Page 2 of Kissing Potions and Elves
But Lyrion looks exhausted. Paler than usual. His jaw is tense, lips drawn in a thin line.
And stars help me, Iwantto help him.
I’ve had a crush on him for two whole months. Ever since he first came into theEnchanted Teacup Caféand didn’t look at me. Not once. He just handed me his order while scribbling in his book. And when I delivered his tea, he never thanked me, never smiled… never even asked my name.
But I noticed everything. Like how the tips of his ears darken slightly when he’s tired, how he tucks his hair behind them when he reads, how he always taps the side of his teacup exactly twice before drinking.
And now he’s here. Talking tome. Needingme.
“Okay,” I breathe. “One cup. Just sit tight.”
He doesn’t even nod. Just closes his eyes and mutters something in Elvish thatsoundslike thank you, but might also be something less polite. Either way, I scurry off like a rabbit trying not to get eaten.
In the back room, I reach for the potion book, flip to the headache tonic recipe, and squint at the page. Tressa earmarked this potion because it’s one of the most requested by customers.
The script is full of curlicues and tiny symbols I cannot read, so I do what I always do: I match the shape of the letters to the labels on the jars.
Easy enough. Right?
I grab a few jars. One with a squiggly swirl. One with a little crossy star thing. One that definitely starts with an S… I think. Although I cannot read words, I know my numbers. I measure as carefully as I can, mixing everything into the teapot like I’ve watched Tressa do at least a dozen times.
It smells okay. Sort of floral, with a sharp peppery note.
That’s good. Probably.
I pour it into the porcelain cup, place it on the delicate saucer, and carry it to the broody object of my affections at his usual table.
Lyrion doesn’t look up as I approach. He just accepts the cup silently, cradles it in his hands, and takes a long sip.
Suddenly, he goes still. His fingers pause around the cup, knuckles whitening. His breathing slows, each inhale measured and controlled, like he’s trying to steady himself.
With meticulous, exaggerated care, he sets the cup down onto the saucer, the faint clink echoing loudly.
My heart pounds an erratic rhythm. “Is everything… alright? Would you perhaps like some milk in your tea?”
Instead of answering, he lifts his gaze slowly, deliberately, until his eyes find mine. The cool detachment that usually shields him shatters completely, replaced by something raw, hungry, almost feral.
My pulse quickens as his pupils expand until only a thin rim of violet is barely visible around the edges.
I’m frozen in place, unable to move or even blink as his intense gaze holds mine. Something shifts in the air between us, charging it like the sky before a summer storm. He rises from the chair in one smooth, predatory motion, movements fluid and graceful yet edged with a barely restrained tension.
My heart hammers in my chest as he closes the distance between us.
“Is your headache gone, my lord?” I wince inwardly as I once again use a title he’s never claimed to have. “Are you… feeling much improved?”
As he draws steadily closer, his piercing gaze is locked on my own. I’ve never had the full weight of his attention fixed upon me before, and I cannot tell if he’s angry or… something else.
Stars above, it feels as if all my secrets are raw and exposed before him. “Is everything alright?”
He’s so close, heat radiates from his body to mine. His spicy, intoxicating scent of parchment and pine envelops me.
Hesitantly, Lyrion raises his hand, his fingers curling slightly as though he’s unsure of his own intent. Then, with aching slowness, he reaches out and gently cups my cheek.
Warmth spreads from the intimate touch, igniting a heat deep within that I’ve never felt before.
“Lovely,” he whispers as his other arm loops around my waist.
I gasp as he pulls me flush against him. Before I can gather my scattered wits, he tilts his head and captures my mouth with his own in a passionate kiss.
