Chapter Text
The road into town was narrow, cloaked by fog and the scent of wet earth. She sat in the back of the black carriage, one gloved hand resting against the curve of the window, the other lazily turning the stem of a crystal glass. The wine was dark, nearly black, though she had not tasted it in several minutes.
Her thoughts were elsewhere.
The weather had been intolerably mild for October, the blood she had collected the night before even more so, too thin, too sweet. She was already considering a trip to the capital, perhaps a fresh hunt, when the carriage slowed.
“Lady Dimitrescu,” her maid spoke from the front seat, “the villagers have gathered for the market. Shall we turn back?”
“Drive through,” Alcina said, not bothering to look up. “They’ll part.”
They always did.
The carriage rolled forward, iron wheels crunching over cobblestone slick with mist.
She could feel the eyes on her carriage, a hundred fearful glances darting away as quickly as they came. From behind the window’s lace curtain, she watched the village pass. The bitter scent of smoke and livestock soured the air.
Then, something unusual caught her attention.
A flash of pale gold in the crowd. A figure.
She lifted her gaze, and for the first time in decades, Alcina Dimitrescu forgot to breathe.
A woman stood among the market stalls, tall, impossibly so, her posture straight. The crowd seemed to flow around her rather than part for her, and though she wore minimal jewels, there was refinement in the way she moved. Her hair gleamed under the dull sky, catching what little light dared to linger.
When the blonde turned, Alcina’s breath hitched. The woman’s skin was smooth ivory. And those lips, red, rich, and soft, reminded Alcina of the color that haunted every pleasure and every hunger she had ever known.
Alcina’s pulse, or what remained of it, stirred beneath her skin.
“Stop the carriage,” she said.
The maid hesitated. “Countess?”
“Now.” She commanded.
The wheels ground to a halt. The villagers froze, murmurs rising like the rustle of dry leaves. She opened the door herself, towering as she stepped out, the hem of her gown kissing the wet stone.
The crowd parted instantly, creating a corridor of silence. Only one figure remained unmoved.
The villagers had scattered to the edges of the square, leaving only silence and the smell of rain. Alcina took in the woman before her, striking in stature, dressed sensibly yet with taste, a cream scarf at her neck and the slightest trace of perfume, something floral and warm. Beneath her skin, something darker ran through. She could smell it, rich and intoxicating blood. Her mouth watered.
The blonde turned toward her, curious rather than startled. Her eyes, clear blue, and sharp, met Alcina’s with genuine interest.
“Good evening,” the woman said, as though greeting a stranger on a sunlit path, not a creature whispered about in fear.
The air between them felt alive and charged, as though the fog itself crackled with energy.
For a long moment, she could only stare.
She found herself studying the woman’s throat, the graceful column of it, the way it caught the movement of breath. Her fangs stirred quietly, an old, involuntary twitch of instinct, but it wasn’t just hunger. It was curiosity.
What kind of creature held herself like that?
Then, with a smile that was all charm, she replied. “Good evening, indeed. You’re not from here.”
The blonde tilted her head, an almost teasing smile curving her lips, the soft red, giving her heart a phantom flutter.
“No,” she admitted. “Just visiting.”
“Visiting?” Alcina stepped closer, her heels sharp against the stones. “And yet you walk these streets as though you own them.”
That earned her a soft laugh.
“Old habits,” the woman replied, meeting her gaze without hesitation. “I run a school.”
Ah, Alcina thought. Discipline and elegance. I should have guessed.
Alcina’s lips curved. “A teacher. How… noble.”
“Principal, actually.”
The correction was light, almost playful, but it made something spark deep in Alcina’s chest. A woman who leads.
“Larissa Weems,” the blonde continued, extending her hand.
The name rolled easily off her tongue, cultured and sure. Alcina regarded the offered hand for a moment. There was no hesitation, no fear in the blonde’s eyes.
She took the offered hand, the contact was brief, gloved hand against gloved hand, yet the vampire felt something curious stir beneath the surface. A quiet hum that made her want to draw closer, to inhale the scent at her wrist.
“Countess Alcina Dimitrescu. She said smoothly, her crimson lips curling.
“Welcome to our little corner of the world, Miss Weems. I don’t often meet women who… stand eye to eye with me.”
Larissa’s smile deepened, polite yet laced with amusement. “Likewise.”
A whisper rippled through the onlookers, and the crowd shifted uneasily. The countess, the vampire, the monster of the village, murmured through the cold air.
Larissa’s brows rose ever so slightly at the reaction, though she didn’t flinch or move away.
“It seems your name carries weight around here,” she said lightly.
“It does,” Alcina murmured, casting a cool glance at the gawking villagers. “Though not always in the way one intends.”
The murmuring grew louder, curious, frightened, until Alcina’s patience wore thin. She turned her gaze toward them, sharp and cold, with a single look from her golden eyes, and the silence that followed was absolute.
A dozen heads ducked instantly. The market erupted into sudden busyness, stalls rearranged, baskets shuffled, everyone pretending not to listen.
Satisfied, Alcina turned back, she found the woman watching her with polite curiosity, not fear.
That was new. That was intoxicating.
Her expression softened into a slow, knowing smile she wore so well.
“My apologies, Miss Weems. They are simple folk. Easily startled.”
“I can see that,” Larissa smiled softly. “You must be quite the figure around here.”
“I suppose I am,” Alcina said, studying her with open intrigue. “And you, Miss Weems. You stand out in ways this town has never seen. I would be remiss if I did not extend a proper welcome.”
“Oh?” The word slipped out, low and curious.
“Dinner, perhaps. Tomorrow night.” Alcina tilted her head, letting the suggestion roll off her tongue. “The food in this town leaves much to be desired, and I would hate for our guest to leave unimpressed. My home is only a short drive beyond the forest. I insist.”
Larissa looked thoughtful, not nervous, which only deepened Alcina’s fascination.
“Tomorrow night,” she echoed. “That sounds lovely. I’ll look forward to it.”
“Splendid,” Alcina said, voice coming out in a velvety purr. “My maid will fetch you at dusk.”
Their eyes lingered a heartbeat too long before Larissa smiled again, courteous and dangerous in her calm.
“Until tomorrow, Countess.”
Alcina inclined her head, her brimmed hat tipping low, “Until tomorrow.”
She stepped back toward her carriage, and for once, she didn’t feel the weight of centuries pressing down on her shoulders.
Her mind was already spinning with possibilities, the taste of good wine, the scent of something new and alive at her table, the chance to study this creature who had managed to disarm her without lifting a finger.
Alcina realized her thoughts had gone somewhere unfamiliar. She wasn’t just imagining the woman’s throat between her teeth. She was also imagining her name on her tongue.
The fog felt lighter. The air tasted new. For the first time in far too long, she had found someone worth anticipating.
That night, Alcina found no rest. She drifted from room to room, wine glass in hand, the echo of Larissa’s voice haunting her like the intoxicating scent of lavender and smoke she had left behind.