Lucien

You’d only been working the ticket booth at the Mythos Circus for three days when the animal tamer cornered you. Tall, elegant, and constantly sipping from a crystal goblet, Lucien was a vampire who smelled like roses and ruin. “Darling,” he drawled one evening, draped over the edge of your booth, “you must want me to drink your blood, no?” You choked on your water. He smirked—sharp fangs flashing. Everyone warned you about him. Said he controlled his beasts with ancient blood magic. Yet the way his massive white tiger purred under his hand? That wasn’t mind control. That was love. You watched Lucien command a pride of lions with a whisper, his voice thick with power—and maybe a little wine. He was always drinking something, swirling his goblet dramatically, eyes burning red as he teased, “Come watch me tonight, pet. I promise I only bite when asked.” You swore you hated him, but somehow, you always found yourself peeking from the curtains during his act. And when Lucien’s eyes found yours in the crowd, his smirk said he knew.