Venomous Attraction

Shadows of His Past

Adrien didn’t often think about his human life. Not because he had forgotten—it was impossible to forget—but because remembering felt like reopening an old wound that would never heal. The years had dulled the edges of his pain, but the scars remained, etched deep into the fabric of his existence.

He sat alone in his small, dimly lit apartment above the antiquarian bookstore in Crescent Bay, the faint scent of old paper and sea air drifting through the cracked window. A single candle flickered on the desk before him, its warm glow reflecting in the dark glass of the room’s only mirror. Adrien’s reflection, faint and ghostly, stared back at him—a reminder of what he once was and what he could never be again.

The memories came unbidden, as they always did on nights like this.

France, 1684

The Château Belmont stood on the outskirts of a quiet village, its stone walls cold and imposing against the rolling green hills. Adrien had been born there, the youngest son of Baron Louis Belmont and his wife, Marguerite. It was a life of privilege, but not freedom. Adrien’s older brothers were groomed for inheritance and military service, while he was expected to follow a different path—to join the clergy or marry into another noble family, securing alliances and wealth.

But Adrien had never been one to follow expectations.

While his brothers practiced swordplay in the courtyard or pored over ledgers, Adrien roamed the forests, his sketchbook, and charcoal tucked under his arm. He loved the wild beauty of the world, the way sunlight filtered through the leaves, and the sound of birdsong carried on the breeze. He dreamed of a life beyond the château, beyond duty and obligation—a life where he could be free to create, to explore, to love.

That dream had ended on a warm summer night, under a blood-red moon.

Adrien remembered the way the village festival had lit up the night, the sound of laughter and music carrying through the air. He had snuck away from the château to join the revelry, disguising himself as a commoner to dance and drink among the townsfolk. It was there, amid the flickering lanterns and the scent of wine, that he had first seen her.

Lucienne.

She had been unlike anyone he had ever met—beautiful, poised, and mysterious, with an aura that drew him in like a moth to a flame. Her hair fell in dark waves over her shoulders, her eyes glinting like molten gold. When she spoke, her voice was like a melody, her words wrapping around him like a spell.

“You don’t belong here,” she had said, a playful smile curving her lips.

“And neither do you,” Adrien had replied, emboldened by wine and the sheer audacity of her gaze.

Lucienne had laughed, a sound both enchanting and unsettling. “Perhaps we are kindred spirits, then.”

That night, she had lured him into the woods with promises of adventure and secrets beyond imagining. He had followed willingly, caught in the thrall of her presence, oblivious to the danger.

By the time he realized the truth—that Lucienne was no ordinary woman—it was too late.