Page 13 of Bewitched & Bewildered (Witches of Starbrook #1)

Chapter 13

Juniper

I don’t care what he says—I will find a way to repay him. If we’re neighbors, helping each other has to go both ways.

My days are warm now that the shop isn’t going through an early winter. I could have figured it out without Ozan’s help, but there’s no denying having him around was convenient. Ozan fixed the situation faster than I could have figured it out. It’s only natural for me to brew him a potion in thanks.

The Bliss Potion isn’t one I make often. I’ve made it two times in the past. One was for an intimate night with a partner, and the other was for a college party with friends. It would be a strange gift for most, but a witch will know to be grateful.

The potion uses stardust, golden flakes, and fresh fairy-grown vanilla—all expensive ingredients, and for good reason. They’re strong. You can look at the name to see the results. It enhances joy, bliss… and fun. All types of fun.

Maybe he’ll use it. Perhaps he’ll sell it, considering how terrible he is at brewing potions. He used his magic to keep me warm, and I’ll use mine in return. It’s none of my business what he does with it.

This is about getting myself out of debt, and it isn’t any more profound than that. I simply cannot fathom being in debt to Ozan.

I brew enough for three bottles—two for my apothecary and one for Ozan.

“I’m going to lunch.” I don’t look at Maple as I hide the bottle in my bag.

Maple looks up from her place behind the counter. “What are you making? Smells yummy!”

“Bliss potion. If you’re in a better mood this afternoon, that’s why.”

Inhaling it shouldn’t give anyone a full effect, but it lifts the energy of the place the same way any simmer pot would. There are certain potions I have to wait until after close to make for this exact reason.

Maple looks at me with a radiant smile and nods her adorable head.

I’m in an elevated mood, too, but that doesn’t keep me from barging into his apothecary in my usual fashion. It’s two in the afternoon on a Wednesday. This is a dead hour—I know from experience—and for once, he doesn’t disappoint.

Ozan and his black cat are the only ones present. The shop is otherwise peaceful. Perfect.

He lifts his head, and when our eyes meet, he no longer looks shocked to see me. It’s as if he’s been expecting me.

OZAN

I’ve never seen Juniper look so mischievous. She wears a bright smile as she marches into my shop, looking like a woman on a mission.

I point at the ‘ gone to lunch’ sign on the door. She either missed it or didn’t care. This isn’t the first time a customer has ignored the sign in favor of their agenda.

What is her agenda? My curiosity keeps me from actually kicking her out.

“I’m having my lunch break,” I say.

Not that I expect her to leave—or that I want her to.

“I am, too.”

“Then what are you doing here? You didn’t bring lunch, and I am not sharing my sandwich.”

She places a heavy, glass, heart-shaped bottle on my desk. It sparkles with a pink sheen. A glimpse of the potion makes my insides twist, and my heart grows warm. I rub my chest absentmindedly.

“I have your payment.” Her smile grows.

“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. This is 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 and sometimes… 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 a potion —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 counter with 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.

“It’s a consumable potion. This isn’t supposed to happen.”

“Oh.” My brows furrow. I look at the potion on the ground.

My pants are tight. My cheeks hurt from smiling. A dazed realization clicks into place.

The potion only amplifies what is already there. It can’t make these feelings .

When I meet Juniper’s eyes, I wonder if she’s feeling the same.

I’ve wanted her since she walked into my shop the first day. She’s never looked at me the same way—never looked at me like this .

We’re both leaning in. Warmth sparks between us. She’s a breath away. I lift a hand, brushing her dark hair over her shoulder. Every brush, every touch, hits me to my soul. The fabric of her dress is soft, crimson, silk…

A moan slips past my lips.

“It’s the potion,” she whispers, too quiet to break our awakening desire.

“I don’t know if it is.”

She swallows. We both know it’s more. Magic can’t create emotion—it amplifies it.

“I want it to be the potion,” she says.

“We can pretend.”

She smiles, and it’s enormous and dazed, unlike anything I’ve seen on her. Her fingers trail down my chest, dark nails scraping against the fabric. The soft breaths passing through her lips are nothing—but they sound like ecstasy to me.

I won’t pull away—I don’t want to—but she does. It happens suddenly, and I’m left cold and confused. With a jerking motion, she pulls her hand back.

It’s as if I burned her.

“I have to go!” she squeaks.

“Juni—”

“Close the shop.” She pulls away from me and scrambles for the door. “Shut the door. Lock it up. It should stop working in a few hours.” A giggle falls past her lips.

“What about the floor? ”

“Water!” she says. “Ice cold water. It’s easy to clean. I would help, but…”

“You don’t have to go!”

I shouldn’t say it. It makes her laugh again. She’s laughing at the idea of staying with me. Of being with me.

I’m alone, left with a need I’ve been repressing. How can I push it back down? I don’t want to feel this pulsing, craving desire for someone who can’t stay…

She doesn’t want to stay. She’s gone.

JUNIPER

I call out sick for the rest of the day. Maple offers to make me soup, but I decline it. I’m going home to hide in my room.

I am ill, but it’s not that kind of illness. Soup won’t cure this. Nothing will.

A bliss potion isn’t supposed to make me feel lovesick, but it does. The potion can be arousing with the right people. When I took it with a group of friends, it felt like a casual high—a little laughter and creativity. When I took it with my partner… it was more like this .

Hot, heavy, throbbing, needing. I’m dizzy with desire, and it’s for one person. He’s the one person I don’t want to need.

I expect the feelings to leave when I run from his shop, but they follow me. Desire is still there as I close my bedroom door.

I slip out of my clothes with an empty mind. My hands run over my body, nails scraping against goose-bumped flesh. My nipples are hard under my fingers, and a whimper falls past my lips as I touch.

I didn’t imagine the potion would affect me, and certainly not like this.

Seeing how he watched me was arousing. His dark eyes dragged over my lips, over my chest. It felt as if he was touching me everywhere his eyes wandered. I can still feel the fire of his stare.

I saw Ozan in a new light. I can still see him like that. He’s imprinted in my mind. Has he always been here? Thoughts I’ve been pushing off come to the front—the way the tool belt was slung low over his hips. The tight shirts gripping at his arms and chest…

I fling myself into bed and cover my face with my hands. I’m alone. No one else is in my head. They can’t hear how I want him, but it’s mortifying.

I’ve been here before. Too high, hiding in my bed, waiting to come back down. We’ve all been here, haven’t we? There’s less time for fun in my current life, but I used to have fun and…

As confusing as this is, it feels fun . I want to let myself have it. I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed myself.

When was the last time I touched myself? I’ve been so busy.

My hand slips between my legs, and I gasp. Arousal coats my fingers. With wide eyes, I stare at the painted stars on my ceiling. They’re sparkling from the light of the potion and…

I made some miscalculations. It shouldn’t be this strong. I didn’t even consume it. Gods, I can’t sell this to anyone. That’s a problem for later. Running a business and making decisions in this mindset is no good .

My fingers brush over my hard clit. I gasp. A slight touch of my fingers is electricity. My back arches under the touch, and he’s here again when I close my eyes.

Ozan is shirtless. I can imagine the dark hair on his chest and his biceps flexing as he holds himself over me. His dark eyes bore into mine. I circle my fingers against my wet, throbbing clit. My hips lift, bucking against my hand.

In my head, it’s him. He’s filling me. His hand is around my throat. He’s whispering in my ear in his rough, low, hot voice.

What would he say to me? How would he touch my soft skin? How would his strong, thick, calloused fingers feel against my pert nipples? I grasp my breast with my other hand, whimpering under my touch.

Ozan held me once. Just once, in the office of my apothecary. It was nothing. He held my icy hands and shared his warmth, letting his magic surround me. His thumb brushed against the back of my hand and for that moment… I felt safe.

With the potion pushing me into bliss, I have no trouble admitting I felt it with him. There was someone else taking care of me. It’s more than desire and heat. I long for something tender, too.

To give myself to someone else. To let them care for me. To push my pleasure in their hands. It isn’t someone . I could find a warm body if I wanted to. That’s not what I want. Ecstasy has a name, and it’s his.

I want him. I need to hear Ozan whispering, telling me how good I am for caring for myself like this. I need him to taste me, and touch me, and fill me, and…

The sound of his imaginary moan echoes in my mind as I push myself to the edge.