Page 126 of Obsidian and Frost
It had gone from everything seeming like it was lost when I’d seen him so sick and desiccated last night to this. To this openness, to me being with Velra, her growing closer to him, and now me and Sylas having all this out too.
Despite how it had looked like it had been all heading to hell, it had actually strengthened things.
I just wished we hadn’t needed to get to this point through a whole lot of pain.
“Do I need to do damage control?” he asked, after taking a sip from his tea.
“Damage control?”
“There’s blood over my couch. Did you—”
“Take it too far? No. She wanted it that way.”
“She tapped into her darker predilections?”
“Yeah.”
“Hmm.”
“What?”
“She did that to break the spell protecting my serum in the nightstand. And she would have needed to do that yet again in order to breach my ward to come back in here last night.”
“And? She’s embracing what she’s always been too afraid to.”
“I agree that it’s a positive thing. But it’s also something to keep an eye on.”
“Don’t fucking mention that to her. She’s come so far. She actually let go last night. And she was so happy doing it. She told me after that she felt so free. Nothing’s gonna fuck with that. Nothing and no one.”
“As you wish.” His eyes flicked toward Velra, then he put his tea down and rose to his feet. “Let me rustle up some breakfast. I’m sure you’re both famished.”
I looked at Velra sleeping peacefully, then followed him toward the kitchen. “And you? How are you feeling now? Your magic seems to be back up, because I’m not sensing the sickness now. And you look—”
“Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed?” he asked with a grin over his shoulder.
“I was gonna say like your usual smoking hot, powerhouse self.”
“Mmm… I like that a great deal better.”
He ran his tongue over his bottom lip—definitely intentionally—and it had my eyes flicking right there.
But as I leaned into him, I caught sight of something in the kitchen that had me pulling up short.
A whole drug operation was taking place in one half of the kitchen, all over an old table, floating all around it. Concoctions of that same milky liquid with the crimson flecks being produced, stirred, and poured and sealed into vials and syringes, the mini-production line being carried out by some sort of spell.
“What the—this wasn’t here before.”
He walked into the kitchen and I followed, my gaze darting all around.
“It was. I had it glamored. But given your insistence on transparency where my sickness is concerned, I lifted the spell.”
“How is this happening? It’s moving rapid-fire. How do you keep it going, especially in your moments of… uh…”
“Weakness?”
“I wouldn’t call it that.”
“I would,” he muttered bitterly. But before I could speak to it, he went on, “Kai kindly had Ariana Martel imbue the process with Celestial magic, enabling it to continue on without the need for a reprieve.”
