Page 19 of Kissing Potions and Elves (Oakvale Ever After #1)

LYRION

T he potion glows in the crystal vial, shimmering like moonlight caught in liquid form. A part of me knows this could be reckless. Tinkering with ancient magic, especially Elven potions of this nature, is rarely wise.

But the memory of Isobel’s lovely face this morning, when I woke up in the garden with her in my arms, is enough to make me abandon all caution.

For a moment, I forgot myself. I awakened her with a kiss. And when she returned it passionately, I nearly came undone. I’ve become addicted to her bright laughter, the warmth of her smile, and the chaotic joy she’s introduced into my meticulously structured world.

But I don’t know if it’s the potion or if these feelings I have for her are real. And the not knowing is driving me mad.

“Are you certain this will work?” Her fingers twist nervously in the fabric of her dress.

Doubt creeps in, but I force it back down. “It should, in theory, remove the proximity effect, or at least lessen it enough for you to safely return to your job at The Enchanted Teacup without collapsing if I’m not nearby.”

“Good.” She smiles. “I hate that you have to sit in the café because of me, keeping you from your own work.”

“Indeed.” Errol’s voice enters my mind. “I’m sure you have plenty of extremely critical scribbling and scowling to attend to.”

I scoff in offense and level an irritated glare at the cat. “I do not scowl.”

“Really?” Errol gives me a pointed look. “And just what exactly do you call that expression on your face right now?”

I clench my jaw. “I’ll have you know—”

“Are you talking to Errol again?” Isobel’s voice interrupts.

“Yes.”

“What’s he saying?” she asks, eyes wide with fascination. “I so wish I could hear him as you do. I’d love to know what he’s thinking.”

“He says I scowl when I work, but I told him I most certainly do not .”

“But you do,” she replies matter-of-factly.

“I— what ?”

“But it’s okay.” She shrugs. “That’s just the look you have when you’re concentrating.”

As she picks up the scruffy cat, cradling him in her arms like he’s a precious treasure, Errol gives me a smug look that says I told you so while he purrs and rubs against her.

“Cheeky little tyrant,” I murmur to the cat.

Isobel laughs, and it warms something deep within me, my traitorous heart squeezing in response. Moon above, why does her laughter affect me this much?

I clench my jaw when I recall the softness of her skin as I held her close and the feel of her lips pressed to mine.

If we don’t find a cure for this soon, my father will think I’ve lost my mind and my mother will have a proper fit once they discover that I’m allowing a human to dictate the erratic rhythm of my heart.

Carefully, I uncork the vial and pour half its contents into another cup. Isobel’s fingers brush mine as she accepts it, sending sparks dancing up my arm. Frustration pulses through me. Even this simple touch is enough to make me want to pull her into my arms and kiss her senseless.

“To freedom,” she murmurs, raising her cup in a toast.

“To freedom,” I echo before we drink in unison.

The potion tastes like mint tea, cool and refreshing. I study Isobel’s expression, searching for signs of discomfort. Her cheeks are slightly flushed, but she seems otherwise the same.

“How do you feel?” I ask gruffly, stepping back, hoping that a little space might reduce the impossible pull I constantly feel toward her. I desperately need distance, or I fear my control might crumble entirely.

She tilts her head. “I feel alright.”

Encouraged, I take another step back. “Then let’s test it.”

Slowly, we increase the distance between us. Isobel smiles, clearly delighted as she manages several steps away without issue.

Relief begins to unfurl in my chest. Perhaps this potion has solved our proximity problem. If so, I’ll have a much easier time retaining command over myself, possibly avoiding any more kissing.

She’s already three houses down when a mild tingling sensation starts in my limbs.

“Isobel, wait!” I call out at the same time that she yells, “I feel good. I think it’s working. I—”

The color suddenly drains from her face. My heart stops as she staggers, pressing a hand to her temple. “Lyrion?”

Panic surges through me, and I rush toward her, catching her in my arms before she collapses. She’s trembling, her skin clammy and cold .

She feels impossibly delicate in my arms, and I tighten my hold instinctively around her. Something deep inside me twists uncomfortably at the thought of her in pain.

“Isobel!” I brush the hair back from her face, but her eyes are closed. “Look at me. What’s happening?”

Her fingers clutch weakly at my tunic as she blinks up at me. “I’m dizzy,” she groans. “And cold.”

“It’s alright.” I carefully lift her into my arms and stand.

Her shivering begins to ease and her breathing becomes steady.

“I’m starting to feel better,” she murmurs, resting her hand on my chest. “I think this helps.”

She’s right. This closeness between us is alleviating her symptoms. I’m not sure why she was affected more than I was. I had barely begun to feel any discomfort, whereas she nearly collapsed.

My jaw tightens. This is not good. How am I supposed to emotionally distance myself when I cannot be physically far from her side? I gaze down at the fragile human in my arms, my frustration melting swiftly into unexpected tenderness as I cradle her carefully.

Stars help me, why do I feel so protective of her?

It’s the potion. It has to be. It must have strengthened the bond instead of weakening it.

Isobel’s forehead rests against my collarbone, her breath feathering across my neck.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, voice small and vulnerable.

“This is all my fault. I thought this new potion might help. I feel so bad that you’re stuck at the café all day while I work, when you could be home, writing your book. And now I’ve only made things worse.”

“Nonsense.” I tighten my arms around her. “You could never make things worse.”

I clench my jaw as the words escape my lips unfiltered. What in the world compelled me to say such a thing, much less even think it?

And that’s precisely the problem. I’m rapidly losing all ability to think clearly when it comes to her. It has to be the kissing potion. It must have had a strong bonding component mixed in it. That’s the only explanation that makes sense.

Gazing down at her, she fits perfectly in my arms, nestled against me as if she were meant to be there all along. I grit my fangs. I can pretend irritation all I want, but deep down I know the truth: This feels right in a way that nothing else ever has.

“You need rest.” My voice comes out a bit gruffer than intended. “We’ll stay close tonight until this effect fades.”

“Alright,” she murmurs. Her trust melts something sharp-edged inside my chest as I carry her back to the cottage. I walk upstairs toward my bedroom, heart hammering nervously at the prospect of sharing such an intimate space.

But if this will help her feel better, I have no choice. I don’t want her to experience any discomfort. She matters far too much.

Setting her gently on the bed, I pull the blankets over her. Her luminous eyes meet mine. Unable to stop myself, I brush a finger along her cheek, watching in wonder as a pink flush follows in its wake. “Sleep,” I murmur. “I’ll be nearby.” I gesture to the chair beside the bed.

As I start to pull away, she whimpers softly, and her fingers catch mine. “Please stay,” she whispers, shy and hesitant. “Even just the small distance… I don’t want to risk…” Her voice trails off, but I understand. She doesn’t want to feel ill again.

It would be wrong to share a bed with someone I’m not bound to.

“Please, stay with me,” she murmurs again, and my resolve crumbles beneath her plea.

Earth and sky, why can’t I refuse her anything?

I give her a slight nod and then slide onto the bed beside her. I’m surprised when she rolls toward me, tucking herself against my side. Carefully, I wrap an arm around her.

A strange warmth fills my chest as I feel her relax against me, her breaths becoming soft and even.

“Just tonight,” I mutter, mostly to myself. And even as I say this, I wonder if it’s a lie because I worry I won’t ever be able to push her away again.