The question is, will she believe me?
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 heis.
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 panicattack, 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?”
