Chapter 4 Four

I kept the candles lit.

After hours of restless tossing, my mind tangled with hesitation, curiosity battling with caution, logic clashing with something deeper, I finally made up my mind. Maybe I'd known my choice all along. Maybe I had just needed time to admit it.

Either way, when night rolled in again, four white candles glowed softly in the window of my shop, sending a silent message to anyone paying attention. To any vampire who knew what it meant.

I spent the day buried in research, pulling every grimoire and magic text from the Thorne collection that mentioned blood curses. My shop remained "closed for inventory" while I spread ancient texts across every surface, frantically translating passages in languages dead for centuries.

The answers I found weren't comforting.

By sunset, I had created a small ritual space in my back room. Black cloth draped the consultation table. Silver bowls containing herbs and crystals marked the cardinal points. Ancient symbols drawn in chalk formed a circle on the floor around the table. Everything was ready except my nerves, which jangled like wind chimes in a hurricane.

When Lucien arrived, entering silently through the back door again, his eyes took in the ritual preparations with a single sweep.

"You've been busy," he said, setting down a small wooden box he'd brought with him. "What have you discovered?"

I gestured to the grimoire open on my desk, its yellowed pages covered in my ancestor's handwriting. "According to Helena Thorne's private journals, the curse works by binding the emotional capacity of vampires to her own blood. She literally tied your kind's ability to feel to her bloodline."

"Which explains why I feel echoes near you," Lucien concluded. "Your blood calls to what was taken from me."

"From all vampires," I corrected. "But yes. The proximity seems to create a temporary effect. The closer we are, the stronger the effect."

"And when we touch..." he began.

"When we touch, the magic recognizes both curse and cure in proximity and tries to correct the imbalance." I ran my finger along a passage in the grimoire. "Helena designed a fail-safe-perhaps out of regret or simply magical pride. Any direct descendant of her line has the potential to reverse what she did."

Lucien stepped closer, not quite touching me but near enough that I could feel the coolness radiating from his skin. "And have you found a way to do so?"

Here was the difficult part. I took a deep breath.

"Theoretically, yes. But it requires blood magic." I finally met his eyes. "My blood, freely given, combined with a ritual to unbind what she bound."

His expression remained carefully neutral, but something flickered in those burgundy eyes-hunger, perhaps, or hope. Or both.

"Blood magic is forbidden by your Council," he said quietly.

"Along with about a dozen other laws this would break." I gave a short laugh that held no humor. "Seems my ancestor had a vindictive streak. The only way to break her curse requires her descendants to risk everything."

Lucien moved to the ritual space, examining the symbols on the floor. "You've prepared for the ritual."

"Knowledge doesn't equal commitment," I said, but the protest sounded weak even to my ears. We both knew I wouldn't have gone this far if I weren't willing to see it through.

"What would the ritual entail?" he asked.

I picked up Helena's grimoire and brought it to the table. "It's relatively simple, magically speaking. The complex part is the blood exchange. You would need to... drink directly from me while I recite the counter-curse."

Speaking the words aloud made my heart race. Vampires drinking witch blood was taboo for good reason, our blood carried our magic, our essence. Sharing it created connections that couldn't be easily severed.

"And you're willing to risk that?" Lucien's voice had dropped lower, a tension threading through his words.

"I haven't decided yet," I lied, then sighed at his knowing look. "Fine. Yes. I'm willing. But there are conditions."

"Name them."

"First, this remains between us. No one, not even your vampire council, can know. Second, we set clear boundaries about what this does and doesn't mean. And third-" I hesitated, then forged ahead. "If at any point I tell you to stop, you stop immediately. No questions, no hesitation."

"Agreed to all three," he said without pause. "I have conditions of my own."

That surprised me. "Which are?"

"If the ritual works, even partially, I want your help understanding what changes occur. And if it puts you in danger in any way, from your Council, from other vampires, from the magic itself, you'll allow me to protect you."

The thought of being under a vampire's protection should have offended my independence. Instead, I felt a complicated warmth spread through my chest.

"Agreed," I said. "Though I reserve the right to protect myself as well."

The ghost of a smile touched his lips. "I wouldn't expect anything less from a Thorne witch."

He opened the wooden box he'd brought, revealing an ornate silver dagger with runes etched along the blade. "This belonged to Helena. It's been in my possession for centuries."

I stared at him. "You knew her."

"I was among the first turned after the curse was cast," he said quietly. "I watched her cast it, watched what it did to my maker and the others. She gave me this dagger afterward, though I never understood why until now."

I accepted the dagger carefully, feeling the weight of centuries in my palm. The magic in it recognized me, warming against my skin in a way it wouldn't for anyone outside my bloodline.

"The ritual should be performed at midnight," I said, setting the dagger beside one of the silver bowls. "We have a few hours. I should explain exactly what will happen."

We spent those hours preparing. I explained each element of the ritual while Lucien listened with scholarly attention, asking questions that revealed his own knowledge of magic. In another life, he might have been a practitioner himself.

As midnight approached, nervous energy made my movements jittery. I lit black candles around the ritual space, their flames stretching unnaturally tall in the still air.

"Are you certain about this?" Lucien asked as I took my position at the table.

"No," I admitted. "But I'm doing it anyway."

He nodded once, respecting my honesty. "Where do you want me?"

"Sit across from me." I gestured to the chair opposite mine. "The grimoire says we need to maintain eye contact during the blood exchange."

As he took his seat, I felt the atmosphere in the room shift, pressure building like the air before a thunderstorm. My magic responded, rising to the surface of my skin, making the candle flames dance.

"We'll need to join hands first," I said, extending mine across the table, palms up.

Lucien placed his hands in mine. The now-familiar blue sparks appeared at the contact points, but more controlled this time, swirling around our joined hands like miniature galaxies.

I began the incantation, Latin phrases flowing from memory as I'd practiced all day. The chalk symbols around us began to glow with soft blue light that matched the sparks between our hands. The candle flames turned from orange to blue, and the herbs in the silver bowls ignited without being touched.

"Now," I whispered as the magic reached its first peak.

Lucien released my hands. I picked up Helena's dagger, pressing the tip to my inner wrist where my pulse beat visibly beneath the skin. I hesitated only a moment before drawing the blade across in a quick, shallow cut.

Blood welled immediately, bright red against my skin. The magic in the room surged in response, the blue light intensifying until it cast strange shadows across Lucien's face.

He took my wrist gently, his cool fingers steadying my hand. Our eyes locked as he brought my wrist to his mouth.

The first touch of his lips against my skin sent a shock through my entire body. I continued the incantation, my voice wavering as he drank, each pull of his mouth sending waves of sensation through me that were nothing like the pain I'd expected.

Instead, I felt... connection. As if invisible threads were weaving between us, binding us together in ways I couldn't fully comprehend. My magic responded to his presence, to his needs, offering itself along with my blood in a way I hadn't anticipated.

Through our growing connection, I felt the moment the curse began to fracture. Lucien's grip on my wrist tightened as emotions long suppressed flooded through him, seven centuries of feeling, compressed into seconds. His eyes, still locked with mine, widened in shock, the burgundy darkening to almost black.

I felt echoes of what he experienced, wonder, fear, desire, grief, all tangled together in a rush that threatened to overwhelm us both. The boundary between us blurred as the magic built, my blood carrying my essence into him while his emotions flowed back to me.

When he finally drew back from my wrist, his breathing was ragged. A single drop of my blood clung to his lower lip, vivid red against his pale skin. Without thinking, I reached across and wiped it away with my thumb.

The simple touch triggered another cascade of magic. Blue light erupted between us, enveloping us both in a cocoon of energy that lifted us from our chairs. For a suspended moment, we hovered there, connected by forces neither of us fully controlled.

Then reality reasserted itself. The magic receded gradually, setting us back in our chairs. The candles returned to normal flame. The chalk symbols stopped glowing. But the connection between us remained, a humming awareness of each other that hadn't existed before.

"Isadora," Lucien whispered, his voice rough. "I can feel... everything."

He stood abruptly, moving around the table with that inhuman grace, pulling me to my feet before I could respond. His hands framed my face, his eyes searching mine with an intensity that made my breath catch.

"Your emotions," he said wonderingly. "I can feel them alongside my own." His thumb traced my cheekbone. "You're afraid. But also..."

"Curious," I finished for him. "Exhilarated."

"Desire," he added, his voice dropping lower. "It's overwhelming after so long without it."

I should have stepped back. Should have reminded us both about professional boundaries and the dangers of what we'd just done. Instead, I leaned into his touch, the magic between us spiraling higher with each passing second.

"Is this the curse breaking, or something else?" I whispered.

"Both, I think." His gaze dropped to my lips. "The ritual created a temporary bond. Your blood is still in my system, your magic still intertwined with what remains of mine."

The implications should have terrified me. A magical bond with a vampire prince was exactly the sort of complication I'd sworn to avoid. But in that moment, with his emotions flowing through me alongside my own, fear seemed irrelevant compared to the pull between us.

When he kissed me, it was nothing like our first kiss. That had been exploration, discovery. This was knowledge, certainty, inevitability. My back hit the bookshelf as he pressed closer, books tumbling unheeded to the floor. I gripped his shoulders, the solid coolness of him grounding me as the magic threatened to sweep us both away.

Through our temporary bond, I felt his struggle for control, felt the clash between newborn emotions and centuries-old restraint. His hand slid into my hair, cradling my head as he deepened the kiss. I responded with equal fervor, my magic reaching for him, welcoming him. When his mouth moved to my throat, I tipped my head back in offering, lost in the dual sensations of physical touch and emotional resonance.

"I can feel how much you want this," he murmured against my skin. "It's... intoxicating."

"That's cheating," I gasped as his teeth, normal teeth, not fangs, grazed the sensitive spot below my ear. "The bond goes both ways. I can feel your control slipping."

He made a sound between a laugh and a groan. "Seven hundred years of discipline unraveling because of one witch."

"Not just any witch," I reminded him, tugging him back up to my mouth. "A Thorne witch."

The kiss turned hungry, demanding. My hands found their way under his shirt, tracing the cool perfection of his skin. His palm skimmed down my side to my hip, fingers digging in just enough to make me gasp against his mouth. Books continued to fall around us as we pressed against the shelves, lost in the feedback loop of desire that flowed through our temporary bond.

It was Lucien who finally pulled back, though it clearly required immense effort. His eyes had darkened to the color of midnight, and I could feel the war within him, newly awakened emotions battling centuries of careful control.

"We need to stop," he said, his voice rougher than I'd ever heard it. "The bond is affecting us both more strongly than I anticipated."

I nodded, equally breathless, though stopping was the last thing I wanted. "The ritual wasn't supposed to create this kind of connection."

"Blood magic rarely follows rules." He stepped back further, putting necessary distance between us. "Especially not when combined with a curse this old."

As the physical connection broke, the emotional feedback began to fade, though not completely. I could still sense him at the edges of my consciousness, a presence that wasn't me but wasn't entirely separate either.

"How long will it last?" I asked, straightening my rumpled clothes with shaking hands.

"I don't know." He ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "This is uncharted territory."

I sank into my chair, suddenly aware of the ache in my wrist where I'd cut myself. The wound had mostly closed, vampire saliva contained natural coagulants, but it throbbed in time with my still-racing heart.

"Did it work?" I asked. "Beyond the... side effects."

Lucien took a moment to assess himself, his expression thoughtful. "Partially. I can feel things I couldn't before... subtle emotions beyond the basic instincts the curse allowed. But it's not complete. I suspect we've weakened Helena's curse rather than broken it entirely."

"So we'd need to repeat the ritual." The thought sent a complicated thrill through me that I tried to suppress, aware he might still be able to sense it.

The slight quirk of his mouth told me I'd failed. "Perhaps. Or find another approach now that we understand more about how the curse functions." He gathered the fallen books, restoring them to the shelf with methodical care. "But not tonight. You need rest. Blood loss, magic expenditure, and emotional upheaval are a dangerous combination."

As if his words had granted permission, exhaustion hit me like a physical force. I swayed slightly in my chair.

Lucien was beside me instantly, steadying me with a hand on my shoulder. "Can you make it upstairs to your apartment, or should I carry you?"

The thought of being in his arms again was both tempting and dangerous. "I can walk. But... will you stay? Just until the bond fades?" I hurried to add, "In case there are complications."

We both knew it was a flimsy excuse, but he nodded anyway. "Until dawn, then. After that, I'll need to return to the Quarter before sunrise."

As we extinguished candles and secured the shop for the night, I tried to imagine explaining any of this to Zoe or, gods forbid, my grandmother. A blood ritual, a partial curse-breaking, and a magical bond with the vampire prince of New Orleans, all in a single night.

Zoe would demand details over cocktails. Gran would disown me on the spot.

Yet watching Lucien move about my space with careful respect for my belongings, feeling the ghost of his emotions still whispering at the edges of my consciousness, I couldn't bring myself to regret any of it.

Again, dangerous territory, indeed, and I was venturing deeper with every step.