He looks impressed that I’ve actually followed his explanation as he replies, “Yes, that’s exactly it. Each one is very much needed. I have no idea how to fix the problem, there isn’t a replacement for either one of the ingredients, and my instincts are telling me that they both have to be in there in order for the potion to complement the ward magic. Of course, my instincts are fueled by magic, so it’s being finicky and not telling me how to make it fucking work.”
I frown, “Okay, I am probably completely wrong, but if there is an ingredient that works well with both of the problem ingredients, then would it be possible that it could bridge the gap and help them work together?”
He doesn’t say anything as he just stands there and stares at me.
After a couple of minutes of it, I start to shift, “Sorry, that was probably a really stupid thing to suggest.”
He shakes his head and moves toward me, picking me up and spinning me around as he kisses anywhere he can reach, making me giggle.
“Neith, you’re a fucking genius,” he exclaims as he puts me back down and turns back to his room.
I watch in enchanted fascination as he studies the shelves, his magic floating various objects around him, as he checks the labels and then flicks his fingers, making them disappear in a flash of smoke-filled magic.
He’s doing so many different things at once, and it is utterly captivating. I simply stand there with my mouth open as I watch.
I’ve been around magic all of my life, and I spent a hellish portion of that with a warlock, and one who liked to show off, and yet I have never seen anything like the power that Ransom is throwing around.
That thought makes a memory ping, one from the hellish portion of my life, and I frown, pushing it away. I have no idea what triggered it. The thought itself wasn’t particularly triggering. It was just a simple observation that I do all the time, so I don’t know why it triggered that particular memory to resurface.
That’s something I hate. That sometimes there is no obvious fucking trigger, or it will be something that I’ve thought or done loads of times before, and yet it suddenly triggers me, and a memory will appear from nowhere and take me out.
It’s not because of anything that Ransom’s doing, I do know that much. Although it could be that I brought up the memory myself, and that’s done it. I think things like that a lot though, and it doesn’t have this effect, so fuck knows.
I try to distract myself by watching what Ransom’s doing and hoping that he’s not going to notice that I’m having a moment.
For some reason, the memory isn’t playing ball, and I’m not able to distract myself as easily as I would have hoped. Moving back over to the couch, I take a deep breath, trying to focus on pushing the memory away and reminding myself of what’s real right now.
Something I can hear, something I can feel, something I can see. When that doesn’t work, I close my eyes and focus on my breathing more.
The problem is that the more slowly I try to breathe, the faster my breathing gets, as it seems to have the opposite effect of what I want it to.
Hands touch mine, and I flinch, my eyes flying open.
“Sorry, it’s not you,” I gasp out.
I want to explain what’s happening, but I’m lucky that I managed to get those words out. There’s no way that I’m going to be able to get anything else out. Fortunately, it seems like I don’t need to, as understanding fills Ransom’s expression.
He crouches down in front of me, “I’m going to hold your hands now, okay?”
I nod.
He gently takes my hands in his, and when I squeeze his tightly, he does the same. The pressure grounding me.
His eyes connect with mine, and instead of it freaking me out like it usually would in these situations, it does the opposite, and a wave of calm washes over me.
He takes a deep breath, and without consciously choosing to do so, I do the same thing. Breathing in and out slowly, like he does.
After a few minutes, and feeling a hell of a lot calmer, I shift in my seat and move so that my head drops forward onto his chest. Without any hesitation whatsoever, he pulls me off the couch and into his arms, holding me tightly.
Safe.
That’s what I’m feeling right now, so completely fucking safe.
“Thank you,” I mutter quietly. I’m unwilling to lift my head from his chest yet, the steady beat of his heart is helping to calm me even more.
Plus, I like being held by my Ransom. It’s official, I’m claiming him as mine. I mean, I did a long time ago, but now I’ve said it’s official.
I should have some sort of ceremony.
