Alpha’s Desire 4

“Professor Damian, is that you?”

Zaria’s voice echoed through the empty corridor. The sound bounced off the walls and faded into the soft hum of the flickering fluorescent lights. There was no answer. There was no sign of life. Only the chill in the air and her hesitant footsteps, barely daring to move forward, remained.

Zaria stood still for a moment, listening, perhaps hoping to hear another sound: a step, a breath—anything that would prove she wasn’t alone. But the corridor swallowed every trace of life, devouring even the faintest whisper. She swallowed hard; her heartbeat raced faster than usual and warmth spread through her body despite the freezing air.

Zaria whispered to herself, “There’s no one here.”

Yet her heart refused to believe it. Something lingered within the silence—something she couldn’t explain.

Zaria began to walk slowly. The soft click of her shoes echoed off the marble floor and the pale white light above. The uniform, cold walls stretched endlessly on either side, as if there were no end to them.

With every step, the strange feeling grew stronger. Zaria could sense eyes on her, but she couldn’t tell where they were coming from. Every now and then, she glanced behind her, but there was no one there.

Zaria stopped midway down the corridor and held her breath. The light above her flickered suddenly, casting fleeting shadows across the wall. For a moment, she thought she saw something move at the edge of her vision: a fast, fleeting silhouette, like a flash.

Her body froze. Every muscle tensed. Her breathing became shallow and the hand clutching her folder began to tremble. Then—

“Oh, dear!”

Zaria jumped, startled. An old woman appeared on her right, carrying a mop bucket filled with water. She had a kind but weary face, and her hair was neatly combed but hastily arranged.

“Mrs—Mrs Lila!' Zaria gasped, covering her mouth and trying to steady her breathing.

Lila Brooks, the cleaning lady, tilted her head. “Are you all right? You look pale,” she said. Then she suddenly seemed to realise something. Her eyes widened with guilt. “Oh dear, I didn't mean to frighten you.”

Zaria quickly shook her head. “No, I just…” She stammered, trying to calm herself. “I thought I saw someone here.”

“Someone?” Lila glanced around the silent corridor. “There’s no one here, dear. The building’s been empty for over an hour.”

Zaria’s face stiffened, but she forced a smile anyway. “Yes, maybe it was just my imagination.”

Lila nodded. “It could have just been the light's shadow. This building loves to play little tricks when it gets quiet,” she said, looking at her sympathetically. “So, what brings you here this late? Are you meeting a professor?”

“Yes,” Zaria nodded, lifting the folder she was carrying. “I have an appointment with Professor Damian. We’re going to discuss my research.”

Lila nodded thoughtfully. “His office light was still on when I passed by earlier. He must still be there.”

Zaria exhaled in relief. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome,” said Lila, then added gently, “Don't stay too long, dear. It’s almost night.”

Zaria nodded once more before walking away. She didn’t notice that Lila watched her go for quite a while, her expression turning vague—caught somewhere between worry and curiosity—before she finally returned to her work.

*

Damian’s office was at the end of another corridor, darker and quieter. When Zaria reached it, she found the old wooden door slightly ajar, with a sliver of warm light spilling out from inside.

Zaria knocked softly and a deep voice came from within.

“Come in.”

Zaria slowly pushed the door open and stepped inside. The scent of coffee and polished wood greeted her, creating a feeling that was both soothing and tense at once.

Damian’s office looked exactly as it always had. The walls were lined with tall bookshelves, and the desk in the centre was neatly arranged with a few stacks of papers. A desk lamp illuminated part of the room, leaving the rest shrouded in shadow.

Damian sat behind his desk, turning a page of a thick book. His gaze lifted the moment Zaria closed the door.

“Good evening, Professor,” Zaria greeted him cautiously.

Damian gave a slight nod. “Sit down.”

Damian’s voice was deep and calm, yet for some reason it made Zaria nervous. Her hand trembled slightly as she pulled out the chair and sat down opposite him.

Zaria opened her folder and placed several sheets of paper on the table. When she lifted her head, she found that Damian was still watching her. His silent, intense, unblinking gaze made her heart beat faster. She opened her mouth to speak, but Damian beat her to it.

“Did something happen to you?”

Zaria froze. “Something?”

“Your face looks different,” Damian said quietly, his tone sharp despite its softness. “You seem frightened.”

Zaria lowered her gaze. “Perhaps I'm just tired.”

Damian rose from his seat and walked around the desk. His steps were unhurried, yet every movement carried an invisible weight. Zaria could feel it—the air seemed to shift, becoming denser and colder.

Zaria held her breath without realising when he stopped in front of her. Her heart raced faster as he lifted a hand.

Damian’s fingers brushed the side of her face, wiping away a bead of sweat that had trickled down from her temple. “You seem tense,” he murmured. “Am I scaring you?”

Zaria fell silent, knowing that her answer wasn’t entirely “no”. Still, she shook her head quickly. “No, Professor. I was just startled, that's all.”

Damian studied Zaria’s face for a long moment—long enough that she could barely bear to look back at him. Then, without warning, he moved his hand down and cupped her chin, lifting it gently.

Their eyes met and the world around them seemed to vanish. His voice was low and deliberate. “I hope you know who you’re trying to deceive, Zaria.”

Zaria swallowed hard. His words felt like a blade slowly sinking into her consciousness. She wanted to ask what he meant, but she couldn't make a sound.

Damian released her chin and turned away, his expression returning to its usual unreadable calm. “Zaria,” he said, his voice back to its composed, professional tone. “You came here to discuss your research, didn't you?”

Zaria let out a small gasp and nodded quickly. “Yes, Professor.”

“Then…” Damian sat back down. “Focus.”

Zaria nodded again and forced herself to look at her notes. But her mind refused to settle.

Every word that left Damian’s mouth carried weight: measured and deliberate, and laced with something she couldn’t name. She scribbled down random notes—mostly to appear busy—while inside her, everything spun in circles: fear, curiosity, and something else she couldn’t define.

A few moments later, Damian closed the folder in front of him. “That will be all for today.”

Zaria quickly gathered her papers and stood up. “Thank you, Professor.”

She was about to leave when Damian called her name.

“Zaria.”

Instinctively, she turned. “Yes, Professor?”

“Next time,” he said evenly, “don’t come here alone at this hour.” Although his tone didn’t sound like a reprimand, there was something beneath it that she couldn’t quite read. “Do you understand?”

Zaria could only nod. “I understand, Professor.”

Damian said nothing more. He merely watched her for a moment before turning back to his work.

Zaria left his office in slow, measured steps. It was only when the door clicked shut behind her that she realised she had been holding her breath the entire time.

*

Night fell quickly. By the time Zaria returned to her room, the dormitory was quiet. Outside the window, a thin rain was falling, blurring the streetlights into soft streaks of gold.

Zaria placed the folder on her desk and sat on the edge of her bed. But her mind was still caught inside Damian’s office.

Every time she thought about his gaze, she felt a stirring in her chest—not just nervousness, but an unfamiliar tension.

“Focus,” Zaria muttered to herself, mimicking Damian’s voice. “Focus.”

Zaria tried to stop thinking about him. She read a book and rewrote her notes, but her eyes never truly followed the words. When she finally turned on her laptop and opened her research draft, Damian’s shadow filled her mind again: his voice, his eyes, his calm yet cutting words.

“I hope you know who you’re trying to deceive, Zaria.”

Zaria leaned back in her chair and stared at the night sky beyond the window. The rain kept falling softly, washing the world in grey and gold.

Time slipped by, yet her thoughts refused to settle. The wind brushed against the window and she blinked, then her eyes widened.

The forest.

Zaria was standing in the middle of a dark, damp forest. The air was cold and biting, and thick mist rolled between the trees, obscuring both sight and sound.

Confusion struck her. The place felt foreign. She took a few cautious steps, glancing around as her shoes sank into the wet ground.

Something blocked her path. She stopped, looked down—and froze.

Before her lay a sight that drained the colour from her face: the bodies of wolves, their fur soaked in blood and their glassy eyes staring blankly at the sky, scattered across the ground.

Zaria stumbled backwards and screamed. The sound echoed through the trees before dying into silence. She spun around to run, but her foot slipped and she fell hard into the cold, muddy ground, smearing it across her clothes.

A heavy sound came from behind the fog—harsh breathing, like that of a large creature stalking its prey. Zaria looked up and, through the mist, saw a pair of glowing yellow eyes piercing the darkness.

A massive wolf emerged slowly. It was taller than an adult human, its fur pitch-black and its gaze sharp as a blade.

Every hair on Zaria’s body stood on end. She was seized by real fear and forced herself to move, to escape before it was too late.

Zaria ran. She didn’t look back, just kept sprinting between the trees until her lungs burned. Branches whipped her face and mud clung to her shoes as she stumbled repeatedly. The sound of heavy footsteps closed in behind her. She turned just in time to see the wolf leap, and the world shook apart.

“Zaria!”

Zaria screamed as her shoulders were shaken hard.

“Zaria, wake up.”

Her eyes flew open. Her breath came in short, uneven gasps. Sweat clung to her skin. For a moment, her vision was blurred and her heart was still pounding from the terror, but then she heard the deep, familiar voice again.

Zaria turned her head and froze. “P-Professor?”

Damian was standing beside her desk, one hand on the table and the other on her shoulder. “Yes, it's me.”

Zaria stared at him, still disoriented. Her voice trembled as she asked, “What are you doing in my room?”

*