Page 23 of A Touch of Darkness

She was once mine. Or—she was almost mine.

The curse she placed on me still burns, the agony of it endless. The love I failed to act upon, the betrayal that sealed both of our fates. I chose power over her, and now I pay the price for that mistake—every second of every day. And now, I must watch her again, knowing that I am powerless to protect her from the very fate I helped create.

I have to do something.

Her absence fills the space between us. I should have stopped her. I should have warned her.

But I didn’t.

I won’t make the same mistake again.

I turn from the desk, my mind spinning. She doesn’t know the whole truth. She doesn’t know how deep the betrayal runs or how desperately I wish I could undo the past. But I cannot afford to think about that now.

The Solstice Society will continue to come for her. I know it. I feel it in my bones. But they don’t understand her. They don’t understand what she is capable of—what we could be together.

I will not let them take her from me. I will not let her fall to their hands.

I cannot undo the mistakes of the past. But I will protect her this time, even if it costs me everything.

The walls of Blackthorne feel animated tonight, as if they’re whispering secrets in the darkness. Every creak of the worn floorboards and rustle of the wind through the tall windows makes my heart jump. I can’t tell if the building is truly this eerie, or if the stories Rebecca and Nicole told me are making my imagination run wild. But whatever it is, it feels like this place is closing in on me, inch by inch, until I can barely breathe.

I lie on my narrow dorm bed, the covers pulled up to my chin, staring at faint cracks in the ceiling. If I stare long enough, they morph into odd faces and obscure figures. Usually, the stillness of the late hour calms me—it’s a time to let my busy mind unravel. But now, my nerves are on edge. The hush of the night isn’t soothing; it’s suffocating. Like the halls themselves are haunted by the enormity of the things I’ve learned. Things that shouldn’t be real.

I glance over at Lara’s empty bed. The sheets are rumpled from Nicole and Rebecca sitting on them while we went overhow to move forward, the Isabel issue, and how to find Lara. My stomach churns from her absence. She should be here.

I can’t stop replaying my conversation with Professor Draedon—seeing the way candlelight glinted across the sharp angles of his face, hearing the low, resonant timbre of his voice as he said those impossible things. My heart still thuds a little too fast when I remember how he revealed himself to be a vampire, how he insisted I’m not “merely human,” how he implied I’m at the center of some ancient power struggle that could tear the supernatural world apart. It’s surreal to think about. Part of me still wants to believe I dreamed the whole thing.

Like I’ve dreamed everything since stepping foot onto this campus.

Yet the moment he told me what I am—what I might become—it felt… real. A sick, twisting kind of real that lodged in my chest, making it hard to inhale a deep breath. The fear was there, sure, copious and strangling. But something else was there, too—something that made my pulse pound for reasons that had nothing to do with terror.

I close my eyes,heat burning along my cheeks. The professor’s presence didn’t just scare me; it ignited something in me. Like my whole body was on fire under his gaze. The way he looked at me while teaching his class—like I was the only person in the room—somehow calmed my racing heart and set it pounding all at once. I’ve never experienced anything like it, and it scares me even more than the talk of curses and societies. Because how can I be feeling something so electric for a man who just told me he’s a vampire?

A species I didn’t even believe in until yesterday. A species I still cannot wrap my mind around.

I push the professor out of my mind and my thoughts drift to Lara. In any other scenario, I’d run straight to my twin sister—she’s always been the one to help me keep perspective. We share everything. When she’s excited, I catch her enthusiasm; when I’m down, she lifts me up. But this? This is too big, too strange to just blurt out. Hey, guess what? A professor at Blackthorne told me I’m not fully human and that an ancient society wants to use me as a weapon. Even as I imagine the words, they sound ludicrous. She’d think I’m losing my mind.

Or maybe she’d believe me. Maybe she’d worry herself sick because that’s who Lara is—nurturing, protective, instinctive. She’s our mother in younger form.

I rub my temples, trying to quell the ache. My body feels like it’s still vibrating with residual tension, but exhaustion edges in. Slowly, I move onto my side, pulling the blanket closer. The details of what Professor Draedon said swirl around me like a restless tide:

I’m notjusthuman.

I’m descended from a line that once shaped the fate of vampires.

The Solstice Society wantsme.

My…power.

And over everything else, the way he looked at me—a mixture of regret, longing, and determination all rolled into one. How could someone so dangerous feel like a strange sort of refuge, even as he’s telling me about a threat that could annihilate us all?

My eyelids grow heavier with each thought, but my mind refuses to settle. Every time I think about the professor, an unwanted flutter sparks behind my ribcage. It’s the kind of feeling I’ve only read about in novels—part adrenaline, part attraction, and part dread.

Stop thinking about it, I tell myself. I just need to get some sleep. Yet I know when morning comes, I’ll still be drowning in a thousand questions and probably not rested at all. Was everything he said true? Why me? How am I supposed to handle this?

Eventually, fatigue wins out, tugging me under. My last thought, before darkness fully claims me, is that I wish Lara were here. I wish I could whisper all my fears into her ear, let her reassure me this is some wild misunderstanding. But the truth feels too close, too undeniable. And as I drift into a fitful sleep, all I can do is hope that, somehow, I’ll find my footing in this new reality—before it swallows me whole.

The knocking is violent,relentless, and drags me from the depths of yet another nightmare. My body jerks upright, tangled in sweat-damp sheets, my pulse hammering in my ears. I gasp for air, disoriented, my mind sluggishly clawing its way out of sleep. The noise pounds on, louder, more insistent, more demanding.

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