Chapter 2 Two

I spent all day regretting my decision. Every protection amulet I sold, every tourist palm I read, all while my mind kept replaying that electric touch from the night before. What was I thinking, agreeing to meet a vampire prince alone after dark? My grandmother would have a stroke if she knew. Yet at closing time, I found myself rushing the last customers out, then spending an embarrassing amount of time checking my reflection in the vintage mirror behind the counter. I told myself I was just being professional as I reapplied my deep red lipstick and fluffed my dark curls.

The extra spritz of jasmine perfume at my wrists and throat? Simply a confidence boost for a business meeting. Right. I had just lit the black and white candles at four corners of my consultation table when the shop's back door opened. I hadn't unlocked it. I hadn't given him permission to enter. Yet there he stood, Lucien Alvador, even more striking than in my memory, dressed in charcoal gray that made his burgundy eyes seem to glow in the candlelight. "Most people knock," I said, trying to sound irritated rather than intrigued. "Most people aren't expected." He moved into the room with that unsettling grace vampires possessed. "And you've been anticipating my arrival for hours. Your magic has been... reaching." I felt heat rise to my cheeks. Had my powers been broadcasting my thoughts all day? Mortifying if true. "I've prepared the consultation space," I said, gesturing to the table stiffly. "You mentioned information about the curse?" Lucien placed an ancient leather case on the table and opened it, revealing yellowed parchments and what appeared to be a small vial of black liquid. "The original curse was cast in 1321," he began, his voice taking on a scholar's precision. "A powerful witch whose lover was turned vampire discovered he could no longer love her. In her grief and rage, she created a curse that spread to all vampires, severing our connection to deeper emotions." I leaned forward, professional curiosity momentarily overriding my wariness. "That would require binding magic of extraordinary strength." "She sacrificed her own emotional capacity to fuel it," he confirmed. "The spell bound all vampires then existing and any subsequently created." "And what exactly are you hoping I can do?" I asked. "Breaking a seven-hundred-year-old curse cast by a witch powerful enough to affect an entire species isn't exactly a weekend project." Lucien's expression remained controlled, but I sensed something beneath the surface, frustration, perhaps. Or desperation. "For centuries, we believed the curse absolute," he said, sliding one parchment toward me. "But recently, I've experienced... anomalies." "What kind of anomalies?" "Emotional echoes. Brief sensations beyond hunger or anger." His eyes locked with mine. "They've been increasing in frequency and intensity since arriving in New Orleans three months ago. And last night, when we touched..." The memory of that electric connection made my skin tingle. I glanced down at the parchment, forcing myself to focus. The text was in Latin, the ink faded but still readable to someone with my training. "This mentions a counter-curse possibility," I translated aloud. "Through the bloodline of she who bound, liberation may be found." "The Thorne line descends from the original curse-caster," Lucien said quietly. "It's why I sought you specifically." I looked up sharply. "That's impossible. My family history-" "Is incomplete," he finished. "The witch's name was Helena Thorne. She came to the New World decades later and established a new identity, but vampires have long memories." My mind raced. If he was right, everything I thought I knew about my magical heritage was built on a convenient omission. It would explain our family's natural affinity for binding and breaking spells. "Even if that's true," I said carefully, "it doesn't explain why you would feel emotions around me." "Actually, it might." He reached toward the candle between us, letting his hand pass through the flame in a way no human could without burning. "The curse has a clause, the caster's direct blood may restore what was taken." I instinctively reached for the flame as well, our fingers nearly touching above it. To my shock, the fire responded, stretching upward between our hands, changing from orange to electric blue. "That is... not normal," I whispered. "No, it isn't," he agreed, his voice equally soft. "When I'm near you, Isadora, I feel things I haven't felt in four centuries." "What things?" The question escaped before I could stop it. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. "Curiosity. Impatience." His eyes dropped briefly to my lips. "Desire." The temperature in the room seemed to rise ten degrees. I pulled my hand back from the flame, which instantly returned to normal. "This is dangerous territory," I warned, though whether I was addressing him or myself wasn't entirely clear. "The Treaty of 1743 explicitly forbids magical cooperation between our kinds without Council oversight." "I'm familiar with the treaty," Lucien said. "My signature is on the original document." That revelation shouldn't have surprised me, but it drove home just how ancient the being across from me was. While I might look the older of us, me nearly thirty, him frozen in his apparent mid-twenties, he had existed through centuries I knew only from history books. "Then you understand why I can't help you," I said, though the words felt hollow. "My grandmother is Vivienne Thorne, head of the Witches' Council. If she discovered I was even entertaining this conversation..." "She would disown you," he finished. "I'm aware of Vivienne's... traditional views." The way he said "traditional" suggested a history there, but before I could question it, he reached across the table. I should have pulled back. Instead, I remained still as his cool fingers brushed a curl from my face, tucking it behind my ear. Blue sparks danced at the contact point, and I gasped at the rush of sensation, like plunging into ice water and being wrapped in warm velvet simultaneously. "What does it feel like for you?" he asked, his voice rougher than before. "Like... electricity," I admitted. "Magic, but not like any spell I've cast." "For me, it's emotions," he said. "When we touch, I feel everything vampires were meant to feel before the curse." His hand still lingered near my face, and against all better judgment, I leaned slightly into it. The sparks intensified, dancing across my skin. "And right now?" I whispered. His eyes darkened to the color of spilled wine. "Wonder. Fascination." His thumb brushed my lower lip, sending a shock through my entire body. "An overwhelming urge to discover if your mouth creates the same magic." I should have stood up. Should have reminded him of professional boundaries, of ancient treaties, of the fact that we were natural enemies. Instead, I remained frozen as he leaned across the table, closing the distance between us with deliberate slowness, giving me every opportunity to retreat. I didn't. When his lips touched mine, the candles flared to ceiling height. Every glass object in the shop vibrated. The magic that had simmered between us exploded into vivid blue-white sparks that rained down around us, harmless but brilliant. But those external phenomena paled compared to what happened within me, a rush of pure sensation that was equal parts magic and something far more primal. His kiss was cool at first, then warming as if my heat transferred to him. Gentle initially, then increasingly urgent as I responded. When his hand slid into my hair, cradling my head to deepen the kiss, I heard myself make a sound I'd never made before, halfway between a sigh and a plea. The sound seemed to break through whatever control he maintained. In a movement too swift to track, he was suddenly beside my chair, pulling me to my feet and against him. The full-body contact created a cascade of magical sparks that illuminated the entire shop in pulsing blue light. I should have been terrified. Instead, I wound my arms around his neck, pressed closer, lost myself in a kiss that made every previous romantic encounter in my life feel like a rehearsal for this moment. When his mouth moved to my throat, the brief moment of clarity was enough for my survival instincts to finally kick in. I pushed against his chest, breaking the connection. "Stop," I gasped. "We have to stop." Lucien stepped back immediately, though it clearly required effort. The magical light faded gradually, leaving only the normal candle glow. We stared at each other, both breathing hard, me from necessity, him from habit or perhaps to process whatever emotions our contact had triggered. "The treaty," I said, straightening my rumpled blouse with shaking hands. "Whatever just happened, it violates every agreement between our kinds." "Treaties can be rewritten," he said, still watching me with that intense gaze. "Not this one. Not without consequences." I moved farther away, needing distance to think clearly. "My grandmother would disown me, and that would be the kindest outcome. The Council could strip my powers completely." "And you believe your grandmother would do that? To her own blood?" I laughed without humor. "You clearly haven't met Vivienne Thorne. She built her reputation on enforcing the separation between witches and other supernatural beings, especially vampires. She would make an example of me to maintain her authority." Lucien was silent for a moment, his expression unreadable. "What if the curse breaking could benefit both our kinds? Change the power structure that keeps the treaty in place?" "You're talking revolution, not spell-breaking," I said. "Perhaps they're the same in this case." He moved toward the door, apparently recognizing I needed space. "Consider what happened tonight, Isadora. That magic wasn't just yours or mine, it was something new created between us. Something with potential beyond a simple curse-breaking." He paused at the threshold. "I'll return tomorrow night. If you leave the candles burning, I'll know you're willing to continue. If not, I won't bother you again." After he left, I sank back into my chair, my lips still tingling from his kiss, my mind racing with implications. I should report this encounter to the Council immediately. Should place stronger wards on my shop. Should run as far from Lucien Alvador as possible. Instead, I found myself wondering what other emotions my touch might awaken in him, and what it would feel like to experience them together. Dangerous territory, indeed.