The Mark Of Shame I stared at the bottom of my third tequila shot, the lime wedge looking as shriveled and pathetic as my love life. The club was loud—bass thumping through the floorboards and the smell of alcohol clinging to everything—but I felt myself floating. Three years. I’d given Marcus three years of my life, my notes for his exams, and my heart, only to find him pressed against Emiliana in our shared apartment. "Another one, Elena?" the bartender asked, leaning over the counter. "Make it a double," I muttered, sliding my last twenty across the table. "I’m celebrating being a complete i***t." I didn't want to think. I didn't want to feel. I just wanted to drown the image of Emiliana’s blonde hair fanned out on my pillows. My body itched, fk i just wish I got my hands on her, but I ignored the thought immediately, reaching for the fresh glass. "Elena, baby, please. Just listen to me." The voice made my stomach turn. I didn't even have to look up to know it was Marcus. I could smell his cheap cologne and the desperation rolling off him. "Go away, Marcus," I said, my voice flat. He grabbed my stool, spinning me around to face him. He looked like a mess—his shirt untucked, his eyes bloodshot. "It was a mistake. Emiliana meant nothing. She came on to me, you know how she is. You can't just throw away three years because of one bad night." "One bad night?" I let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "I saw you, Marcus. You didn't look like you were having a bad time. Get out of my face." I turned back to my drink, but he wasn't having it. He grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into my skin. "Don't walk away from me when I'm talking to you. I’ve done everything for you. You're a scholarship kid from the dirt, Elena. Who else is going to want you?" "Let go of me," I snapped, trying to pull away. The bar was crowded, but everyone was minding their own business. "You're hurting me." "I'll let go when you—" "She told you to let go." The voice didn't come from behind me; it seemed to come from the very air itself. It was deep, smooth, and carried a weight that made the hair on my arms stand up.l Marcus froze. I looked up and felt my breath hitch. A man was standing a few feet away. He was tall—tall enough that he made Marcus look like a child. He was wearing a dark charcoal suit that looked like it cost more than my entire tuition. His hair was dark, neatly pushed back, and his eyes... they were a piercing, icy blue that seemed to glow in the dim light of the bar. "Mind your business, pal," Marcus spat, though his grip on my arm loosened. The stranger didn't move. He just tilted his head. "I am making it my business. Take your hand off her, or I will take it off for you." There was so much power in his voice, he looked like he always gets his way. Marcus looked at the man's size, then back at me. He scoffed, trying to save face. "Fine. Whatever. She’s a bltch anyway. Good luck with her." He shoved my arm back at me and scrambled toward the exit. I trembled, the adrenaline finally hitting me. "Thank you," I whispered, reaching for my drink to steady my hands. "You shouldn't be drinking that," the man said. He moved closer, stepping into my personal space. The scent of him hit me— woods, rain, and something intoxicating that made my heart race. "I think I’ve earned it," I said, trying to regain my sharp tongue. "And who are you? My dad?" He didn't smile. He reached out, his long fingers brushing the hair away from my face. His t***h was electric. "I am the man who is going to take you home." "I don't even know your name," I breathed. My head was spinning from the tequila, but my body was screaming for him to stay close. "Names don't matter tonight, Elena." My heart stopped. "How do you know my name?" "I know things," he murmured. He leaned down, his l**s inches from my ear. "I’ve been watching you all night. Watching you cry over a boy who isn't worth your breath. Why waste your tears when you could be screaming my name instead?" What the fk? Many girls would have moved away the instant a stranger says that to them but I stayed, feeling аr0used immediately by his words. It must be the alcohol. I should have run. I was a smart girl, a law student, a person with logic. But when he slid his hand down to the small of my back, pulling me closer to him, all my reasoning died. He felt like safety and danger all wrapped into one. "My car is outside," he said, his voice a low vibration against my skin. "Okay," I whispered. We got the parking lot faster than I expected. He led me to a dark, sleek car, it looked fking expensive. As soon as the door clicked shut behind us, he didn't wait. He lunged for me, his mouth crashing onto mine. He placed his hand on my n**k, giving me light squeeze while dominating the k**s, I g*****d into his mouth, my hands tangling in his dark hair, pulling him closer. I wanted to forget Marcus. I wanted to forget everything. "So small," he growled against my throat, his hands roaming over my curves with a possessiveness that should have scared me. "So perfect." He pushed my dress down, his eyes dark with a hunger that looked almost animalistic. I arched my back as his tongue found the sensitive skin of my n**k. “fk, I can't wait till we get to the hotel, I need a taste of you,” his voice came out deep and soft. He l****d my n**k immediately, I felt a sharp, sudden heat there—a pressure that built and built until I thought I would burst. "Please," I begged, not even knowing what I was asking for. "Look at me, Elena," he commanded. I opened my eyes, staring into that icy blue. He looked possessed. He grabbed me and placed me on top of him, his hands gripped my shoulders, his fingers bruising, and then he leaned in. I expected a k**s. Instead, I felt teeth. A sharp, stinging pain flared in my n**k as he bit down. I gasped, my vision shaking, but the pain was instantly replaced by a wave of pleasure that made my entire body go numb. It felt like wonderful, my eyes rolled back as I m****d loudly. "You're mine," he whispered. "Don't forget it." Everything went black. The Professor I woke up the next morning to the sound of my alarm blaring. My head throbbed, and my throat felt dry and stuffy. "Ugh, never again," I g*****d, rolling over to hit snooze. Memories of the night before came back in flashes. Marcus. The tall stranger. The car. The hotel. Everything was not clear enough, the only thing that I truly remembered was his face. I sat up fast, checking my clothes. I was in my pajamas. Had I walked home? I couldn't remember. I stumbled to the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face. As I patted my skin dry, I caught my reflection in the mirror. There, at the base of my n**k, was a mark. It wasn't a purple bruise like a normal h****y. It was a deep, angry red circle with two distinct puncture marks in the center. "аs hole bit me, but who the fk bites someone like this, it's called a h****y not a wound" I muttered, touching it. “Ouch,” It felt hot and painful as fk. I don't have time for this, I need to coverup now because I'm late with a splitting headache. I covered it with concealer and a turtleneck, grabbed my bag, and ran out the door. I was already late for my first Advanced Law seminar. I slipped into the lecture hall, keeping my head down as I found a seat in the back row. The room was quiet. "Glad you could join us, Miss Vance," a voice boomed from the front. I froze. That voice. All eyes turned to me, I hate when I'm the center of attention. I looked up. Standing at the podium, wearing a crisp white shirt and glasses that made him look terrifyingly intelligent, was the man from the bar. "I am Professor Alaric Blackwood," he said, his eyes locking onto mine with zero recognition, only cold authority. "And in this classroom, there are no excuses for being late. See me after class." My heart hammered against my ribs. It was him. He still looked as handsome as that night, but he looked at me like I was nothing but a smudge on his shoe. I am doomed I gave a slow nod, looking down at my book, trying to disappear at that moment. The ninety-minute lecture felt like it was deliberately dragged. I sat in the back row, my hands shaking so hard I couldn’t even take notes. Every time Professor Blackwood spoke, that deep, velvet voice sent a spark straight to my body. He spoke with so much authority, all the ladies in the classroom kept looking at him with lovey-dovey eyes, well I don't blame them. He paced the front of the room as he spoke, but he never looked at me. Not once. It was like the night in the car—the heat, the tension was nothing, I guess it's better this way, no one needs to know of my foolish mistake. When the bell finally rang, I scrambled to pack my bag. I just needed to get out of the room. I needed to breathe. "Miss Vance. A word." The coldness in his tone stopped me mid-step. The rest of the students filed out, whispering and casting curious glances my way. I waited until the door clicked shut before I turned to face him. He was sitting at his desk, looking through a folder. He didn't look up. "Your performance today was pathetic, to say the least," he said, his voice clipped. "You didn't contribute to the discussion. You looked... distracted." "Distracted?" I marched toward his desk, my temper finally flaring. "You're kidding me, right? You were there. Last night. You chased Marcus away. You took me to your car. You..." I stopped, my face heating up. "You know exactly why I'm distracted." Alaric finally looked up. Behind his glasses, he gave me a cold stare. "I have no idea what you’re talking about. I spent my evening reviewing case files at the estate. If you’re having personal issues with any boy, keep them out of my lecture hall." I stared at him, my mouth hanging open. "You’re lying. You’re actually lying to my face. I have the bloody h****y on my n**k to prove it!" I moved my clothe apart to give him a clear view He stood up slowly. He was so much taller than I remembered. He walked around the desk, his presence filling the room until I felt tiny. He stopped just inches away, his cologne sticking out. "I see a bruise, Elena," he murmured, his voice dropping low. "Perhaps you should be more careful with who you spend your nights with. It looks painful." "You did this," I whispered, my heart beating against my ribs. "Why are you doing this? Why are you making everything difficult for me like I lost my mind, what do you have to gain?" "I am doing my job," he said, his gaze dropping to my l**s for a split second before snapping back to my eyes. " I don't know what you have stored up in your head, tell me Elena, what do you desire?” My eyes widened at his question, I had no response immediately, my brain shut down because I don't understand what game he was playing now. He reached out, his hand h******g near my n**k. I froze, my eyes fluttering shut. I expected him to pull away, to keep up the act. Instead, his thumb brushed against the turtleneck I’d used to hide the h****y. He pulled the fabric down just an inch, his skin making contact with the bruised, sensitive skin. The contact sent a shiver down my spine, a m**n slipped out of my mouth immediately, why is it so sensitive to his t***h? He leaned in closer, his breath hot against the shell of my ear. "Does it still hurt, Elena?" The question caught me off guard, the way he said it made me feel some kind of way, I looked at him staring at his eyes as they turned dark, he looked exactly like last night. Before I could even find my voice to answer, he pulled his hand away and straightened his suit jacket. "We're done for tonight," he said, his voice suddenly ice-cold again as he turned toward the window. "Get out." I didn't wait. I grabbed my bag and bolted, my skin still screaming from where he’d touched me A Dinner Date I spent the day walking around campus like a zombie. My n**k wouldn't stop itching. Underneath the thick layer of concealer, the mark felt like a living thing, buzzing against my pulse. Does it still hurt, Elena? The way he’d said my name... it was driving me insane. I was a law student. I was supposed to be logical. He can say whatever the hll he wants to but I know it was him that night. I was so deep in my own head that I didn't hear the hum of the engine. I stepped off the curb near the university's main gate, my eyes glued to my textbook, when a screech of tires sliced through the air. I looked up, paralyzed, as a sleek, silver sports car—the kind that cost more than my life—swerved, missing my knees by a mere inch. I fell back onto the pavement, my books scattering everywhere. "Oh my god! I am so sorry!" The car door swung open, and a man stepped out. For a second, my heart stopped. The height, the build, the sharp jawline—it was him. But then he stepped into the sunlight, and the illusion shattered. This man didn’t have Alaric’s dark, brooding hair; his was a striking, silver, styled to perfection. He wasn't wearing a suit, but a designer sweater that looked soft enough to melt into. And his eyes—while they were that same haunting blue—were dancing with warmth and concern, not cold like Alaric's own. "Are you hurt? Please tell me you're okay," he said, reaching down to help me up. "I—I'm fine," I stammered, taking his hand. His grip was firm, but gentle. "I’m Silas," he said, giving me a smile that could probably end wars. "And I’m a complete i***t for not watching the crosswalk. I was on a conference call and... well, that’s no excuse for almost flattening the most beautiful woman on campus." I felt my face flush. He was charming. Effortlessly charming. Unlike Alaric, who made me feel like a bug under a microscope, Silas made me feel like the only person in the world. I don't know why I'm already clinging onto the idea of Silas but it's not everyday a handsome rich man flirts with you. "I'm Elena," I managed to say, brushing the dirt off my jeans. "Elena," he repeated, his voice like honey. He looked at my books on the ground and then back at me. "Look, Elena, I feel terrible. Please, let me make it up to you. Let me take you to dinner tonight. Somewhere quiet, where I can properly apologize for my terrible driving." I should have said no. I had a mountain of homework, and I was already emotionally exhausted. But I looked at his kind face and thought about Alaric’s coldness. I needed a distraction. I needed to prove to myself that I wasn't into my professor. "Okay," I said softly. "Dinner sounds nice.” I hope I don't regret this decision with a total stranger. Silas led me to his car, I sat inside, feeling the smoothness of the chair, Silas gave me a smirk before speeding off. He didn't turn on the radio; he just drove, occasionally glancing at me with a smirk that made me want to hide and lean closer all at the same time. When we pulled up to the curb, a valet in a uniform scurried over. Silas didn't wait for him to open my door. He was already there, offering his hand to help me out of the low-slung seat. "Relax, Elena," he whispered, his breath catching the stray hairs near my ear. "You’re with me. No one here is looking at anything but how lucky I am." The restaurant, The Golden Lily, was perched on the fiftieth floor. As we walked in, the head waiter bowed—actually bowed—to Silas. "Sir. Your usual table?" "The corner, Pierre. We’d like some privacy." Silas led me to a table overlooking the entire city. Before I could even reach for the back of the chair, he was behind me. I felt the warmth of his body as he leaned in, his hands firmly holding the gold chair and sliding it forward as I sat. His fingers lingered on the wood near my shoulders for a second too long before he moved to his own seat. "I... I feel like I should have changed," I said, smoothing my skirt. I was wearing my campus clothes—jeans and a decent blouse—but surrounded by women in fancy gowns and diamonds, I felt like a stray cat. "You're the most interesting thing in this room," Silas said, dismissing my worry with a wave of his hand. He didn't even look at the menu. He just looked at me. "I’ve already taken the liberty of ordering the tasting menu for us. And the wine—a 1998 vintage. It’s light, but it has a bit of a bite. You look like a girl who appreciates a bit of a bite." My heart did a nervous little skip. A bite. Was he joking? Or was it just a coincidence? "So, Silas," I said, trying to regain some control over the conversation. "What exactly do you do? Besides almost running over scholarship students?" He grinned, showing off perfectly white teeth. "I run an Industries. We do a bit of everything—tech, real estate, private security. I spend most of my days in boardrooms listening to men in suits bore me to death. Which is why meeting someone like you is such a breath of fresh air." "Someone like me? You mean a girl who can't cross the street properly?" "I mean someone real," he said, his gaze turning intense. "Someone whose eyes tell a story. You’re sad, Elena. And you’re angry. Why?" I froze. He was too observant. "My boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—cheated on me. With my best friend. I found them two days ago." Silas’s expression didn't change, but the air around the table felt heavier. "A man who lets a woman like you go is a fool. And a man who hurts you... well, he doesn't deserve to keep his tongue." The waiter arrived then, placing small plates of seared scallops and truffle cream in front of us. Silas ate, gesturing to me to go ahead. I followed his move, his eyes watching me over the rim of his wine glass. "Tell me about your studies," he prompted. "Law is a heavy burden for such a young woman." "I like the order of it," I said, finally relaxing a little as the wine started to hum in my blood. "There are rules. If you break them, there are consequences. It makes sense." "Rules are meant to be broken by the people who have the power to rewrite them," Silas countered. He reached across the table, his fingers tracing the rim of my glass. "Don't tell me you've never wanted to do something just because it felt good, even if the rules said no?" I thought of the man in the bar. I thought of the way I’d let a stranger bite me. I thought of the way my body ached when Professor Blackwood looked at me. "I try to be a good person," I whispered. "Being good is boring, Elena," Silas murmured. He stood up, but instead of leaving, he walked around to my side of the table. "Walk with me to the balcony? The air is clearer out there." I followed him out into the night air. The lights twinkled below us like fallen stars. Silas stood close behind me. "You're shivering," he said. He didn't offer his jacket. Instead, he reached out, his hand sliding over mine where it gripped the railing. The moment our skin touched, the mark on my n**k didn't just itch—it erupted. A blinding heat shot from the puncture marks, down my spine, and straight to my core. It was the exact same feeling I’d had with Alaric. I gasped, my legs feeling like jelly. "Elena? Is something wrong?" Silas asked. His thumb began to s****e the back of my hand, He didn't let go. His grip tightened, and for a split second, that warm, charming billionaire mask slipped. His eyes went dark, the blue turning into a deep, stormy darkness. He looked hungry. Not for food, but for me. "I... I just got a chill," I lied, my voice trembling so hard I could barely get the words out. I felt physically sick with confusion. How was this possible? I was pining for a professor who treated me like garbage, still dreaming about a stranger who had bitten me in a parking lot, and now I was standing on a balcony wanting a billionaire I’d known for three hours to push me against the glass and never let me go. "You're a very good liar, Elena," Silas whispered, his l**s brushing against my temple. "But your pulse is racing. I can feel it against my skin." I pulled my hand away, my breath coming in short, panicked bursts. "I have to go. Please. I just... I need to go home." "What is wrong with me?" I whispered as I bolted out the door The mark on my n**k felt like a brand. A mark of shame. I wasn't just a scholarship student anymore. I was a liar. I was a traitor to my own heart. Why do I feel this way because of Professor Alaric, someone who doesn't care The Biker It's been two days since the encounter with Silas and Alaric. I've tried hard to avoid Alaric but I feel like it's becoming impossible. I have a class with him tomorrow and I'm dreading it. The library parking lot was quiet and dark. It was nearly midnight, and my brain was fried from trying to memorize property laws, but mostly from trying to scrub the memory of Silas’s t***h and Alaric’s voice out of my head. I just wanted to get to my car. I wanted to go to sleep and wake up as a normal girl again—the girl who didn't feel like her skin was on fire. "Elena! Wait up!" I g*****d, my shoulders dropping. Marcus was standing by my old car, looking smug. He’d clearly been waiting for me. "I have nothing to say to you, Marcus. Move." "You think you’re so high and mighty now?" he spat, stepping into my path. He looked different, his eyes darting around. "I saw you getting into that silver car today. Who was that? Some rich s*********y? Is that how you’re paying for this semester?" "It’s none of your business. Get out of my way." He grabbed my wrist, and this time, he didn't let go. His fingers squeezed until I winced. "I made you, Elena. Without me, you’re just a girl from the trailer park with a pretty face. If you don't come back to my place tonight and talk this out, I’ll call the dean. I’ll tell them you’re 'servicing' donors for tuition. I’ll ruin that scholarship so fast your head will spin." "You wouldn't," I whispered, horror dawning on me. He was a narcissist, but this was a new low. "Try me. I have nothing to lose. Now, get in the car—" A loud bone-shaking roar cut him off. The sound was deafening, it vibrated through my chest, I looked back and it was a massive black motorcycle, it moved into the parking lot, tires screaming as it drifted in a tight circle around us, kicking up smoke and dust. The rider was a giant. He wore a worn leather vest over a black hoodie, the sleeves pushed up to reveal arms covered in thick, dark tattoos. He killed the engine, and the silence that followed was even more terrifying. He hopped off the bike, moving closer to us, I felt terrified at his frame. When he pulled off his helmet, I nearly fell over. It was the face again. Who the fk did I offend, huh? But this version was different, more rugged. His hair was a wild, dark mess, and a rough scar ran through his eyebrow and down his cheek. He looked like he’d spent his life fighting, and winning. "Let go of her," the biker said. His voice was deeper and more dangerous than Alaric’s or Silas’s. I can't help but compare because he looks like them but I'm sure they have no business to associate with his kind, not trying to sound bad but look at him. "Who the hll are you?" Marcus yelled, trying to sound tough despite his voice cracking. The biker didn't answer with words. He moved faster than I could blink. One second he was ten feet away, and the next, he had Marcus by the throat, slamming him against the side of my car. The door pressed from the force. "I’m the guy who’s going to feed you if you t***h her again," the biker growled. He lifted Marcus off the ground by his n**k. Marcus’s face went purple, his legs kicking uselessly. "Please! Stop!" I cried out, grabbing the biker’s leather-clad arm. The moment I touched him, the world exploded. It was like sticking my hand into an open socket. The bite mark on my n**k didn't just heat up—it burned my whole body. My knees buckled, and for a second, I thought I was going to faint. The biker dropped Marcus like a sack of potatoes. Marcus scrambled away, gasping for air, and ran away without looking back. The biker turned to me. He didn't offer a hand. He stepped into my space, his heavy boots making noise on the pavement, and pinned me against the seat of his motorcycle. He smelled of gasoline, expensive tobacco, and a musky, animal scent that made my inner t****s ache. "You're a messy little thing, aren't you?" he muttered, his eyes—those same piercing, predatory blue eyes—scanning my face. He reached out, his calloused thumb dragging over my bottom l*p. "Who... who are you?" I whispered, my breath coming in short gasps. My body was betraying me again. I wanted to wrap my legs around his w***t and k**s him. What's wrong with me, what are these men doing to me? "Name's Killian," he said, his hand sliding up to my n**k, his palm covering the mark Alaric had left. "And you’re coming with me." "No!" I shouted, the word finally tearing out of my throat. I shoved his chest with everything I had. "No! I don't know you! Leave me alone, Let me go for fk sake!" I was shouting, hoping that someone would hear me. "I am not that kind of girl!" I screamed at his face, my voice echoing in the empty lot. "I’m not some... some toy you can just pick up! Stay away from me! All of you, stay away!" I screamed like a mad woman, I was basically losing my mind here and all I could do was run. I didn't wait for him to respond. I scrambled into my car, fumbling with the keys, my hands shaking so hard I dropped them twice. Killian didn't chase me. He just stood there, his arms crossed over his massive chest, watching me with a dark, knowing smirk. I drove out of the lot, driving like a maniac until I reached my dorm. I ran inside, locked the door, pushed my dresser in front of it, and collapsed onto my bed. I was losing my mind. I laid there in the dark, staring at the ceiling. The Professor. The Billionaire. The Biker. They weren't just similar. They had the exact same eyes. The same way of looking at me like I was a piece of meat they were waiting to devour. What is happening to me? Am I in some game? Where did I go wrong? My phone buzzed on the nightstand. Then again. And again. I tried ignoring it, I had serious things to settle but the constant noise wasn't doing me any good. A notification lit up the screen. A different unknown number. 12:00 AM:“You’re mine to protect, little bird. Try to run again and see what happens. — K” There is only one person I know that has a name beginning with K and it is that motherfvcker. How did he get my number? I don't remember giving out any information about me. I dropped the phone on the mattress as if it had burned me. My n**k began to glow, a faint, red light shining through the fabric of my shirt. The pain that followed was something else, I tried clawing at the wound but it only made things worse, what have I gotten myself involved in? And then, I heard it. Inside my head, three distinct, low growls vibrated against my skull, harmonizing into a single, terrifying command that made me freeze on spot “Ours.” Then everything went dark. The Morning After I woke up before my alarm even had a chance to beep. The room was freezing, but my skin felt like it was on fire. I stayed under the covers for a long time, staring at the chipped white paint on my ceiling. My life felt like a joke. A week ago, my biggest worry was whether Marcus and I would ever be able to afford a real apartment after graduation. Now, Marcus was gone, and I was being hunted by three different men who looked like they stepped out of a nightmare and a magazine at the same time. I was a scholarship student with no money, a broken heart, and a weird glowing mark on my n**k. "Pathetic," I whispered to the empty room. I scoffed at myself, throwing the blankets back. I couldn't afford to be a victim. If I missed class or let my grades slip, I’d be back in the town I worked so hard to leave, working a dead-end job for the rest of my life. I stood in front of the bathroom mirror and peeled back the bandage I’d put over my n**k. The skin was still tender, and the two puncture marks were a deep, angry red. They didn't look like a h****y anymore. They looked fking weird. "Just a weird infection," I said to my reflection. "Or a reaction to the metal in the jewelry I don't even wear." I applied a thick layer of heavy concealer, then topped it with a high-n**k sweater. It was itchy and uncomfortable, but it was better than people seeing it and asking questions. I grabbed my bag, shoved my phone deep into my pocket so I wouldn't have to look at those three terrifying texts, and headed for the law building. The campus was busy. Students were drinking coffee and laughing, complaining about midterms as if the world was normal. I kept my head down, my heart thumping against my ribs. Every time a motorcycle hummed in the distance, I flinched. I reached the lecture hall ten minutes early. I took my usual seat in the back, trying to blend into the shadows. I just wanted to get through this hour without Alaric looking at me. "You look like you haven't slept in a week, Elena." I jumped, nearly knocking my coffee over. It was Jax, a guy from my study group. He sat down next to me, looking concerned. "Just a long night of studying," I said, forced a smile. "Right. Law will do that to you," Jax said. "Hey, did you hear about the fight in the library parking lot last night? Someone said a biker nearly killed a guy. Police were there this morning asking questions." My blood ran cold. "I didn't hear anything." "Lucky you. This town is getting weird," Jax muttered, opening his laptop. The door at the front of the room swung open. The chatter died down instantly. Alaric walked in, his black coat billowing slightly behind him. He looked perfect—not a hair out of place, his glasses catching the light. He looked like a god of law and order. He set his briefcase on the podium and scanned the room. His eyes passed over me without stopping, but I felt a pull in my chest that made it hard to breathe. "Today, we are discussing the ethics of coercion," Alaric said, his voice echoing. "Specifically, when a contract is signed under duress. Can a person truly be held to a promise they made when they were afraid?" He started pacing. He was a great teacher, but I couldn't focus on the words. All I could think about was the text he sent. See you in class, Elena. Halfway through the lecture, he stopped right in front of my row. He wasn't looking at me, but he was close enough that I could smell him. "Miss Vance," he said. I stiffened. "Yes, Professor?" "If a man offers you safety in exchange for your freedom, is that a fair trade?" The room went silent. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me. I looked up at him, and for a second, the mask of the professor slipped. His blue eyes darkened, becoming that deep, predatory color I saw in the bar. "No," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "Freedom isn't something you trade. If it’s forced, it isn't a trade at all. It’s a crime." Alaric tilted his head, a small, cruel smile touching his l**s. "A very textbook answer. But in the real world, Elena, some people don't give you a choice. Some people simply take what they want because they have the power to keep it." He turned on his heel and walked back to the podium. "Class dismissed. Miss Vance, stay behind. We need to discuss your last essay." Jax gave me a sympathetic look as he packed up. "Good luck. He looks like he’s in a mood today." "Thanks," I whispered. I waited until the last student left. I didn't move from my seat. Alaric stayed at the podium, clicking his pen. The sound felt like a ticking bomb. "Come here," he commanded. I walked down the stairs, stopping at the front row. "I didn't turn in an essay yesterday, Professor. We both know that." Alaric looked up. He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I didn't ask you here to talk about school, Elena." "Then why? To tell me you didn't send that text? To tell me you weren't the man who fked me?" He stood up and walked toward me. I backed away until I hit the edge of a desk. He didn't stop until he was inches away. He reached out, his hand wrapping around the back of my n**k. His thumb pressed right against the spot where the mark was hidden under my sweater. I gasped, my eyes fluttering shut. The heat was back, moving through my body like a dr*g. "You're making this very difficult," he whispered. "Why are you doing this?" I asked, my voice breaking. "You act like you don't know me in front of the class, and then you t***h me like... like you own me." "I don't know what you're talking about, Miss Vance," he said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous rumble. "I'm simply making sure you're paying attention. You seem to have a habit of wandering off into dangerous places." "Like the Neon Moon?" I challenged. He leaned in closer, his l**s brushing against my ear. "I have never been to such a place. But if I had, I certainly wouldn't have let you leave so easily." He let go of me suddenly and stepped back, putting his glasses back on. The cold professor was back. "Go to your next class, Elena. Try to stay focused. You wouldn't want to lose that scholarship over a few... distractions." I stared at him, my mouth dry. I turned and ran out of the room. I didn't go to my next class. I ran straight for the side exit of the building. My mind was a mess. Alaric was lying, I knew he was, but why? And how could I feel this way about him when Silas was so kind, and that biker... I reached the courtyard and stopped, leaning against a tree to catch my breath. My phone vibrated. I pulled it out, my hands shaking. 12:15 PM: “Don't even think about the back exit, little bird. I’m already watching you. — K” I looked around wildly. Across the courtyard, sitting on a black motorcycle near the library, was Killian. He was leaning against his handlebars, staring straight at me. He raised a hand in a slow, mocking wave. I was trapped. I felt like a deer caught in the sights of three different hunters.
