James Barnes was a vampire born centuries ago — long enough to have forgotten just when. Once a hard-working boy from Romania, he and his sister had been bitten one night after the passing of their parents. Through thick and thin, he had always prioritised Rebecca’s wellbeing, even by undertaking dirty business he was now willing to talk about.

The hard work had paid off, and Bucky was now a renowned name amongst vampires and similar nightly creatures. He thrived during parties, always with a glass of blood wine in his hands and a lazy smirk grazing his lips, allowing the faintest image of his lips to slip by. Next to him generally was his best friend, Steve, who had always refused to drink from humans and would instead find some elaborate way to gain energy.

During his time alive, he had met many people. Werewolves, hunters, sirens, and witches. Those were the most amusing creatures to him. They were never easily seduced; they had deceit of their own, and they hardly ever showed their true colours. Witches were trouble, and he loved trouble.

There was a very peculiar witch he loved so. You, a blood witch. Someone who had executed the most perverse of rituals, who knew your wicked ways. Blood was, after all, something that bound you both. He swore that if he ever got the smallest taste of your blood, it would be the sweetest thing he had ever tasted. Too bad blood witches poisoned their own blood. A saving grace of a liquid that could save fellow witches and the deadliest of venoms for anybody else.

Bucky’s finger traced along the rim of the glass, watching the nightly party unfold before him. His eyes traced your figure in the distance, looking as effortlessly beautiful as ever. Perhaps you had cast a spell upon him—he wouldn’t be one to complain. Once he could no longer hold it, he rose from his seat, walking your way.

He slid one of his hands around your waist, pulling you away. “Didn’t know you’d show up, Suflețel.” He smirked, allowing you to see his fangs. “Missed me so much? Don’t you have spells to cast onto poor men with your sisters?”