Chapter 2 Love Potion, Number Nein

M inerva watched Jezebel slump into the hard wooden chair in front of the lab table. Her expression was as sour as a lemon drop. The star athlete looked about as thrilled to be there as she would getting a root canal. It was painfully obvious that Jezebel thought this detention was dragonshit.

Too bad.

Jezebel's grades in Potions had tanked to an appalling level. If the girl didn't shape up soon, she was going to straight up fail.

"You're in luck today," Minerva said crisply. "We're going to review the basics of potion brewing to patch up the giant holes in your knowledge.”

"Yeah, lucky me," Jezebel muttered, slinging her backpack on the table with a graceless thud. Textbooks, crumpled papers, and sparkly pencil case tumbled out. A small, unlabeled bottle rolled out too, coming to a stop right by Minerva's hand. Jezebel snatched it quickly up and stuffed it into her field hockey kilt.

“What was that?” Minerva asked suspiciously.

“Nothing. Just a topical pain relief. It’s like lidocaine only magical,” Jezebel hedged.

Minerva held out her hand expectantly. Reluctantly, Jezebel passed over the bottle, biting her lip nervously as Minerva took a sniff.

It didn’t smell like any of the sports creams she remembered the jocks used to use. But there was something familiar about it.

“Hmmm.” Minerva wasn’t convinced it was what Jezebel said it was, but the clock was ticking on their detention time, and Minerva needed her to focus on potions. Reluctantly, Minerva handed the bottle back.

"Get the ingredients for a basic Enlarging Potion from the supply closet.”

As soon as the field hockey star was out of sight, Minerva sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose under her glasses, trying to ward off a stress headache. Merlin’s toenails, this semester was going to be the death of her, she just knew it. Everyone was on pins and needles hoping that the Grimm Mawr field hockey team was going to bring the Grimms their first state championship. Trying to teach the students while that anticipation was building was like herding cats most days.

And then there was the added headache of Coach Archie Hawthorne...

As if she'd conjured him just by thinking his name, the door to the potions lab burst open, banging against the wall. There in the doorway, looking like he'd just walked off a sports magazine cover, was the man himself.

Minerva's stomach did a giddy little swoop at the sight of him, his broad shoulders and boyish charm hitting her like a sucker punch as always. His sweatpants clung to his hips almost indecently and she forced herself not to look down. His outfit was an assault on her senses, hugging every muscular curve.

"Is detention over yet?" he asked with a crooked grin.

"It hasn’t even started yet,” she replied, ignoring the fluttering his deep voice always triggered in her stomach. Honestly, did the man have to look like a romance novel heartthrob 24/7? It was a wonder any of the girls at the Grimm Mawr Academy learned anything, with him strutting around oozing testosterone.

"I was hoping Jezebel could cut out early.” He folded his arms, biceps bulging distractingly under his short sleeves.

Minerva fought not to sputter. She held on to her temper by a cat’s whisker. “No,” she forced out, not trusting herself to say anything else.

“Do you smell something?” Archie said, sniffing around the room.

Minerva suddenly felt lightheaded, like all the air had been sucked out of her chest. A pool of heat curled in her lower belly. Her mouth opened and closed soundlessly, words evaporating on her tongue.

What was happening here? This new, spine-tingling tension was simmering, raising all the hairs on her arms. It was thrilling and terrifying and totally throwing her off balance.

Archie seemed to be grappling with a similar internal crisis. He was still staring at her intently, but she noticed his hands clenching into fists, almost like he was physically stopping himself from reaching for her. From cupping her burning face in his strong hands. Pulling her into his arms and claiming her mouth with his. Tangling his fingers in her long hair and tugging until she gasped against his lips...

Alarmed at the wild direction of her own fantasies, Minerva mentally slapped herself. Get it together, Everhart! You're a professional, for crying out loud, not a cartoon character with hearts floating around your head. There's no way you're letting this egotistical gym monkey break your brain with a few steamy looks.

Taking a deep breath and channeling her inner frost queen, Minerva stepped back and crossed her arms, putting a few feet of much needed distance between them.

"What was I saying?" Archie blinked, then quickly cleared his throat. He stared down at the floor and frowned. “What’s this?”

“Careful,” Minerva said, seeing that a bottle had broken on the floor.

They reached down and their fingers brushed. A roaring went off in Minerva’s head. In the very back of her mind, a part of her recognized that it was the bottle Jezebel had snatched away from her. It must have fallen out of her kilt’s pocket.

Something was very wrong. It felt like fire ants were crawling in her veins, searing her nerve endings as they went. A deep, pulsing ache blossomed low in her belly and between her thighs, stealing her breath and setting her whole body throbbing.

"This isn’t sports medicine,” she tried to say, but the words slurred on Minerva's tongue as the world narrowed down to pinpricks. She needed...oh God, she needed...

"Minerva..." The sound of Archie rasping her name sent lightning streaking down her spine. She turned heavy-lidded eyes on him, mouth falling open on a ragged gasp.

He looked as wrecked as she felt, tanned skin flushed and eyes glassy with desire. Gone was the cocky charm, replaced by something much darker and more primal. It radiated off him in waves, buffeting her already sensitized body.

Archie reached for Minerva, crushing her soft curves against the steel wall of his chest.

She made a strangled sound as she ignited at the first touch of his hands. Wildfire raced through her blood, every nerve sparking and spitting with need. It pooled, molten and urgent, at the apex of her thighs.

Lust potion, she realized dimly. It scrambled any semblance of rational thought, filling her head with an endless litany of "want, need, now, please..."

"Tell me you don't feel this," Archie growled against her ear, voice rough as gravel. "How much you want me." His breath was hot against her neck, as he pulled them to their feet.

Minerva couldn't even pretend to protest. Not with her body pulsing in time to his heartbeat, not with the desperate moan clawing its way up her throat. He was a livewire against her, hard and hot and vibrating with barely leashed hunger.

"Tell me you don't want this," he rasped, eyes burning into hers. "That you haven't imagined my hands on you, my mouth tasting every inch of your skin..."

A soft whimper escaped Minerva’s throat at the sinful images his words conjured. Her palms splayed over the firm muscles of his chest, the heat of him seeping into her bones. She yearned to tangle her fingers in his hair, to pull that tempting mouth down to hers and lose herself completely.

"We shouldn't," she breathed, even as she leaned into his embrace. "It's not...not appropriate..."

"To hell with appropriate," he growled, and captured her lips in a searing kiss.

Minerva made a helpless, wanting sound as his mouth slanted over hers, firm and insistent. His tongue teased the seam of her lips and she opened for him on a gasp, swept away in a maelstrom of sensation. He tasted of cinnamon and dark spices, utterly intoxicating.

Large hands slid down her back to grip her hips, pulling her flush against the unyielding strength of his body. She clutched at his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his T-shirt. Heat unspooled through her veins, stoking the mounting ache between her thighs. She had never been kissed like this before - hungrily, desperately, as if he couldn't get enough of her.

Archie wrenched his mouth from hers to trail biting kisses along her jawline, down the column of her throat. Minerva let her head fall back on a moan, completely undone. Some distant part of her knew this was wrong. That it was the lust potion making them lose control.

But oh, she couldn't bring herself to care. Not with Archie's teeth scraping over her racing pulse. His fingers digging into her hips with delicious force. Minerva wanted him with a ferocity that stole her breath, left her trembling and wanton in his arms.

And then, as quickly as it began, the fog abruptly lifted.

They sprang apart as if burned, chests heaving and eyes wide with shock. Minerva raised a shaking hand to her kiss-swollen lips, her skin still tingling from his touch. He looked equally stunned, hair mussed and a telltale bulge tenting the front of his pants.

"Morgana's sagging tits," he breathed, a dark flush stealing up his neck. "Nightshade, you better have a damn good explanation for this!"

Minerva whirled behind her to see Jezebel staring at them with a mixture of embarrassment and reluctant fascination. She fiddled with a loose thread on her robes, avoiding their accusing stares.

"It was just supposed to be a harmless prank," she mumbled, cheeks flaming. "I never thought...I mean, I didn't know you two would react like that."

Minerva fought the urge to hex the impertinent chit six ways from Sunday. Her body still thrummed with unfulfilled arousal, skin overwarm and too tight. Minerva didn't dare look at Archie, too mortified by her wanton display.

Taking a deep, unsteady breath, Minerva drew herself up to her full height and fixed Jezebel with her most forbidding glare. "Detention. For the rest of term.”

Jezebel’s mouth fell open in protest. Minerva slashed a hand through the air, cutting her off. "I will be speaking to the headmistress about how you got access to the forbidden herbs. Now start your enlarging potion.”

Jezebel blanched, no doubt thinking what The Raven would do to her. She hastily stacked up her supplies on the desk and got to work. Minerva closed her eyes briefly, regaining her composure before turning to face Archie.

"Coach Hawthorne, I don't know what to say." Her voice wavered slightly, betraying her not-quite-steady state. "That was highly inappropriate and completely out of line. I apologize for my lack of control."

He rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish grimace twisting his handsome features. "You and me both, Everhart. I got a little carried away there. Damn lust potions, eh?"

But even as he said it, his gaze raked over her with unmistakable heat, making her insides clench and her skin prickle anew.

Oh Merlin...what had that bedeviled brat awakened between us?