Page 30 of Deadly Reckoning (Broken Ashes #7)

Neith

“T hat’s just distilled water,” he replies with a smile.

I end up going around the room asking him what a lot of things are, and there’s a good mix of fairly normal things like the distilled water and then things like essence of fire, which is all glowy and pretty, and I have to force myself not to touch it.

I have to assume that it wouldn’t be a good idea to touch it.

Eventually, he relaxes enough that he starts to talk about the wards and explain what he’s putting into the potion that he wants to use to back up the magic ward so that it moves with us, is undetectable by everything, and we can just top it up every now and then rather than having to go through the process of putting it on every time that we leave the house or go somewhere.

We don’t want to be in the middle of a job, undercover or something, and have to stop to redo the ward.

I have no idea what he was talking about earlier because listening to him talk about this sort of thing is far from boring.

It’s really interesting, and although I know I shouldn’t be, I am truly surprised at just how clever he is.

The way that his mind works, and how he puts things together in a way that no one else would, is quite honestly sexy as fuck.

“So you’re going to put all of our magic into the potion part of the spell?” I ask.

“Yeah, that’s the plan,” he replies.

“It doesn’t need to be tailored to us as individuals?”

He shakes his head, “No. In this instance, because I want the ward to be as strong as it possibly can be, it's better if all of our magic is in it because we’re fucking strong, and it will make the wards so much stronger having all of our magic in the ward rather than just one of our magics. If that makes sense?”

I nod, “Yes, that makes sense. So the problem is that two of the ingredients seem to be clashing, but you don’t know why, and they both play a really important part that no other ingredient can do, so you can’t get rid of either of them?”

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.

Wait, wouldn’t that be a wedding?

Thankfully, Ransom speaks and pulls me out of my thoughts that were most definitely spiraling.

“I didn’t do anything,” he replies. “Are you okay?”

“You did,” I reply firmly. “I’m okay. I don’t even know what set that one off, then. Those are the worst ones as far as I’m concerned, at least I have some sort of warning when it's an obvious trigger.”

I’m sort of rambling a little bit, I’m not really sure why.

Other than the fact that I am normally rambling.

Ransom makes a humming sound that vibrates his chest and is weirdly comforting as he nods, “I once had one at a hockey game. There was literally nothing there that could possibly have triggered it. To this day, I’m still unsure whether it was a smell, or a sound, or what, but I completely agree that the panic attacks that literally attack you out of nowhere are the absolute worst.”

“I hate that you understand, but I’m also glad that you didn’t freak out because I was freaking out, because it would have made it so much worse.”

He chuckles, “Yes, it would have.” Pausing, he holds me tighter for a moment and asks gently, “Do you want to talk about it? I know you don’t know what triggered it, but I’m here if you do want to talk.”

I open my mouth to tell him no, and then hesitate. I don’t want to tell him everything, I don’t think I ever will want to tell anyone everything, but I do want to tell him something, which is an unexpected feeling.

“You know, when I had the panic attack at the Choosing?” I ask.

He tenses, “Yeah.”

“Most of my panic attacks are to do with that time in my life. Not all of them, my life has not been easy, but most of them are from then. He was a warlock, but he relied on stolen magic. He knew what I could do,” I explain, and then stop, I don’t want to get into the whole dying thing.

Ransom is fucking awesome because he doesn’t push me for more information like most people would be tempted to do. He just listens, and that’s all I needed at that moment. If he were to push me right now, it would ensure that I would most likely never open up about that time in my life again.

After a moment, he says, “Thank you for telling me. If you ever want to talk about it more, then I’m here for you. No pressure, no questions. I will just listen.”

I lean forward and kiss him, “Thank you.”

“Would you like a distraction now?”

“Yes, please,” I reply gratefully.

“You were right,” he starts.

“I usually am,” I interrupt, making him chuckle. “Remind me though, what was I right about this time?”

“That there was an ingredient that I could add to the mixture that would bridge the gap between the two elements that aren’t doing what they’re supposed to be doing and are instead fighting each other,” Ransom exclaims and I can hear the excitement in his voice, and the relief, now that he’s figured out a way to fix the issue.

“That’s awesome,” I exclaim with a broad smile as I shift so that I can see him, reluctantly moving my head from his chest.

He grins, “It is, and I never would have thought of it without you pointing it out.”

“Sure you would have,” I reply, then smirk as I add, “just not as quickly.”

He chuckles and then looks around at all of the shelves that surround us, “The only thing is, I don’t have it here.”

“Is it difficult to get hold of?” I ask with a frown. That would be typical.