Chapter Two

The Prince of Potions

"Lithium, don't want to lock me up inside.
Lithium, don't want to forget how it feels without...
Lithium, I want to stay in love with my sorrow.
Oh, but God, I want to let it go."

-Evanescence "Lithium"

My brain was pounding into my skull. I could feel it resonating throughout my entire body, from my fingertips down into the heels of my feet. I was warm, and snuggled into something soft and cushy. A warm, spicy scent was drifting in the air. Keeping my eyes squeezed shut, I waited for the grogginess to leave my mind. Slowly, all the pieces came falling into my memory and I was able to focus. The pain in my head did not subside, but I tried to think past it. I noted that my physical aches seemed to be gone.

I remember…. Seeing the mysterious man in the night; I remember the intensity of his gaze in the darkness. I remember…. Being in the air. Floating. And then smacking into the earth. I remember…. Being paralyzed. I remember…. Gentle but firm hands. And a soft voice muttering as I was carried somewhere in the darkness. I remember a hand on my forehead, and soothing sensations around me as I was tucked in. That must be where I am now. Tucked in to an incredibly soft bed. I needed one of these. Or I could just keep this one, since I was likely to die here, now.

I reach down in, and try to pull my magic to the surface, but it will not come. This place must be warded and spelled, dampening my powers down. I try sensing the magic in the house, instead. I could feel the heat that I felt in the aura before, this time laced with…. Worry? He was definitely still angry, but the anger felt different. Not so much as "I am going to kill you" as it was "fuck, fuck, FUCK!" I touched the aura, looking for its master. He was still inside the building, but not close by. On the other level, perhaps. I focused deeper on the spellwork I had thrown at him. He was definitely still on this level, just a few rooms away.

I pull away from the magic and decided I needed to take in some more information about my surroundings, discreetly. Trying to keep my breathing deep and even, I crack one eye open. I was laying on my side in the bed, curled up. Wow, way to get completely comfortable, asshole, I scolded myself. The room was dark, but flickering lightly in candle flame.

The bed in question was huge – much larger than any California King I had ever slept in. There was a canopy atop amazing ironwork above, and the posters were also intricate iron design. I could see snakes, laced with ivy vines, and some various flora. The eyes on the snakes glittered green and blue. Beautiful. Whoever made this bed was an artist. There were flowing dark curtains across the iron canopy, draped down onto the ground around the bed, effectively blocking view of the room. There was a crack in the curtain to the far bottom right of the bed – at my backside. The comforter on the bed was unlike anything I had ever touched. Soft but thick, a sensual sensory overload. I ran my hand over the black, musing about how this would feel on naked skin. The sheets inside were silk. Not some cheap, crap silk, but real, slide your skin across to orgasm, silk. The pillow beneath my head was surely a costly down, and super comfy. I really could just let myself fall back asleep. Possibly after peeling my clothes off. The owner probably wouldn't mind. They put me in here with mud all over me, after all. If the bedding needs washed, anyway….

I shake my aching head slightly, prompting my thoughts away from sexual enjoyments. I really did need to be laid. Well, if I don't die here, anyway. But seriously, I could not walk into a job feeling so antsy like this.

I jump out of the bed and leapt through the curtain opening, landing on the plushiest, softest carpet my feet have ever touched. It was black – surprise! – and the walls of the room were a light grey. Black trim, black shelves and a black dresser. Off the far left of the room, an archway to the bathroom. I did an inner dance – I really needed to pee.

After relieving my bladder, I take in the bathroom itself. There is a giant stainless steel claw-foot tub, a grey marble shower in the corner, and a huge two-sink vanity. Everything is bare and clean. A soft glow from a corner shelf pulses with smoke. I move closer for a look. It is a tiny jar, glowing green and the smoke was rather like incense. Delicious and musty.

I walk back into the bedroom and check out the open-door walk-in closet. Black cloaks and coats hung from racks. There were drawers lining the opposite wall from the hanging clothing, and the far wall held shoes. The place was huge, though, and definitely could house a companion's wardrobe. The emptiness around the owner's clothes was screaming sad. So emo, I mused. I flicked off the light and wandered back around the bed.

I notice a mug on the nightstand next to the bed, with a note. The writing on the note was tight, small and slanted. Elegant and gothic. Drink. Just the single word. Do I dare? If the guy wanted to kill me, he could have already. But, instead of being tied up or tortured, I was kept in his own bed. I glance around me, looking for a decision to slap me in the face.

Fuck it. I pick up the copper mug and peer inside. The liquid was goldish, and shiny. I gulp and slam it back quickly. It tasted rather good, actually. A chocolately, warm taste. Not desert-worthy, but not bad.

Immediately, the pain in my head ebbed away, and I suddenly felt full of energy and well-rested. Amazing. I need the recipe for that stuff. Awesome hangover cure, for sure. I turned now and noticed a door, presumably leading out of the room. I had not seen it before. Had it? As if I was deflected from seeing it with magic, like the warding outside was meant to do. I noted two windows that I swear had not been there a moment ago, too. I hurried over and looked out.

It was early morning now, fog rising off the ground and winding itself around the house and into the woods. The sun sparkled through the treeline, and it looked beautiful. I try the window, but it would not move. Not that I was surprised - that would just be too easy. I look down at the beehives I could see last night, and saw some workers buzzing around the hive, prepping to fly off into the day.

Turning from the window, I lean against it and let the cool glass wash over me. I ponder my options before I walk over to the doorway slowly, hesitating before reaching out and pulling the handle. The door swung open, easily. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding in.

After following a long hall way (this house did not look this big from the outside…), I walk into another dark room, this one lined with bookshelves, various crystals and vials along with the old tombs. But the space was bare of cobweb and dust. The guy definitely took care of this place and his possessions. A few small tables held cauldrons. Not cheap plastic ones like you get at Halloween, but heavy, intricately decorated ones. Real, potion holding cauldrons. One was smoking lightly, puffs of varying purple and red lifting into the air. Rad.

My bare feet padded on dark wooden floor. There were glowing, floating salt crystals dancing timidly throughout the space. That was pretty fabulous, too. I could totally live here. I hummed to myself a little, walking around slowly, turning to and fro, when I finally looking to the far end of the room, and smarted. There he was, sitting tall behind a desk, glaring at me. My heart sputtered and stopped, before pumping again frantically. I should have felt him so close, with the bonding spell. But all my magic felt dampened, still.

His face was dancing in the valley of shadow and light, the dancing crystals splashing prisms around him. In all black, he was almost unseen. The desk he was sitting behind was the same ironwork as the bed, the snake eyes glittered and glowed green, almost as if staring me down along with their owner. He had long, wavy hair that fell just above elbow-length. His robes were not on him now, and I could see a stylish covat under the high neckline of his coat. The coat in question had tight sleeves, and a very gothic look.

He pierces me with his steely glare, not saying anything. Just sitting there, stoic, and waiting. Finally, so quietly I almost did not hear, "Finally, we are graced with the hunter's presence." A smirk flittered across his lips, disappearing so fast, I almost did not see it. "No matter, I am a patient man. I trust the Veritaserum is now coursing throughout your body, and thusly, we shall begin." The voice was smooth and silky.

"Excuse me? Verbooba what? And, sorry man, I have no intention of beginning anything with you. Find someone else." Even as I said it, though, I looked down at the snake eyes and realized that wasn't true. "I just changed my mind. I would like to begin something with you." My eyes widened in shock, and I slap a hand over my mouth.

"Ah, yes. It is coming into effect now. You see, the potion I left for you was a healing draught, yes. But I laced it with the most potent truth serum. You will have no choice but tell me everything I wish I know." Another fast smirk. "We will give it a few more minutes time."

"I am not telling you anything!" I spat, feeling clammy and sweaty again. "Actually, I will tell you everything." Fuck. Why do I always have the shittiest luck? I turned to leave to room, but the heavy wooden door slammed shut in front of me. I grab for the handle in a panic and tugged, but nothing happened. "Shit!"

I whip around, angry. "You cannot keep me here! I will not be your prisoner – yes, I will, if you do naughty things to me – I would rather you kill me – no, I really wouldn't. I am really freaked out, though!" What the fuck was happening? I had no control over my own voice. It came pouring out of my lips no matter how hard I tried to clamp it down. I needed to control myself, to get out of this. I would not be a prisoner again. Not ever.

He ignored me completely, dismissing me with a bored look. "What color is your hair?"

I almost laughed. In my mind, I answer, Are you fucking blind? But I really said was, "Brown."

"What is your name?" Again, quiet, but resonating power.

I want to lie, to say something – anything – other than my real name, but it came pouring out my mouth. "Bella Swan. No middle name."

More staring. His gaze really was beautiful. Black, dark eyes, guarded behind a veil. His hair was raven-black, the stubble on his face flecked with grey and white. He hand a crooked nose, but it fit his face well. Thin face, sultry lips and a masculine jawline. I shuffle uneasily, bouncing back and forth on my feet. "Who sent you?" His voice was like honey. Thick, with the most erotic timbre I had ever head, it slid down my spine and sends shivers throughout my body. Definitely a hint of British accent.

"No one sent me, per se. I received tips that there was a witch here, working magic, and so I came." I shrug one shoulder up, trying to look bored.

"And you came here with…. What…. intention?" his words were drawn out, dramatic pauses and drawls between each.

"To kill you."

"I see." He steeples his fingers in front of his face now. "I assumed as much, given the many weapons your arrived with."

We stare at each other for what feels like an eternity before I finally break my eyes away and look around the room. I was a blabber mouth under pressure, and sarcastic. This situation was no different than any other time my mouth got me into trouble.

"So. The floating salt lights. Those are pretty cool." I bounce a little, shooting the guy a tight-lipped smile. "And all these books. Amazing. What do you like to read?"

No answer, the silence pounded around me. I clear my throat a little. "I have never heard of magic like yours before. Impressive potions. You have been studying those awhile, eh?"

Still silence, and more brooding. I sigh. "Okay, look, I get that you want to know why I came, why I was going to kill you, blah blah blah. But could you possibly take pity on me and tell me you are a coffee drinker? I could seriously appreciate a good cuppa right about now. Pretty please?" I give him my biggest, eyelash eyeballs ever.

"Very well." With an eyeroll, he raises an arm and flicks the stick I had glimpsed last night again. A sudden pop, and a mug appeared, hovering, in front of me.

"Bloody hell," I mutter. I have never seen anything like this before – conjuring something out of nothing, and with a flick of a stick. I reach for it, taking it into both of my hands and wrapping my fingers around the warmth. I took a tentative sip, after a hesitation. I already drank an unknown vial left out for me. What more could go wrong? He could kill you, still. I shrug to myself and let the coffee slide down my throat. I couldn't stop the soft moan that escaped me. It tastes like melted butterscotch. The most delicious coffee I had ever tasted, thick and creamy, settling nicely into my stomach and sending comfort into my limbs. "This is amazing, thank you." I look up over the mug and smile.

There was a chair off the side in front of his desk, and I move cautiously towards it. "Mind if I sit?" He sits, still unmoving and making no expression. I decide to take this as an invitation and help myself.

I sit down, lean back and relax. There was no reason to fight, really. I would either find a way to escape, the boys would rescue me, or I would die. Fate would have its way, regardless of how much I stressed. I enjoy the coffee and continue looking around leisurely. After some time, he spoke again.

"What, pray tell, is crossing your mind?"

"I keep thinking about having a go with you in that amazing bed you have upstairs." A flash look of shock registers on his face before he slides his mask back down in place. Not sure what surprises me more, my answer, or his question. I could feel the heat crawling up my neck, onto my cheeks. Holy shit. Was I really thinking about that? I guess I was. I don't know if it was nerves or the potion, but I continue, "Those silky sheets must feel amazing sliding around on your naked body while you're fucking someone senseless."

Not missing a beat, he asked, "Why were you intending to kill me?" His stare was so unnerving.

"I hunt and kill every witch I can find, except for a few I keep in my fold, as they are useful to me and my cause." My face was still hot with humiliation. More so, that he was obviously unaffected by me completely. I braved to ask, "Are you going to let me leave?"

"What is the purpose of the spell you cast upon me?" Ignoring me again, he continues on.

"It is a tracking spell. I created it with a powerful witch ally, Rowena. I use the spell balls often while hunting. They allow me to find you, wherever, however."

"How do you remove the spellwork?"

"I – I have to kill you." I gulp. "Or, you have to kill me."

I look at him, trying my best to pierce him with the same glaring look. "There is no other way?" He clenches his teeth, irritation seeping into his voice now.

I roll my eyes, "Obviously not, or I would have said that, yeah?"

The glaring continues, but deepens, if that is even possible.

"Look, we never had a reason to remove it. I use it for those I intend to kill. There was no need to remove it, before…" I feel my heart slipping. He was going to kill me. If he wanted the spell removed, one of us would have to die.

"Are there others following you?"

"No, but my mobile does have a tracker, and if I do not text my brothers within two days time, they will coming looking." And they would bring this entire building down, taking this jerk with it.

"Ah, I see." An eyebrow raises at me, condescendingly.

"So… did you enjoy peeking under my clothes when you removed my weapons?" I can not resist poking the bear. And I do wonder where he put them. My one blade was my favorite. A gift from the boys, it was an angel blade, and I would miss it.

A scoff and slight shake of his head, "I removed your weapons with magic."

"Well, that's no fun," I snort.

The silence stretches for several more minutes while I finished my coffee. "So…. What's your name?" I reach for the desk, curiously grabbing for a book that was laying on the corner. He moves quickly, his reflexes like lightening, and slams his hand down on the book, preventing me from removing it. His fingertips are laying atop my hand lightly, and I feel tingles race up my arm.

"We mustn't touch things that do not belong to us, Bella." My name was a purr on his lips, and I shudder involuntarily.

The man cocks his head slightly, releasing his grip on the book and leans back. "Severus."

"Ah, well. Pleasure, this has been, Sev. Can I call you Sev?" I also withdrew into my chair, clutching my mug for comfort.

"No."

"Alrighty then, Sev." I grin. He stands, unfolding himself from his seat suddenly. My breathing hitches. He is tall, and broad shouldered. I idly wonder what he is hiding inside his coat.

Severus towers over me, menacing. "You may enjoy my home, for now. Help yourself to the books, if that will keep you out of trouble, otherwise. But you will not be permitted to leave until we find a solution to this… dilemma. I wish you no harm, though I know you do not extend the same. We will remove this bond, and you will leave with your memory of this cleaned." He sneers, and moves from behind the desk. "You may roam the grounds around the house, should you wish to venture outdoors, but the woods are your boundary line. There will be…. Consequences… if you try to escape."

I scramble up, which left me standing directly in front of him. "Do remove yourself, Bella." This was not a request, but I stand firm, giving him my best look of loathing. Straightening my spine, I made myself as tall as I could.

"I think not, Severus." I spit his name out vehemently.

A sigh escapes his lips. "My, you are exasperating. We will need to correct this defiance of yours." A twinkle dances in his eyes, and fades just as quickly.

"I would maybe enjoy that too much, Sev." Damn truth potion. I hate myself, hate my horny truth. I really need to mess around more when I was home. I made a mental note to go purchase a few toys when I got out of here. But do you really want to leave? Fuck you, voice in my head.

"Stay out of trouble, and respect things that are not yours." He growls down at me, narrowing his eyes. His eyelashes were quiet long, and he smells amazing. This house and its owner and all the amazing smells, dammit.

I look up at his face, suddenly feeling his effect on me down between my legs. Fuckity fuck fuck. He leans down, coming closing to my face. I knew my eyes were wide with surprise, but then with a faint pop, he was gone.