Page 5 of Charmed and Dangerous

Maeve nodded. “I took one of my detoxifying teas and I’m feeling much better, thank you.”

She felt a gaze on her and she turned to see Saul Grimsbane smirking at her from beside the judges’ table. A tall, willowy woman with honey blond hair came up next to him and leaned against him, doing everything but wrap herself around him. Her hand with long, pointed nails stroked his arm, and she eyed him like he was one of the honey buns from his bakery. Felicia Borges. A bear shifter from another family in town. She never came into the shoppe, but everyone knew her. She was on the prowl for her next mate since her first one escaped, or died. Depended on your perspective. An overwhelming desire to rip off the other woman’s sharpened nails and drive them intoher overly made-up eyes swept over Maeve, but she resisted it. Barely.

Saul extricated himself from the woman’s grasp and stepped back. He caught Maeve’s eyes and winked. She shivered at the heat in his gaze and glanced away.

“Saul seems to have warmed up to you. Anything we should know?” Phoebe asked, her own gaze following Maeve’s. Fleur and Tempest crowded around Maeve and stared at Saul, who scowled and turned away.

“I literally have no idea.”

The mayor and the head of the BrewFest, Hilda Digby, ascended the dais and a minotaur bellowed for everyone’s attention. The crowd slowly quieted and everyone focused on Hilda, who explained the rules and asked everyone who was not brewing a potion to vacate the brewing area. Maeve wished her friends well and headed for the spectator area where she found a quiet area under a tree and pulled out her mother’s notebook and lost herself in the memories.

Her mother had been the best potions master she knew. Maeve had spent hours out here in this greenhouse watching her work. Her mother had explained every plant to her and every potion as she made them. Maeve tried to remember them all, but her mother always said, never rely on memory. So she wrote it all down in her grimoire. In many cases, grimoires were for spells, but her mother’s was mostly a recipe book. Maeve was working her way through the book, learning each recipe and perfecting many of them, as some didn’t seem to work as well as her mother had hoped. Or maybe Maeve wasn’t as good a witch as her mother and didn’t have the magic her mother did, so she needed to work harder.

After a couple of hours, and no explosions or screaming later, Maeve was summoned back to the festival to begin the judging. She received her number and realized she was unlucky numberthirteen, right next to the ginormous Saul Grimsbane. He was sitting in his chair, and half in hers, a shit-eating grin on his face. She dropped her head and sighed. Who had she pissed off to be saddled with him? First, he acted like he hated her, then she couldn’t get rid of him.

She stood next to her chair. “Please move over so I can sit?”

“There’s plenty of room for a bitty thing like you.” He lifted his big ass arm from the chair and gestured to it.

She sighed again, resigned to a long morning with Saul next to her. She slid into the chair, being careful not to touch him, but she could feel the heat radiating off his body. His delicious masculine scent teased her senses, inciting a slow burn in her belly. She shifted her seat but only came up next to the werewolf next to her, who gave her an appraising look. She shrank back and Saul dropped his arm around her again. She left it there, feeling more secure all of a sudden. The werewolf looked at Saul for a long moment, then nodded and turned away.

She narrowed her gaze at Saul, feeling like she missed something. “What was that about?”

He shrugged. “Just setting boundaries. Always a good thing to do with other predators.”

“I. Am. Not. Prey.”

He leaned in so close that she could see gold flecks in the brown of his eyes. “But you squeak like one, little mouse. I will protect you.”

And he turned his attention back to the proceedings as if the matter was settled. She gave a huff but paid attention to the announcer.

The categories for the entries were human, plant, and animal enhancement potions. This initial round was for the human potions. In front of each of them was a glass jar with a clear liquid of all-purpose antidote and three bezoars, in case the antidote didn’t work quickly enough.

Before a potion was given to any tester, it was assessed for its lethal nature. No potion was supposed to be deadly, but mistakes had been known to happen. So, all potions had a rigorous testing process to ensure no unexpected deaths occurred. Only then was a potion given to a tester. Then a series of questions or actions were given to the tester to see how they reacted, which would then ascertain if the potion worked or not. No tester knew which potion they were given or its purpose.

Maeve hated this part, but because she was an expert in potions and herbology, she was always asked to volunteer as a tester. Besides, someone had to represent the Whisper family, and her father certainly wouldn’t do it. He wouldn’t risk his valuable time or any threat to his genius.

The first potion was placed in front of all the testers. It was a deep red, almost like blood. She tentatively sniffed it and caught a metallic hint, like copper. She wrinkled her nose. Saul grunted next to her.

“Blood. They should be careful with vampires on the panel. Hope they fed before they came here.” He downed it in one large gulp, a grimace on his face.

She sighed and took her own sip, then finished it and shuddered. The Rathbone brothers, three handsome men, stood across the way, eyeing the reaction of the judges. Maeve resisted the urge to scowl at them. The potion could have been smoother. The judges began testing them with games of chance with mostly positive results, so clearly this was a luck potion. They took the antidote and started the process all over again with the next potion.

Saul leaned over. “I wish one of them would invent something for stomach upset.”

“I make a mean peppermint and chamomile tea for that,” she replied before she thought about it.

Saul grinned. “Is that an offer, mouse?”

She narrowed her gaze. “No. It’s what I’ll be having after this. You can go find your own.”

He mock pouted at her. “And here I thought we were becoming friends.”

She rolled her eyes and focused on the next potion. It was a dark chartreuse. It looked smooth, smelled like fried tomatoes, and seemed to be easily drinkable. That was saying something because sometimes potions were as thick as stiff oatmeal.

She sniffed again, then took a sip. The taste was familiar though she couldn’t quite place where she knew it from. Then she drank the rest. Saul had downed his in one gulp with a small grimace, like it was a shot of tequila. Maeve caught the Duprees watching carefully, and she surmised it must have been their potion. The testers began their questions with Saul and he leaned forward to answer them.

The werewolf next to her laid a hand on her shoulder and began stroking down her back, getting awfully close to her ass. She took his hand and firmly placed it back in his lap. “Excuse me. No touching.”

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