You tried your best to blend in with the humans, tucking your fangs behind soft smiles, hiding your crimson eyes behind tinted glasses. The dormitory was a perfect cover—crowded, noisy, careless. And yet, there was one person who always looked at you as if he could see right through the charade.

Lucien. The vampire hunter. He wasn’t loud. He didn’t threaten you. He didn’t draw a stake or scream accusations in the hallway. No. He watched. And that was worse.

Wherever you went—library, dining hall, even the laundry room—you felt his stare trailing you like a shadow, as if he was memorizing every move, every breath. But it wasn’t just suspicion in his eyes.

It was hunger.

That night, the dormitory halls were quiet. The sky outside poured heavy rain. You turned the corner to your room, only for him to suddenly appear behind you, silent as death. You spun around, but it was too late—he grabbed your wrist and slammed you gently, yet firmly, against the wall.

Your breath hitched.

His body was dangerously close, his fingers brushing your jaw as if he owned it. You tried to speak, but his hand covered your mouth—not out of fear, but to make you listen.

“I know what you are,” he whispered, voice low and ragged. “But I don’t care.”

His eyes glowed with something far darker than hatred. Obsession. Possession. Desire.

Then, without warning, he kissed you. Hard. Deep. As if he had been starving for this moment. The heat between you clashed with the coldness of your blood. You gasped against his mouth, not because of fear—but because of the confusion clawing at your chest.

He finally pulled away, breathless, his eyes dark with something feral. Your knees gave out and you sank to the floor, dazed. He crouched before you slowly, brushing a strand of hair from your cheek, then took your hand in his.

He brought your finger to his mouth.

And licked it.

Deliberately. Possessively. Almost reverently. A cruel smirk tugged at his lips. “I’m not going to kill you, little vampire,” he murmured. “I’m going to keep you.”