THE VAMPIRIC POTION

Lucien's thrust for blood dies

Chapter 2

Valerie flipped through the thick, dusty pages of her ancestor’s spellbook, her eyes glimmering like fire under candlelight. Between strange drawings of moons and herbs, she found a paragraph that made her pause —

> “A witch of flame can ease the thirst of the blood-born.”

Her lips curled into a slow, mischievous smile. “Ease the thirst, huh? Let’s see if that works on him.”

And of course, him meant Lucien — the infuriatingly charming vampire who somehow turned every serious moment into a flirt session.

When she told him she needed him for an experiment, Lucien leaned against the wall with his usual smirk. “Experiment? Does it involve you staring into my eyes for hours? Because, fair warning, I don’t mind.”

Valerie rolled her eyes. “It’s a ritual. You’ll have to sit still.”

“Oh, I can sit very still. Especially if it means spending time with you.”

She pretended not to hear the teasing tone and began preparing. The air grew heavy as she lit the candles and drew a faint golden circle around him. Lucien watched her closely — not because of the ritual, but because she looked absolutely enchanting when focused.

The spell began. Valerie’s voice was calm but strong, ancient words spilling softly from her lips. For a moment, nothing happened. The wind didn’t move. The candles didn’t flicker. Lucien blinked once. Then twice.

He tilted his head with a mocking grin. “Was that it? Because if you were trying to hypnotize me, you might have to—”

Before he could finish, his smirk disappeared. His eyes widened, and he fell to his knees, clutching his head.

“Lucien!” Valerie gasped, rushing to him. She reached out to undo the spell, but his hand shot up, grabbing her wrist tightly.

“Don’t—” he rasped, his voice rough with pain.

The moment stretched. Thirty seconds felt like hours, the air filled with the sound of his sharp breaths. Then it was over. He exhaled, still on his knees, while Valerie wrapped her arms around him instinctively, patting his back like he was a child who’d tripped.

“See? This is what happens when you mock my magic,” she whispered, half-concerned, half-scolding.

Lucien, still catching his breath, glanced up at her with a faint grin. “If this is your way of getting me to hug you, witch, it worked.”

She scoffed and pushed him lightly, but her cheeks had turned pink.

He stood, brushing himself off, pretending nothing happened. “I feel… fine. Maybe a little dizzy. But fine.”

Valerie frowned. “Then maybe it didn’t work…”

“Or maybe,” he said slyly, leaning closer, “your magic just needed more practice on me.”

She rolled her eyes again — though this time, with a smile she couldn’t hide.

---

That evening, Lucien danced lazily in his living room, a spoon of ice cream in one hand and his phone in the other. Music filled the space — something upbeat and ridiculous for a centuries-old vampire.

He popped open a blood bag from the fridge, still moving to the beat. “To Valerie’s magic,” he toasted mockingly, taking a sip—

And immediately gagged.

“What the— did someone mix this with sand?”

He tried another. Same result. Then another. And another. Each one worse than the last.

Lucien finally threw the last bag into the bin, staring at it in disbelief. A slow, proud smile spread across his face.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered, shaking his head with amusement. “The witch actually did it.”

He leaned back on the couch, grinning to himself. “Gosh, how much more awesome can she get?”

And though he’d never admit it out loud, the thought of her — her determination, her worry, her fire — made his undead heart beat just a little faster.

The Rusty Fang was Lucien’s favorite bar — a cozy little place that looked like it hadn’t realized the Wild West ended centuries ago. Wooden floors, swinging saloon doors, and a jukebox that worked only when you kicked it twice.

Valerie pushed the doors open, her red coat fluttering behind her as the scent of old liquor and wood smoke filled the air. Her eyes quickly found him — leaning back in his favorite corner, sipping cider like he was the sheriff of the place.

“So,” she began, walking over and taking the stool next to him. “How’s it going?”

Lucien didn’t even glance at her. He swirled the amber liquid in his glass and said, “Oh, you know. The usual. Woke up, nearly bit someone, changed my mind, had breakfast instead.”

She raised an eyebrow. “So, normal vampire problems.”

He smirked. “Something like that.”

The bartender slid her a glass of cider, and she took a slow sip, watching him carefully. There was something different about him — lighter somehow. No dark circles, no restless glint in his eyes. Just calm… and annoyingly smug.

“Any... side effects?” she asked, pretending to sound casual.

Lucien’s lips twitched. “Side effects?”

“You know,” she said, tapping the rim of her glass. “From that little experiment.”

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low, teasing drawl. “Oh, that. Well, let’s just say—” He paused, glancing at the golden cider in his hand. “—some flavors in life suddenly taste better... while others now feel like dust.”

Valerie’s eyes narrowed. “That sounds suspiciously poetic for someone who once described cupcakes as ‘edible clouds of sugar suffering.’”

Lucien chuckled, looking pleased with himself. “What can I say? You bring out the poet in me.”

“So it worked,” she pressed, unable to hide her smile.

He tilted his head, feigning confusion. “Worked? Oh, I wouldn’t know. I’m just a humble vampire who now prefers cider to—well, you know.” He took a sip, eyes glinting with mischief. “Let’s call it… divine coincidence.”

Valerie rolled her eyes but laughed. “Divine coincidence, huh? Should I thank the heavens or myself?”

“Both,” he said smoothly. “But if you’re taking credit, I’ll take another round.”

She groaned but waved to the bartender anyway.

They sat there for a moment, cider glasses clinking lightly, a warm silence settling between them. Valerie tried not to stare at how the dim light caught the edges of his smile, and Lucien tried not to think about how her laughter made the whole place feel less... dead.

Finally, she leaned back, teasing, “So, Mr. Divine Coincidence, are you ever going to admit that my magic worked?”

Lucien looked at her, eyes gleaming. “Maybe I will… when you admit that you enjoy spending time with me.”

Valerie almost choked on her drink. “That’s not even the same thing!”

He raised his glass in mock salute. “It is to me.”

And as she tried to hide her flustered smile, Lucien thought — not for the first time — that her magic might’ve done more than just take away his thirst.

Lucien didn’t need blood anymore — not like before. But to keep up appearances, he still sipped a few drops every few days. Just enough to keep the other vampires from asking questions. Not enough to make him feel alive.

And today, he was feeling too alive for his own good.

Across the courtyard, Valerie stood on a ladder, busy helping Marianne decorate the ceiling with ribbons and lanterns for one of her event clients. Her hair was tied up messily, a strand falling loose against her cheek, and she was muttering something about “ribbon symmetry” like it was a matter of national importance.

Lucien leaned against the wall, watching her with that lazy grin of his. “You know,” he called out, “for someone who controls fire, you seem terrified of falling.”

Valerie glared down at him. “And for someone who doesn’t have a pulse, you sure talk a lot.”

That made him chuckle — which was exactly when the mischief hit him. With the most innocent expression he could muster (which wasn’t very convincing), Lucien walked over and tugged the ladder a little closer to himself.

Just enough to make it wobble.

“LuciEN!” Valerie shrieked, clutching the ladder for dear life. “Stop it, you undead menace!”

“Relax,” he said, voice full of laughter. “I’m just making sure you don’t… fall for someone else.”

She shot him a look so fierce that if looks could burn, he’d be ashes. Still, he didn’t move.

Then the ladder shook again, this time because she grabbed his collar to steady herself, dragging him half an inch closer. “If I fall and break my leg, I swear—”

Her words stopped. Just like that.

Something sharp hit her senses — the faint metallic tang of blood. She frowned, eyes flicking to his mouth.

Lucien froze. He hadn’t even realized a drop had smeared the corner of his lip from earlier.

Valerie’s tone softened, confusion flickering in her eyes. “You’ve been drinking again?”

Before he could come up with a snarky answer, she leaned down slightly, her gaze locked on his lips. Lucien’s usual smirk vanished. Every part of him went still.

And then—

Her lips brushed against his. Just a ghost of a touch, soft and fleeting, but enough to make his dead heart forget itself for a second.

She blinked, startled at her own action, and climbed down the last step. He expected her to scold him again, maybe threaten to set his hair on fire. Instead, she looked at him with an unreadable expression, then stepped closer — and kissed him properly.

This time, he kissed her back. Slow. Careful. Like she was something sacred.

When she finally pulled away, her face was calm, though her cheeks betrayed her with the faintest blush. “That’s for scaring me,” she muttered.

Lucien stood there speechless — which was a miracle in itself — and for the first time in centuries, color crept up his own cheeks. His ears even turned pink. He quickly turned his head away, but Valerie had already noticed.

“Aw,” she teased. “Vampires can blush now?”

He coughed dramatically. “That was the lighting.”

“Sure it was.”

And with that, she walked off, her laughter echoing through the courtyard.

---

That night, Lucien lay on his couch, staring at the ceiling like a man possessed. His grin refused to leave his face.

He had fought hunters, faced death, and survived centuries of loneliness — but none of that compared to the sheer chaos one kiss from that witch had caused in his chest.

“First kiss initiated by her,” he murmured to himself, his grin widening. “Guess I win this century.”

Then he laughed — the kind of deep, boyish laugh that echoed through his mansion — until even the walls seemed to chuckle with him.

Lucien was still smiling like a maniac, lying sprawled across his couch with his arm dramatically thrown over his eyes. “First kiss initiated by her,” he murmured again, half in disbelief, half in delight. “If this isn’t romance, I don’t know what is.”

He rolled over and let out a content sigh. Life was perfect. Or, well, unlife.

But then — a sound.

It was faint, like someone whispering from far away. Then another voice, sharper, mixed with a rustle of branches. His sharp vampire hearing twitched like a radar dish. He frowned and sat up.

“Who’s wandering in my woods at this hour?” he muttered, squinting at the window. “If it’s that old raccoon again, I swear—”

The noise came again — this time a soft, eerie crack of twigs.

Lucien froze. The confident grin on his face vanished. “Nope. Nope, that’s not a raccoon.”

He stood, brushing imaginary dust off his shirt, and grabbed a nearby candle holder — because of course, why use vampire strength when you can carry a candle like a scared child?

“Okay,” he whispered to himself, taking a cautious step toward the door. “You’re a powerful vampire, Lucien. You’ve survived hunters, curses, heartbreaks— you can handle… ghost noises.”

Another branch snapped.

“Alright, maybe not ghost noises,” he said quickly, inching forward anyway.

His steps through the dark forest were slow, comically careful. Every leaf crunch made him flinch just slightly. “If it’s a ghost,” he muttered, “I’m moving to the city. I swear I’m done with forests.”

Then he saw a figure — a familiar one. A slender back framed by the silvery moonlight. The tension instantly melted from his shoulders, replaced by relief.

“Oh, it’s you,” he said with an exaggerated sigh, walking closer. “Practicing your magic again, are we? Let me guess — trying to wake up the dead people for a midnight tea party?”

Valerie turned around slowly.

The teasing smirk faded from his lips.

Her face was pale, her eyes wide and wet with tears. Blood stained her mouth and hand, dripping down her wrist like red ink.

“I don’t… I don’t know what happened,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I just— I almost killed someone.”

Lucien’s entire body went still. His mind blanked.

Then, faster than she could blink, he was right in front of her, holding her by the shoulders. “What do you mean almost? Did you— did you drink—?”

“I didn’t mean to!” she choked out, shaking her head, tears streaming down her face. “I was just trying a spell and then I— I couldn’t stop myself.”

Lucien’s chest tightened. For the first time in centuries, he wasn’t afraid for himself — he was terrified for her.

He grabbed her wrist, pressing two fingers to her pulse. Then his hand went to her neck, checking again.

Still beating. Warm. Alive.

He exhaled — shaky, relieved. “You’re not turned,” he said softly, more to himself than to her. “You’re still human. Or… witch. Whatever you are.”

Valerie looked up at him, eyes glassy. “Then why did it feel so real?”

Lucien met her gaze, his usual playfulness completely gone. “Because magic is messy,” he said quietly. “Especially when it’s trying to protect you from something you don’t understand.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Only the sound of the wind brushing through the trees, carrying away her sobs.

Then Lucien gently wiped the blood from her chin with his thumb. “Next time,” he murmured, trying for a hint of humor, “warn me before you go all Dracula-in-training, alright?”

A weak laugh slipped from her lips. “I wasn’t trying to.”

“I know.” He smiled faintly, though his eyes were still worried. “And I’ll make sure you don’t have to.”

He wrapped his coat around her shoulders, leading her back toward the mansion. The night behind them whispered with secrets, but for once, Lucien didn’t look back.