Page 22 of Cursed By the Love Witch

My sleep is already restless enough; I don’t need to add my memories to it. Last night, I was consumed with thoughts of Bael. In dreams, I reached for him and felt the weight of his body against mine. The warmth of his hands caressed me as his deep voice spoke soft words of adoration. I had awoken sweating through my nightgown. Throwing open the windows to my room and letting in the chilly night air had barely helped.

His purple eyes watched me, feeling like a physical touch along my body. It was as if he was calling to me in my mind—urging me to join him in his dreams. When I woke again, my sheets were tangled around my waist, and my heart was pounding.

Even now, I can feel him watching me. Calling out to me and?—

“You seem distracted,” Prue comments.

I glance up at her and offer a sheepish smile.

“Lots on my mind,” I say. “Graduation.”

“Speaking of, did you ever decide what you would do about the High Warlock?”

I still at her question.

“What—uh, what do you mean?”

Prue’s dark brows lower. “Your grade. Did you ask him for help like I suggested?”

I nearly sag with relief.

“Oh! Yes, I did. He’s going to let me retake the exams.”

My friend’s mouth parted slightly.

“Really?”

I nod. “The prospect of me failing and having to repeat the course was probably enough incentive for him to let me try again. Spare us both the agony of being around each other any longer.”

“Hmm. Well, that’s good. Zander mentioned that he seemed different when he saw him yesterday evening. Maybe the end of the semester has improved his mood.”

“Different, how?” I ask.

Prue waves dismissively and plucks a piece of coffee cake from the basket.

“Zander said he seemed lighter. Whatever that means.” She shrugs, cracking open the baked good and watching the steam rise. “I’m glad we only missed one class. I’ll be playing catch-up before our trip next weekend. It's good that we had our little mishap with the sleeping potion now and not next week. I don’t think Zander would’ve taken missing out onthe Bogtoo well.”

I wrinkle my nose. I had nearly forgotten all about our end-of-the-year trip tothe Bog. We were supposed to use our fieldskills to secure one of the rare ingredients needed for our final exam. Our final test would be crafting theDead Man’s Serum, a highly valuable and convoluted potion. If I can improve my previous exam grades, failing the potion won’t ruin my ability to pass.

“I hate that place,” I mutter.

“But an overnight trip off school property? Now that sounds like fun.”

“Only because you’ll be sneaking into Zander’s tent,” I laugh.

Her eyes glint as she wiggles her brows at me.

An overnight trip with Bael. Goddess, that is an unnecessary risk. Hopefully, by that point, the potion will have faded significantly. If a week goes past with no change, I’ll craft him an antidote myself. Hopefully, it won’t come to that. I’ll just have to keep my wits about me until then.

Having heady dreams about him isn’t helping the situation.

Neither is the ease in which it is to flirt with him. There is a wretched, reckless part of me that longs to tease him as if we are true lovers. After all, that’s one of the most exciting parts of being in love—the beginning, where everything is new and you can learn about each other. Bael seems cold and standoffish, yet the heat I feel from him sets me on fire. I like playing with it—tempting him even if I shouldn’t.

Again, I hope that if he sees me as an eager participant, he will be too embarrassed to broach the subject again once the potion fades. He will end it, and we will never speak of it or each other again.

Even as I think it, I can’t help but feel a pang of sadness.

If I am already going this mushy over a few stolen touches and hushed confessions, what will I be like when he begins properly courting me? What will that even entail? I’ll need to recenter myself this weekend. I cannot afford to make thissituation any worse by losing myself to the power of the love potion.

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