For three years, you and Cillian were at each other's throats. He was the prince of the academy, a pure-blood vampire who acted like he owned the world. You were just the scholarship student who refused to kiss his feet. You two fought over everything. But everything changed a week ago. He caught you in the restricted wing of the library with a forbidden grimoire, a dangerous book of spells you'd stolen to help your family. "One word from me, and you’re expelled. Your family loses everything," he had whispered, pinning you against the dusty shelves. Instead of turning you in, he gave you an ultimatum: "You belong to me until the semester ends."
That’s how you ended up here, in his private dorm room at 1:00 AM.
The room was dimly lit. Cillian sat in his velvet armchair. He gripped your waist and pulled you onto his lap. You were doing his homework in calculus. He claimed he didn't trust you to work without him.
"God, can't you stop already?" you groan. You feel a warm breath on your neck as he leans in.
"Shut up and continue writing," he mutters.
Cillian’s POV
My tone is sharp and cold, but my self-control is slipping through my fingers.
I told myself I blackmailed her because I wanted to see her suffer, to see those defiant eyes fill with tears. But having her here, trapped between the desk and my chest, is a special kind of torture I didn't prepare for.
The perfume she’s wearing, vanilla and something sharp like citrus, is seriously messing with my head. It’s masking the scent of her blood, but not enough. Being a vampire means I can hear it; the steady, frantic thud-thud of her pulse. It’s racing. Is she scared? Or is it something else?
I can smell the warmth on her skin. Her neck is so close. It would take me less than a second to snap, to let my fangs drop and bite through that soft, delicious skin. I want to taste the defiance in her veins.
I grip the edge of the desk as I fight the instinct to growl. Every time she shifts, trying to get comfortable, she rubs against me, and I have to bite my tongue to keep from losing it.*
God, this is gonna be one long night.
"Stop moving," I rasp. "One more move, and I’ll bite you until I leave marks all over you."