Chapter 15
OPHELIA
The relief is euphoric.
Until Broderick took it away, I never realized how much fear still twined through my normal level of emotions. How close I always am to panic.
The relief is addictive. What would I do to never go back to being afraid again?
Does anyone else live like that? Keep functioning despite a constant, low-level terror?
Jack might not have had my strict father, but he did spend years trapped as an animal, used as magical fuel.
Maybe that’s why everyone thinks he’s angry all the time. Maybe he is.
As often as I feel anxiety, the werewolf seems to feel rage.
And still, he’s a functioning member of society. He has a partner he loves and a full-time job in the tech department at Ramla.
But would he jump on the chance to forever rid himself of that anger?
“Ophelia?” Broderick speaks my name tentatively. “Talk to me. How are you doing?”
“I feel … light. Weightless.” And I believe him about having never worked magic on me before. Because I can’t remember a time I felt this good.
Well, other than when I was mid-orgasm.
“Is that okay?” he asks, still wary.
And I appreciate Broderick’s caution. That he doesn’t assume I’ll be grateful for his magical intervention. That he’s giving me room to figure out how I feel about this development.
“It’s okay. But …” I don’t want to keep talking. I want to simply enjoy this state of being. To never leave it.
And that’s exactly why I need to push forward.
“But?” Broderick presses.
“But this feels too good, I think.” A sigh gusts out of my chest. “I could see myself relying on it. And I don’t want that. To have to rely on you.”
Broderick’s eyes drop from mine, but not before I spy the hurt. I pinch his chin and raise his gaze.
“I didn’t mean it like that. Like I don’t trust you.
” My thumb traces over his soft bottom lip.
I love this man’s mouth so much. For all the pleasure it brings me and all the soft, caring words it speaks.
“What I meant is, I need to know I can rely on myself. I’ve never had that chance before, and I need to know I can survive on my own. Fear and all.”
While his expression stays concerned in the dim light, the witch still nods in understanding.
“I won’t ever use my magic on you unless you ask. I’ll make a blood oath if that sets you at ease.”
This man.
“I trust you. No blood oath required.” Leaning in, I brush a gentle kiss against his mouth, then pull back before going too deep. “Maybe we could have a signal. I think during a panic attack, if you’re nearby, it makes sense. There’s no willing my way through those. They take over completely.”
Broderick’s expression lightens. “Yes. Good. That sounds good.”
I fist a hand over my heart. A gesture my mother used to make when she told me she loved me. “If I do this, then I need your help. Okay?”
The witch nods, a solemn air to the dip, as if making a vow. “Okay.” He tucks some stray, sweaty hairs behind my ear. “Do you know what brought it on? Or are they random?”
My eyes flick around us, and it truly is a display of his power that I’m calm in this moment.
“The darkness. That’s why I walk at twilight.
Trying to get used to it.” With my fear dampened, I find it easier to discuss that terrible time.
“When I was trapped, the sorcerer would keep my cage in a dark room. I didn’t have much light. ”
“Gods.” Broderick rasps the word, clutching me tight against his chest. “If that bastard wasn’t dead, I’d flay him alive myself.”
A violent Broderick is kind of hot.
“I can’t believe … it’s terrifying to think … if I hadn’t gone …” He shakes his head, muttering to himself.
I reach up to finger-comb his red waves, not because they’re in his eyes, but only because I find the gesture soothing. “Hadn’t gone where?”
He gives a dry, humorless laugh. “To this random estate sale in London. Anthony was gone on a photo shoot, and I realized it had been over a year since I had seen my sisters. I was missing them, feeling lonely, and then some friends invited me to this sale. Just a lark, to see what the upper crusts owned. Not normally my thing, but I decided to join them because I had nothing else to do.”
My heart thumps, slow and heavy. “What did you find there?” I ask in a whisper.
Broderick meets my eyes, though I can’t see much of his green irises with night enveloping us.
“The grimoire,” he says with a tone of awe. “Just sitting in this old house, on a shelf. Magic spilling off it. I knew Mor was collecting them, so I bought the book and sent it to her.”
“The grimoire?” I rasp, remembering the old leather book open in front of him the night I came back to my body.
Broderick nods. “The one with the spell that freed Jack. Jack, who led us to you.”
“And you freed me too.” Now, I reach for his hand, tracing my thumb over the scar on his palm. I feel the stiff skin under the layer of fine powder he used to work magic.
The witch closes his eyes and rests his forehead against mine. “I wish I had found it sooner. That we’d found you before you spent years in the dark.”
I cup his cheeks. “You’re the reason I’m here.
” I press my lips against each of his lids.
“I don’t know if it was luck or fate, but you found exactly what you needed to.
And now, I’m here.” I kiss his cheekbones.
“And I get the chance to live.” I kiss the corners of his mouth.
“I get the chance to love. To love you.”
He sucks in a ragged breath, and then we’re kissing frantically, full of need and passion.
And a little bit of fear.
But the useful kind that pricks at you to remind you that life is finite, so take advantage of the good things when they’re in front of you.
I tear at Broderick’s clothes, leaving scorched fingerprints in the fabric. But my fire doesn’t hurt him, only makes the man groan and beg.
“I’m yours,” he pants. “Tell me to do anything, and I’ll do it.”
“Lie back,” I command. “I’m going to take you slow until I figure this out.”
When I fantasized about having sex with Broderick, I never imagined my knees would be pressing into dead leaves and I’d have an audience of stars above me.
But I wouldn’t change a single detail.
Not how he restrains himself, like I told him. Not how heated his cock is when I slip him from his pants. Not how the muscles in his neck strain as I use the tip of him to stroke through my damp arousal.
And not the way he whimpers when I pause and say, “Do you see my purse anywhere? I think I dropped it. There’s a pack of condoms.”
The internet also taught me a lot about sex ed.
“We can look for it,” Broderick offers in a strained voice. “But so you know, I have a contraceptive tattoo. On my hip. Still, I understand if you need more than that.”
Well, that’s something I didn’t learn about online. Thank the gods for magic.
“I trust you.” And I make sure to meet his eyes as I say so, loving the way his brows rise in wonder.
Broderick is tight at first. Or I am. Either way, it takes some time to work his length into me. But I put in the effort, and my well-behaved witch stays prone, his fingers tangled in his hair as he rattles off curses and prayers to the gods.
I’ve never felt more in control.
Then, I finger my clit until I’m grinding and squeezing and crying out his name.
And I’ve never felt more out of control.
“Amazing. So gods-damn amazing,” Broderick groans, and I can feel him trying to see me in the darkness.
As pleasure pulses through my nerves, I allow a touch of my fire out.
Just enough to glow.
“Hold me,” I command.
Instantly, he’s upright, his arms wrapping tight around my torso, his lips dragging down my neck and along my collarbone. Broderick rocks his hips, thrusting up into me and prolonging my orgasm—or maybe starting a new one.
All I know is that when he shouts my name, movements erratic, I join him in the euphoria.
Even better than my freedom from fear.