“I’m okay,” she said.
“You’re not. Your hands are glowing, and I can smell your fear,” he said.
She muttered a curse, staring at the soft green light radiating from her hands.
“Be cool, Cece,” she whispered. “Be cool.”
After about thirty seconds, the light faded from her hands, and she slumped against the seat, staring out the passenger window again.
“Even if us having sex made it easier for you to control the excess magic and help me become immune -”
“You won’t be entirely immune,” Cece said. “Just not as affected with time.”
“Right,” he said. “Even if those things happened, it’s not a good idea for us to have sex.”
Disappointment crashed over her, and, thanks to her exhaustion, she was immediately on the verge of tears. She fought back the tears bitterly and nodded. “Understood.”
It’s fine, Cece. You’ve spent your whole life with minimal magic and below average sex. It’s not the end of the world.
She glanced at Briggs, who was staring steadily out the windshield, his big hands gripping the steering wheel a little harder than seemed necessary.
She realized it wasn’t just the potential of magic and sex she would miss. When Briggs wasn’t being an asshole, he could actually sort of be sweet.
Sort of? He bought you groceries, bought you dinner, took you to see his friends when you were sad, fixed your ceiling light, and chopped a year’s worth of firewood for you.
Okay, fine, there were other perks to having Briggs living with her, but it’s not like they were in a relationship or something. He had done those things because he felt sorry for her, and having him do it out of pity was another fresh version of hell.
She straightened her shoulders. Relying on Briggs or the others at the security firm was a bad idea on her part anyway. She had to figure out a way to either convince these other witches to leave her alone or try to survive until Elora returned home and could help her.
Convince Briggs to change his mind. If he agrees to sex with you, your magic would probably be strong enough to protect you from the witches who are after you.
Would it? She honestly didn’t know. Doing a complicated restore spell was miles apart from protecting herself from a more powerful witch or warlock. Her magic might have been the strongest she’d ever felt last night, but she had a feeling that it wasn’t even a quarter of what she needed to keep herself safe.
It didn’t matter anyway. Briggs had chosen option two, and she wouldn’t try to change his mind. She wouldn’t be that pathetic or desperate. She had some pride.
Your pride will get you killed.
She ignored her inner voice, proud of how steady her voice was when she said, “So, do you think Mal would be open to assigning Ronin instead?”
“Assigning Ronin to what?” Briggs glanced at her in confusion.
“For my security. I’m sure Garth is very nice, but if this warlock’s protection spell isn’t powerful enough, then, as a phoenix shifter, at least Ronin has the whole ‘die and rise from the ashes’ thing, right?”
“I’m your security,” Briggs growled.
Now it was her turn to be confused. “I… no, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
He growled again, and she said, “Stop growling at me. You chose option two.”
“The fuck I did,” he said as he pulled into the parking lot of the security firm’s building.
“You did,” she said. “You said no to the sex thing, so -”
“I’m choosing option three,” he said.
“There is no option three.”
