dead in the eye and said flatly,
"She has a fever. High. What do I need?"
The man blinked at him. "Uh… adult? How old?"
"Early twenties," Levi replied.
"Any allergies?"
"No," he said without thinking. Then paused. "I think."
He left the shop a few minutes later with a paper bag in one hand and a mind full of questions he had no time for.
As he walked back home, he glanced at the bag, then shook his head and chuckled quietly.
"Human nonsense," he said, but held the bag tighter. "Still…"
He looked up at the sky.
"She better wake up."
She hadn't moved.
Her neck had tilted back, lips parted slightly as she snored in short, shallow breaths. Sweat clung to her forehead, her cheeks flushed red.
Levi knelt beside her, slipped one hand gently behind her back and raised her up a little. Her head lolled back, neck exposed, mouth still slightly open.
"Alexa," he called, voice low but firm. No response.
He sighed, glancing at her face, then tapped her cheek—not too soft.
Nothing.
So he slapped her again, sharper this time. Her skin reddened faintly, and she winced, groaning.
Her lashes fluttered, and her blurry eyes blinked halfway open.
"Take your medicine," Levi said flatly, slipping the pills between her lips before she could argue.
She made a faint sound of protest, but he tilted her head gently and brought a glass of water to her mouth.
"Swallow it, Alexa," he ordered, eyes locked on hers.
She coughed a little, but swallowed. Slowly. Grudgingly.
Then her head dropped back against his arm again, her breath evening out just a little.
Levi exhaled through his nose, sliding his arm away and setting the glass down.
"Fragile thing," he muttered, standing. "You're lucky I came back."
But he didn't move far. He stayed within reach, arms crossed, watching her sleep with that unreadable expression—something between annoyance and something else he didn't want to name.
*****
Alexa blinked her eyes open slowly, the heavy weight of sleep still clinging to her limbs. Her head throbbed faintly, but it was quieter now. She swung her legs off the couch carefully and stood up, the cold air brushing her skin as she tiptoed forward.
Downstairs, she spotted Oscar at the table, scribbling something in a black notebook, completely focused. He didn't even look up.
She kept walking. She needed the bathroom—but paused midway up the stairs.
The scent hit her first. Something warm, spicy, almost soothing in the air. Chicken. Pepper. Ginger?
She turned her head toward the kitchen and found Levi there, sleeves rolled up, standing by the stove, steam rising around him like smoke off a volcano.
Alexa blinked.
She whispered to herself, "Since when did the devil start cooking soup?"
"You should be in bed," Levi said, not even turning around.
Alexa flinched slightly, caught. "I know," she said, bouncing on her heel, "but that smell's killing my sleep hormones."
He let out a low chuckle, pulled the pot off the fire, and poured a bowl of soup.
She watched as he set it on a tray, picked it up smoothly, then walked to her and—without a word—took her burning wrist.
"Come on."
She followed, slightly flushed, saying nothing. They entered her room, and he guided her to the bed, laying her down gently. He propped her head up with a pillow before setting the bowl on her lap.
"Open your mouth," he said—like it was an order.
Alexa narrowed her eyes. "I'm not a baby, Levi. Come on."
She took the spoon from his hand.
He didn't argue. Just stepped back, his tone cool but teasing. "Don't let me see any scrap left in that bowl."
He made it to the door, paused, then looked over his shoulder.
"Have a good rest, Xandria."
Then he left, the sound of his footsteps fading into the hall.
Alexa sat there quietly for a moment, staring after him. Then she scooped a spoonful of the steaming soup into her mouth.
"Damn. That's actually good," she muttered.
*******
Levi walked quietly to his room, the hallway dim with just a sliver of moonlight leaking in through the window. It was past midnight. The house was silent. Even the wind outside seemed to hold its breath.
He pushed his door open, stepped in, and didn't bother turning on the light. The room was dark, heavy. He dropped himself onto the bed, lying on his back. One leg stretched out, the other bent up at the knee. His left arm lay across his chest, while the other bent up, palm resting on his forehead.
He stared into the shadows on the ceiling. His jaw tightened.
"This is getting messy," he muttered under his breath. "Too messy."
He dragged in a slow breath, but it did nothing to calm the storm building in his chest. His thoughts spun back to her—Alexa. Her pale skin burning with fever, her lips slightly parted, the way she said his name in her sleep like it hurt.
"I didn't ask for this," he said lowly. "You weren't supposed to matter."
Silence.
His fingers brushed over his own chest, right where he'd felt that strange, aching pull earlier—when she'd nearly collapsed and he caught her like instinct. Like reflex. Like something ancient buried deep inside him recognized her.
He exhaled slowly. Closed his eyes.
"Damn it, Alexa…"