Page 5 of Kissing Potions and Elves
I stand rooted to the spot. Panic crawls steadily up my spine, not because of the herbs, nor even the potion’s lingering enchantment that still pulses treacherously through my veins, but because I haveno idea what to dowith a crying human.
Elves don’t normally cry. We meditate, breathe deeply, internalize our emotions until they dissipate into neat, manageable compartments. But this? This outpouring of emotion spilling so openly from Isobel… this is completely beyond my experience.
She is most definitely not internalizing anything.
Swallowing hard, I cross the small distance between us. Carefully, I crouch beside her, hovering for a moment before awkwardly extending my hand to pat her shoulder. Twice. Gently.
“Um… There, there,” I say, trying to figure out the best way to diffuse this situation.
She doesn’t look up, just continues sobbing into her hands, shoulders shaking. Frustration twists in my gut. I should say something comforting, something eloquent.
Unfortunately, nothing comes to mind.
“It’s going to be alright,” I offer stiffly, hoping that does it.
“No, it’s not,” she wails. Her lovely face is stained with tears, her cheeks all blotchy. “I’ve ruined everything. When Tressa sees this… when she finds out what I’ve done, I’ll be finished. I can’tlose this job. I don’t have anywhere else to go. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to bewitch you.”
I blink in confusion. “Bewitch?”
Vaelar help me, she doesn’t even know the difference between a bewitching spell and a potion.
She emits another hiccupping sob, pressing her hands back to her flushed, tear-streaked face.
I stare helplessly down at her, the sounds of her distress creating an uncomfortable ache in my chest. Something foreign, prickly, and distinctly unpleasant.
It must be indigestion.
“There’s no need for tears,” I speak softly, trying to calm her. “I’ll tell Tressa it was my fault.”
Her head snaps up, confusion mixing with tentative hope. “You will?”
I nod.
“How?”
“I’ll… make something up.” I shrug. “It shouldn’t be that hard. Tressa is Fae and, like humans, they are easily suggestible.”
Her mouth drops open in offense.
“I didn’t mean that condescendingly,” I amend.
She arches a skeptical brow. “Yes, you did.”
I open my mouth, ready to deny it, then think better of it and shut it again.Well, fair enough.
She wipes clumsily at her cheeks with the back of one sleeve, determination flashing in her gaze. “I want to pay you back. I’ll do anything. Just name it.”
And then, just as I’m about to reassure her again, it hits me.
The pull. The pulse. The irresistible, overwhelming urge ignited by her disastrous potion roars back to life, scorching through my veins with unrelenting force. My thoughts scatter,the world narrowing instantly to the soft fullness of her lips, now slightly swollen from our passionate kiss.
My magic hums urgently toward her, yearning, hungry, and entirely inappropriate.
Her eyes widen sharply, and she takes a small step back. “I—I mean… almost anything. But I’m not the sort of girl who would ever, you know, just give out favors just because you’re”—she gestures vaguely in my direction, her face turning an even deeper shade of crimson—“all sharp-cheeked handsomeness and… Elfy.”
Elfy?
I purse my lips, thoroughly insulted that she would even think I might suggest something so improper. “I wasn’t going to ask you forthat.”
