Chapter 5 Five

I woke up to sunlight spilling through my bedroom curtains, feeling groggy and warm. The dream had been so intense that shaking it off felt like suddenly being jolted awake.

Lucien. I'd been dreaming of Lucien.

Not just dreaming about him, but dreaming with him, as if we'd occupied the same mental space. His hands tangled in my hair, my back against cool silk sheets, whispered words in languages I shouldn't understand but somehow did.

My inner wrist still bore the mark where I'd cut myself during the blood ritual, now a thin pink line almost healed. I traced it gently, remembering Lucien's mouth against my skin. The memory sent a flush of heat through me.

True to his word, Lucien had stayed only until dawn. I vaguely remembered him slipping from my apartment as the first hint of daylight appeared, his touch lingering on my cheek as he whispered something I couldn't quite recall.

Now, fully awake, I had to contend with the consequences. A blood bond with a vampire prince wasn't covered in the standard grimoires, nor in the Witches' Council handbook of acceptable practices.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand with a text from an unknown number: Did you dream?

My heart rate doubled. I knew instantly who it was from, though I hadn't given Lucien my number.

I hesitated, then typed: Yes. You?

The response came immediately: Intensely. We need to talk about the bond. It's stronger than I anticipated.

I replied: Shop closed today. Come after sunset.

After a pause: Until then, try not to think of me too intently. The connection seems... responsive.

Heat crept up my neck at the implication. Could he sense me even now, kilometers away?

Noted, I replied, then set the phone down.

I threw myself into mundane tasks throughout the morning, anything to keep my mind occupied and away from burgundy eyes and cool hands and dreams that felt too real.

By late afternoon, I'd unlocked the front door to bring in a delivery of herbs when I noticed a tall figure leaning against the building across the street, watching my shop with unmistakable focus.

At first glance, he looked human, broad-shouldered, solid, dressed in faded jeans and a leather jacket. But something was off. He was too still, his movements too controlled, carrying a quiet intensity that felt more like a hunter sizing up prey.

Vampire. Not Lucien, though.

I signed for my delivery without taking my eyes off him. When the delivery man left, I stared directly at the vampire, letting him know he'd been spotted.

He crossed the street with deliberate steps. As he came closer, I noted a scar running from his right temple to his jaw, dark eyes that assessed everything with military precision.

"Miss Thorne," he said, his voice a low rumble with the barest hint of an accent. "I'm Raphael Winters. Lucien sent me."

"Did he now? And what exactly did Lucien send you to do, Mr. Winters?"

"Rafe," he corrected. "And he sent me to ensure your safety during daylight hours, following last night's... development."

"I don't need a vampire bodyguard," I said. "Especially not during daylight hours when your kind is at it's weakest."

Something like amusement flickered across his stoic features. "I'm not at my strongest, true, but I assure you I'm more than capable. The ritual you performed has created ripples. Word travels fast in the supernatural community."

"What kind of ripples?"

"The magical kind." Rafe nodded toward my shop. "May we continue this conversation inside?"

Once inside, I locked the door and demanded, "Explain these 'ripples.'"

"The curse Lucien carries has been steady for centuries," he said, casually scanning the shelves. "Any disturbance sets off a magical ripple, like dropping a stone in a calm pond, something sensitive beings can pick up on."

"And what exactly are they sensing?"

"That a Thorne witch and the vampire prince are about to do something no one's dared before. And not everyone wants things to change."

I thought of the rogues who'd cornered me. "Like whoever sent those vampires after me."

"Precisely." He picked up a protection amulet. "Nice work. Your own?"

"Yes. I specialize in protection and binding magic."

"Fitting, given your lineage." He set the amulet down. "The prince asked me to stay nearby while you're awake. I won't interfere unless there's a threat."

"And you always do what Lucien asks?"

Something complicated passed across Rafe's face. "I've served the prince for two hundred and twelve years. I've never seen him as... invested in someone as he is in you."

"Is that approval or warning?"

"Observation," he said simply. "My personal opinions aren't relevant."

"But you have them."

He almost smiled. "Everyone has opinions, Miss Thorne."

"Isadora," I corrected.

"Isadora," he acknowledged. "My purpose is your protection, not judgment. Though I'd advise caution with the blood bond. Such things have... unexpected consequences."

As if summoned by his words, a wave of sensation washed over me, not my own feelings, but echoes filtering through the bond. Desire, curiosity, frustration, Lucien was thinking of me.

"The bond is active," Rafe said. "You can feel him."

I nodded. "It comes and goes. Stronger when one of us is... thinking intently about the other."

"Blood bonds between vampires and witches are rare for good reason. They tend to intensify rather than fade."

"It's temporary," I insisted, not sure if I was trying to convince him or myself.

We worked in surprisingly comfortable silence for the next hour, Rafe proving knowledgeable about not just herbs but their magical properties. Occasionally, I would feel pulses of emotion through the bond, persistent reminders of the connection Lucien and I now shared.

As sunset approached, Rafe glanced toward the door. "He'll be here soon."

"How do you know?"

"The bond will draw him to you as soon as he wakes. It's in the nature of such... connections."

Before I could question him further, a familiar presence brushed against my consciousness, Lucien, moving closer with every passing second.

"Beneficial side effect," Rafe commented. "You'll always know when danger approaches, or when he does."

"Are you implying those are the same thing?"

This time, Rafe did smile. "Perceptive witch." He moved toward the back door. "I'll leave you to your discussion."

"Thank you. For the help today."

He nodded once. "He chose well in you, Isadora Thorne. Whether that's fortunate or tragic remains to be seen."

When the back door opened again moments later, I didn't need to turn to know it was Lucien. The bond flared between us, sudden and electric. I took a deep breath before facing him.

He stood just inside the door, studying me with an intensity that made my pulse quicken. He looked different somehow, still unnaturally beautiful, but with a new vitality.

"The dream," I said without preamble.

"Was shared," he confirmed. "An unexpected development."

"Like the bond itself. You didn't warn me about dream walking."

"I didn't know it would happen. Blood bonds between vampires and witches are rare. The available literature on it is... limited."

"Your enforcer seems to know something about them."

"To protect you," Lucien corrected when I mentioned Rafe's presence. "There's a difference."

"The dream was... vivid."

"Yes." His voice dropped lower. "And mutual. I felt everything you felt. Saw everything through your eyes as well as mine."

Heat flooded my cheeks at the memory, the dream versions of ourselves tangled together in ways far more intimate than our waking encounter.

"It's the bond," I said, trying to maintain some professional distance. "Dreams are the most vulnerable state of consciousness."

"A logical explanation, but it doesn't account for the intensity, nor how specific it was." Lucien paused. "What did Rafe tell you about blood bonds?"

"That they tend to intensify rather than fade."

"Did he mention why?"

I shook my head.

"Blood bonds between our kinds were common before the curse. They were one way vampires and witches maintained alliances."

"And after the curse?"

"They became unpredictable. Dangerous. Without emotional capacity, vampires could no longer maintain the balance the bond requires. Many witches were driven mad by the emptiness on the other side of the connection."

A chill ran through me. "Are you saying the bond is dangerous because the curse is only partially broken?"

"No. I'm saying it's dangerous because it is partially broken. I can feel enough to feed the bond, but not enough to fully control my response to it."

As if to demonstrate, a wave of desire pulsed through our connection. I gasped at the sudden rush of sensation, gripping the edge of the counter.

"That," he said softly, "is what makes this dangerous. What I feel affects you. What you feel affects me. Each response amplifies the original emotion."

"So last night when we nearly lost control, it was the bond enhancing what was already there."

"And the dream was our subconscious minds exploring the connection without restraints." He was close enough now that I could feel the coolness radiating from his skin. "Tell me what you remember."

The direct question sent images flashing through my mind, his mouth on my throat, my hands tracing the planes of his chest. The memories flooded through the bond, and I felt Lucien's immediate response, a surge of desire that mirrored my own.

"That is what makes this so complicated."

I forced myself to step back. "We need to figure out how to control it. If the bond is getting stronger instead of weaker, we need boundaries."

"No touching, for starters," I suggested. "It intensifies the connection."

"Difficult, but manageable. What about the dreams?"

"I don't know how to prevent those, but we could try sleeping at different times."

He raised an eyebrow. "You suggest I adopt a daylight schedule?"

"It would solve several problems at once. No shared dreams, and no need to send your enforcer to watch over me."

"Raphael is more than an enforcer. He's been my closest advisor for centuries."

A question formed in my mind, flowing through the bond before I could frame it in words: What does he know that I don't?

"Blood bonds can create dependencies in both parties that outlast the initial purpose."

"You mean addiction."

"Of a sort. To the connection itself, rather than the blood. And to the emotions it produces."

The implication hung between us, that what we felt might not be entirely real, but rather a product of the magical connection we'd created.

"Does it matter? If the feelings are created by the bond rather than... whatever this is between us?"

"It matters because when the bond eventually breaks, the loss can be devastating, especially for the vampire, who returns to the emotional void of the curse"

I hadn't considered that perspective, that our efforts might create a temporary reprieve followed by an even more painful return to his cursed state.

"Don't pity me, Isadora," he said. "I've existed with this curse for seven centuries. I understood the risks when I sought you out."

"Did you? Did you know we'd create a blood bond? That we'd share dreams? That you'd feel things you haven't felt in centuries only to potentially lose them again?"

"No, but I knew there would be consequences. There always are when changing the natural order."

His acceptance stirred something in me, admiration for the courage it took to risk feeling after so long without emotions.

"We'll find a way to break the curse completely," I said with conviction. "Not just for you, but for all vampires affected by it."

Lucien studied me, something like wonder filtering through our bond. "Your grandmother would disown you for even suggesting such a thing."

"My grandmother doesn't know everything about our family history. Or about the true nature of the curse."

"No, she doesn't. But there are others who do... others who will oppose us at every turn."

"Then we'll need to be careful. Starting with managing this bond."

"Sleep during different hours," Lucien said. "No physical contact. Emotional discipline when we're conscious of the bond's activity."

"And researching how to control it. There must be texts somewhere about blood bonds between our kinds."

"I'll have Raphael search the archives. And in the meantime?"

"In the meantime, we learn to live with the consequences of what we've done while working toward what we need to do next."

As he moved toward the door, I felt his reluctance to leave, mirroring my own. We needed distance to manage the bond, yet craved proximity for the very same reason.

"Isadora," he said, pausing at the threshold. "Despite the complications, I don't regret it."

Through our connection, I knew he meant the ritual, the bond, the dreams, all of it.

"Neither do I," I admitted. "Though I probably should."

After he left, I locked the door and leaned against it, letting out a long breath. The bond hummed at a lower frequency with distance, but remained active, like background music I couldn't quite tune out.

The magic we'd stirred up was leading us into uncharted territory, with consequences I couldn't even begin to predict. But despite the warnings, despite the risks, the part of me that had always craved forbidden knowledge insisted that some gambles were worth it, especially when they involved burgundy eyes and the chance to shatter a centuries-old curse.

I just hoped we'd make it through in one piece.