Page 57 of Bewitched & Bewildered
“Is this a love potion?” All I want to do is gaze at the bottle. I force my eyes to lift to hers instead, drawn into the twinkle of mirth I find there.
“No!” She scoffs. “I would never give you a love potion—and I could rant and rave about how love potions don’t exist. You can’t manufacture love.Thisis a bliss potion.”
She’s right. Juniper knows more about potions than I ever will. What most people call a love potion is an obsession potion, and selling them is frowned upon.
A bliss potion is different. It’s still extreme, but it doesn’t create emotions that don’t already exist within the user. The potion she whipped up will elicit extreme joy andsometimes… arousal. Many witches, and other beings, experiment with the potion in college.
I’ve tried it a few times, even though I’ve never brewed it. I wouldn’t have the skills. It’s a complicated potion.
“You’re paying me with drugs?” I smirk and cross my arms.
“Drugs?” Her jaw drops. “It’s apotion—and an expensive one at that. I only use the highest quality ingredients.”
“I’m sure you do.”
“You can sell it,” she says. “Or do whatever you want. What happens next is none of my business.”
I move the potion off to the side. It’s still warm in the bottle, and simply touching it sends a jolt of electricity through me.
“Tell me about the potion,” I say. “I can’t sell it without knowing what it is. What are the ingredients?”
“It’s based on the Way of the Witch recipe, but I add a secret ingredient.”
It’s a well-known book. I trust many of the spells in it, as do other witches.
“What is your secret ingredient?” I prod.
“A secret.” She rolls her eyes. “The point is: we’re even.”
“I told you I don’t want payment.”
“I’m not taking it back.”
“Fine,” I say. “But this isn’t payment. It’s a gift. Neighbors give each other gifts.”
Most people would accept that. Her lips press into a tight line, and I can already see she has an argument brewing. I brace myself with a smile.
“I don’t know?—”
Before she can finish her sentence, a shattering sound hits my ears. I don’t see Evren near us until it’s too late. The little black cat—my familiar—stands on the counterwith his tail swishing. He looks rather pleased with himself, too.
Juniper’s expensive potion splatters on the ground. A mess of pink and gold seeps into my wood floorboards. Sweet vanilla fills the air, and when my eyes lock onto Juniper’s…
She’s glowing. At least, through my eyes, she is. Her expression softens. Her lips part. My eyes move down to the rising of her chest, and my throat is tight when I swallow. I wet my lips. She does, too.
My gaze lingers on her mouth for too long.
“I made it too strong,” she mumbles.
Under the potion’s influence, the pink of her cheeks is thrilling. She’s flushed. I lift a hand, longing to touch the warmth in her face, but don’t dare make the move.
“Oh?” I barely register what she’s saying. My eyes are stuck on how her lips move.
“Ozan. Focus.” She’s closer now. Her face is inches from mine, and I lean in.
She touches my chest. The touch is nothing, but it’s searing and tingling. I let out a soft groan… only for her to push me away. A longing awakens in me. I want more of her touch, even if it’s not gentle. I would chase it down if not for her pushing me away.
“I’m focusing,” I say.
