“Of course.”
As I take his hand and we head back toward the house, it really hits me that he’s mine, and I pull his arm over my shoulder, tucking myself into his side as he drops a kiss on the top of my head.
I’m not going to let the what-ifs of the past affect this now.
It’s become abundantly clear that if I had just stayed put, then my life would have been so much different.
Having said that, I don’t necessarily regret the way that things turned out.
Yes, there would have been a whole lot less pain, infinitely less most likely, but there have been some really good parts to my life, the connections and friends I’ve made being the main ones, like Sully, Coen, and yes, Dimitri.
I’m still not sure how to deal with the fact that he could have been being controlled this whole time. There is a part of me that desperately wants to believe it, and that’s dangerous because there’s an even bigger part of me that is terrified to do so.
That’s a whole other issue though, and nothing to do with my original point which was that although there are quite a few things that I would have liked to have never experienced, several of my deaths for example, there’s also a lot that I am grateful for, and at the end of the day it all brought me here, it all made me a strong woman who is capable of taking care of herself.
It brought me home, and I don’t mean this place in particular, but rather to these men. They have quickly become my home, and I am more than okay with that.
I just hope that I don’t fuck it up.
“Oh, something smells good,” Van grins as we approach the back door and picks up speed so we can get there quicker, making me chuckle.
∞∞∞
“Where’s Ransom?” I ask at breakfast the next morning.
Doc looks around at the table and frowns, “I don’t know. He doesn’t usually miss breakfast.”
“I don’t think he went to bed last night,” Coen says. “He was still in his workroom when I got up to get a drink at three this morning.”
I frown and stand up, picking up a spare plate and loading it up with the food that I know he likes.
“I’ll go and find him and see if I can convince him to take a break for a moment.”
“You won’t have to convince him,” River smiles. “It’s you, you’ll just need to ask, and he’ll stop.”
“She probably won’t even have to ask,” Griff says with a knowing smile.
I shake my head, unable to hide my smile as I grab a coffee and then head to Ransom’s workroom.
Calling it a workroom makes it sound a hell of a lot smaller than it actually is. It’s probably not much smaller than Raiden’s library, but it’s circular in shape, which is apparently better for spells, although I didn’t get a chance to ask why. It’s also got an incredibly tall, domed ceiling, with shelves of various curiosities all throughout the room, as well as books, ingredients, and all sorts of other wonderful curiosities that reach the ceiling itself. There are even huge and complicated science thingys with Bunsen burners, vials, and doohickeys that I have no idea what they are called or what they are for.
Apparently, potion and spell making is a lot more complicated than I thought it was, and isn’t all magic. There’s some science utilized in there as well, which shouldn’t have surprised me, since I know that Doc uses a mixture of science and magic in his work as well.
When I get to the door, I realize that I have a problem, my hands are full, and I can’t knock.
“Ransom?” I call out, hoping that he’s not so absorbed in his work that he can’t hear me, or has headphones on. I like to work with headphones on, so maybe he does as well. After a moment of silence, I try again, “Ransom?”
When that still doesn’t work, I contemplate sending a thread of my fire through the keyhole to get his attention, but thankfully, at the last minute, it occurs to me that there is probably a lot of volatile and highly flammable stuff in there, and sending fire in there probably isn’t the best idea.
I resort to the only thing I can think of. I kick the door.
Finally, I hear movement behind the door, and a rumpled-looking Ransom pulls it open with a confused frown. His eyes widen as he sees me.
“Neith?” he asks, and then opens the door wider and invites me inside. “Is everything okay?”
I raise my eyebrow as I pass him his coffee and nudge him over to the couch he’s got in here, placing the plate of food on the coffee table in front of him and pointing at it.
Surprisingly, he doesn’t argue at all, and after draining his coffee, he practically falls on his food like a starving man.
