Sunlight splintered through the heavy curtains, casting fragmented golden rays across the vast room. The warmth of morning filtered through the space, illuminating the grand furnishings—dark wooden shelves lined with books, velvet drapes, and a chandelier that gleamed in the gentle light.
Cora stirred, her masked face bathed in the sun's glow. Her body ached, a dull reminder of the previous night's events. Blinking rapidly, she took in her surroundings. The bed she lay on was far too extravagant for a mere student, the sheets silk beneath her fingertips. The rich scent of expensive cologne and something uniquely masculine lingered in the air. Panic coiled in her chest. This wasn't her dorm.
Her breath came faster. Where was she?
Before she could fully process it, the sound of the doorknob turning snapped her attention toward the entrance.
The door swung open, and Damien stepped inside, his presence consuming the space effortlessly. He was shirtless, his well-defined muscles glistening with a sheen of sweat, his dark hair tousled from what seemed like an intense morning workout. The air around him crackled with an unspoken dominance that made her pulse skitter.
"You're awake." His voice was a smooth drawl, laced with something unreadable. "I brought you here because I didn't trust the hospital to keep you safe."
He walked toward the bed with measured strides, his piercing gaze never leaving her.
Cora swallowed hard, her throat dry. She refused to let her eyes wander, but the sight of him—so effortlessly alluring, so raw and untamed—made her pulse quicken. Her face burned, and she averted her gaze, focusing on anything but the firm planes of his chest.
"Amelia—" she began, her voice hoarse.
"She's fine," Damien interrupted before she could ask. "Leonard is with her."
Cora exhaled in relief. At least her best friend was safe.
She shifted, attempting to sit up, only to feel a sharp sting in her arm. Looking down, she realized her hand was wrapped in a bandage, and a thin strip extended up to her neck where the wound from last night's ordeal still throbbed.
"You fell asleep before the pain got worse," Damien explained casually, his gaze flickering over her injuries. "So I made sure the nurses kept you under until morning."
Cora stiffened. So he had drugged her? The thought should have made her furious, but deep down, she knew he had done it for her own good.
Oscar Island University was far from any major city, a self-contained world with its own hospital, stores, and eerie secrets lurking beneath its prestigious surface.
Damien folded his arms, watching her carefully. "How are you feeling?"
Cora's lips parted, and her eyes, hesitant, finally met his. He was staring at her with a quiet intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. Her gaze flickered downward, landing on his bare chest, and her breath hitched before she quickly looked away.
"I-I'm fine," she mumbled, biting her lip in embarrassment.
Damien smirked. "I know I'm irresistible, little bird."
Cora rolled her eyes, but the warmth in her cheeks betrayed her.
"It's Saturday. No lectures today." His tone shifted, becoming serious. "Now might seem rushed, especially since you're still injured, but we need to find out exactly what you are."
His fingers brushed over her hair, a light caress that sent tingles down her spine.
Cora nodded, though uncertainty weighed heavy in her chest. Did she truly want to know?
Damien continued, his voice unwavering. "From what you've experienced, it seems like you can see the past of this place. I don't know what that makes you or how you're connected to the school, but we'll start from there."
She hesitated before voicing the question that had been gnawing at her. "You're a mystery, Damien. And while I'm grateful for everything… it feels strange that a night creature would care so much about me." Her heart pounded. "Who exactly are you, and what do you want from me?"
Her past had taught her that kindness was never given freely. No one had ever truly cared for her—except Amelia and her mother. Even in a normal school, she had been shunned, avoided like a curse.
And now here was Damien Ravenscroft, a vampire—someone who should be a predator—protecting her.
Why?
Meanwhile, in the Dean's Office…
Graves entered the dimly lit office, his expression carefully composed as he stood before the Dean.
"Have you found the perfect candidate for the crime?" the Dean inquired, her voice smooth yet ice-cold.
Graves nodded. "Michael Sandalwood. An orphan, admitted on scholarship last year. He's also a half-vampire."
The Dean arched a brow. "A half-vampire? Why not pin it on a human?"
"It wouldn't look good if the authorities or Jaffet's parents started digging too deep," Graves explained. "It would be easier to bury the case if the murderer wasn't human. His parents will be more appeased knowing it wasn't a mortal who killed their son."
The Dean considered this, nodding. "And how do you plan on making him the murderer?"
"He and Jaffet had a history—a violent one. They were once involved in a fierce brawl, and Jaffet's parents forced him to stay away from their son. We can frame it as revenge."
Her eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "Clever. But how do we place him at the scene of the crime?"
"He wasn't in his dorm that night. He was with his human girlfriend." Graves smirked. "I can hypnotize them both into believing they never met that night."
A slow smile spread across the Dean's lips. "Excellent work, Graves."
She reached into her drawer and pulled out two canned drinks, passing one to him. They clinked their cans together in a silent toast.
"To more years ahead," she murmured before taking a deep sip.
As the thick, metallic taste of blood coated their tongues, their irises darkened to a deep crimson.
Back in Damien's Room…
Damien sat beside Cora, his fingers absentmindedly twisting strands of her hair.
"I'm a night creature, little bird," he murmured. "A pureblooded one. And also… a prince."
Cora's eyes widened. "A prince? Wait… Damien Ravenscroft." The realization hit her like a freight train. "You're the second prince? The first prince is a CEO, but the second prince's name was never revealed. That means—"
Damien silenced her with a smirk, his hand weaving through her hair.
Cora swallowed, her breath hitching. "What's with you and my hair?"
"I'm obsessed," he murmured, his voice husky. "It gives me all kinds of ideas… ones you wouldn't want to hear." His fingers trailed to the ends of her hair. "Like how my hands would tangle in it while you're beneath me—"
Cora's face burned. "You're trying to distract me."
"I am."
Shaking off his teasing, she focused. "You said you're pureblooded. Does that mean there's a hierarchy?"
"There is." Damien's voice became softer, more dangerous. "Turned vampires are the lowest. Half-vampires come next. Then normal vampires. And at the top—purebloods. We carry the blood of the first vampires, making us stronger, more powerful. But we're rare."
Cora took a deep breath, absorbing the weight of his words. "So… you drink blood too?"
"Blood is oxygen, little bird. Every vampire needs it. But purebloods—" He flashed his fangs, his smirk dark. "We drink in large quantities… and can go days without it."
Cora's lips parted as she stared at him. He was intoxicating. Dangerous.
And she wasn't afraid.
Damien studied her. "You don't look scared."
"I'm not," she admitted. "But that's because it's you."
A flicker of emotion crossed his face before he stood, stretching out his hand.
"Let's get you some breakfast."
Cora hesitated before taking his hand.
"You never answered me," she whispered. "Why are you helping me?"
Damien's fingers curled around hers.
"Because I'm smitten," he murmured.
But the truth was, he couldn't tell her.
Not yet.
Because she was his mate. And he had waited centuries for her return.