“Mara?” Dax repeats, scrubbing his face with his tattooed fingers.

“Yeah, does the name mean anything to you? Because it doesn’t to me.”

Dax shoots up out of the bed and begins pacing around the room. “Fuck, fuck. Fuck!” he shouts. Fez is so done with the conversation as I rub his chin and he slithers back to his cozy, warm enclosure.

“Dax?”

“She’s why I’m in Hallowsdeep.”

“Okay?”

“She’s a demon who has been possessing people and leaving a serious body count and worse behind. Asmo and I have been tasked with bringing her back to Hell.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“Exactly. Fuck. What does she want with you? This is bad.” His pacing doesn’t stop as his fingers rake through his dark hair. The few gray hairs around his temples seem more prevalent tonight. He seems worried and I don’t like it, but I also can’t help the warm feeling wrapping around my heart around someone being concerned for me.

I stand up and I’m wobbly. Dax is quickly next to me, grabbing my arm and helping me sit back down on the bed. My comforter rustling around my body, my hands against the soft fabric, supporting my weight as I sit up.

“Why would a demon want me?” I rub my temple and groan.

“I don’t know, but we’re going to fucking find out.”

I rub my head, a migraine forming right behind my right eye. The kind that makes you want to sedate yourself or scoop out your fucking eyeball.

“Babe, you okay?”

“My head hurts,” I say, not liking the vulnerability in my voice.

“Let’s take care of you. You need more sleep. We can talk in the morning.”

“Dax?”

“Yeah, babe?” he says as he opens my drawers, getting me comfy clothes.

“Why were you at Hex tonight?”

“We can talk about it tomorrow.”

“No, we can talk about it now.” I pout, with my arms crossed and my lower lip protruding. It’s slightly pathetic, I’ve never been so petulant in my life.

He gives me a stern look. “Listen, little witch, I’m not going to spank your perfect ass when you aren’t feeling well. But I will do it when you’re feeling better. I told you we would talk tomorrow when you aren’t recovering. Now let me take care of you. Got it?”

I sigh but nod my head.

“Arms up,” he says, and I listen. He removes my shirt and bra and puts my large Fleetwood Mac shirt on. He gets to his knees and slides off my shoes before his hands glide up my thighs and he rolls my skirt off. “These fucking skirts are going to kill me.”

I giggle and then wince at the feeling of my head pounding. Dax stands and cups my jaw. “Is the migraine from today or something else?”