Page 19 of Valentine's With A Vampire

One shaky breath leads to another. I swallow the ache rising in my throat, bracing for the unknown. If this truly is fate, then I don’t know how to fix it. If it’s just some cosmic joke, maybe I’ll wake up tomorrow and carry on. I told him I learned to keep my heart guarded. Now I discover too late that the guard isn’t enough when magic decides otherwise.

Standing there in the half-darkness, I remember the warmth of his skin and the look in his eyes when he first kissed me. Something deep inside me hopes he’ll come to terms with the lantern’s sign. Another part whispers it’s best to let him run. I can’t decide.

A single tear slips free, trailing down my cheek. I let it fall. No illusions can fix the raw sting in my chest. The enchantment that lit our moment now stands between us like a wall. He fled from the possibility of something real. I might have lost him before we even began.

I close my eyes. The night presses on, but I’m done braving the crowds. I wish I could conjure a protective shield around my heart. The only plan now is to wait to see if he’ll come back, or if Evershift Haven’s magic has driven him away for good.

Chapter 7—Declan

I STRIDE THROUGH THEwinding streets of Evershift Haven, heart banging in my ears. My mind churns. Vandria’s stunned expression when I left her store, the lantern’s brilliant glow right after we... I shake my head, trying to banish the memory that refuses to go away.

Late-night lanterns bob overhead, flickering pastel lights across the cobblestones. The townspeople are still partying, but I ignore their curious glances. They probably see my agitation and guess it’s about the vampire who’s snared my heart. A cluster of them whisper, but I’m done being their sideshow.

I pass a row of shops with closed shutters. Candles burn low in the lampposts, shaped like hearts that drip pink wax. The whole place feels like it’s pressing in on me as I search for Grizelda. From what I’ve gleaned during my brief stay, she’s the only one who can remove this so-called “hex” or “guiding spell” or whatever meddling enchantment tricked me. My chest burns with the aftermath of too many swirling emotions.

I jerk to a halt at a wrought-iron gate that squeaks when I open it. The front yard is a tapestry of exotic plants with gleaming leaves, some releasing tiny puffs of glowing pollen. A narrow path leads to a bright purple door. Painted steppingstones hop gently beneath my feet, as though assisting me along. A swirl of wind lifts the corner of my jacket, carrying the scent of rosemary and something floral.

I bang on the door. “Grizelda?” My voice echoes across the yard. “We need to talk.”

No immediate response. My teeth grind. A sign shaped like a broomstick dangles from the handle and readsClosed For Cat Nap. I pound again. “Open up.” A cat’s hiss sounds on the other side, then a rustle of movement.

The door swings open, revealing a woman with green skin and wild purple hair streaked silver. Her robe drips with embroidered runes, and the fabric reveals her pregnancy. Those bright, curious eyes scan me. She’s not the slightest bit surprised to see me. “Declan,” she says, voice smooth. “I wondered when you’d come around.”

I push past her into a foyer that’s cluttered with floating jars and half-labeled potion bottles. A black cat perches on a wooden stool, tail flicking. My eyes skim over shelves of shimmering powders, dried herbs, and various mismatched trinkets. Everything hums with that intangible energy I’ve come to associate with Evershift magic. My fists tighten at my sides.

“I want you to remove the hex,” I say, doing my best not to shout. My breath comes hard. “Or whatever it is that forced me into—”

She slides the door shut calmly, then faces me with a tilt of her chin. “Forced you?”

I swallow. “Yes. That lantern, the illusions, and the entire town pushing me toward Vandria. You must have something that can break this.”

A sparkle of amusement crosses her gaze, though her tone stays measured. “Sit down, dear, before you topple my potions with your pacing or disturb Atlas. He’s asleep, and he’s grumpy if he doesn’t get his full nine hours.” She gestures to a small table near the hearth, where a teapot puffs pink steam. The cat leaps from the stool, strolling lazily around me before curling up near the fire.

I remain standing, arms rigid. “I don’t want tea. I want answers.”

She hums in acknowledgment, taking her time to set two teacups on the table. “You smell like heartbreak. So does the air around you. Spells can’t cause heartbreak, dear boy, unless they reveal something you refused to face.”

My nostrils flare. “Then undo it.” My voice echoes in the cottage’s wooden rafters. “Stop the heartbreak, the illusions, everything.”

She settles onto a creaky chair. “Magic doesn’t force love or desire, Declan. If you think it did, you’re mistaken.” Her eyes gleam with quiet sympathy.

My jaw tenses. “Then why did that lantern do what it did? It flared up right when—” Heat flushes my neck. “Right when we—”

She lifts a brow. “When you two consummated your connection?”

A low growl of frustration slips from my throat. “Yes.”

She pours tea into delicate cups. The liquid swirls with faint sparkles, releasing a soothing aroma of chamomile and lavender. “Lanterns sense truth. It recognized you accepted your feelings, even if only for a moment.” She hands me a cup. “Drink. It’ll help calm your nerves.”

I want to refuse, but the constriction in my chest intensifies. My fingers shake as I seize the teacup, ignoring the gentle swirl of magic around the rim. One sip floods my mouth with warmth, reducing the tightness in my breathing. “Calm” isn’t the same as “fix,” though.

She leans forward, expression earnest. “The lantern’s magic never forced anything. It’s designed to open your heart to possibilities. The rest was always your choice.”

I glare into the teacup. “It didn’t feel like a choice when I was locked in that store with a glowing orb.”

Her lips twitch with a barely hidden smile. “Haven’t you heard of coincidences?”

I slam the teacup onto the table, liquid sloshing over the rim. “You’re telling me being locked in was coincidence?”

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