g, 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 embar

el 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