6

6

Damon’s POV 

I should have ended this before it began.

Alexa was becoming reckless, showing up at my office unannounced, pressing against me the moment the door clicked shut, her pulse like a siren’s call that I could no longer ignore. I had always prided myself on my control—centuries of discipline, restraint. But with her, it was slipping. I was slipping.

Tonight was no different.

She had barely walked through the door before I had her pressed against it, her fingers threading through my hair, her breath hot against my neck as she whispered my name.

“Someone could walk in,” I murmured, though I didn’t push her away.

She smirked against my skin. “Then make me be quiet.”

I growled low in my throat, my fingers tightening around her waist. This girl had no fear. And worse, she knew exactly what she was doing to me.

I was seconds away from bending her over my desk when the handle of the door suddenly jiggled.

I froze.

Alexa’s eyes went wide, her body stiffening against mine.

A sharp knock followed. “Professor Blackwell?”

Fucking hell.

I recognized the voice instantly—Professor Reid, one of the faculty members I had tolerated for the past few years. His scent was muted behind the heavy wooden door, but I could hear his pulse, steady and calm. He hadn’t caught us—yet.

Alexa stared at me, eyes flickering with something between panic and arousal. She liked the risk.

I pressed a finger to her lips, silencing the breath she was about to release.

“Give me a second, Reid,” I called out smoothly. “I’m finishing something.”

I could feel Alexa smirking behind my hand. Brat.

“Well, I was just going to drop off the reports for next week,” Reid said. “I can leave them with you now—”

No. Too risky.

I let go of Alexa and crossed the room in a blur, yanking the door open before he could step inside. His eyes flickered up at me, and I could see the moment his brows furrowed.

“What is it?” I asked, keeping my tone even.

Reid blinked. “I—” He glanced behind me, as if sensing something off.

My grip tightened on the door.

He knew. Maybe not exactly what I was doing, but he could sense it. Humans were predictable—they noticed when something felt… unnatural.

I sighed. I didn’t have time for this.

“Forget you saw me tonight,” I murmured, letting my voice sink into something low, something commanding. His pupils instantly dilated, his shoulders sagging as his mind blurred. “You dropped off the reports. You never knocked. You never saw me.”

A beat of silence.

Then—he nodded.

“I never saw you.” His voice was empty, distant.

I stepped back. “Go home, Reid.”

He turned without another word, disappearing down the hall.

I shut the door, exhaling sharply.

“That,” Alexa said from behind me, her voice breathless, “was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

I turned to find her leaning against my desk, one leg crossed over the other, watching me like a predator waiting to pounce.

“You shouldn’t have been here,” I muttered, but my control had already snapped the second I saw the way she was looking at me.

I was across the room in an instant, my hands on either side of her thighs, my body caging hers against the desk.

“You liked that, didn’t you?” I murmured, running my fingers up her thigh.

Her breath hitched. “Maybe.”

I smirked, pressing my lips to her ear. “Then let’s make it riskier.”

I had her pressed against the professor’s podium in under five minutes.

The room was dark, the only light coming from the moon filtering through the tall windows. Rows of empty seats surrounded us, watching, bearing witness.

Alexa shivered as I trailed my lips down her neck, my hands gripping her thighs, spreading her open for me. She was already wet.

“Fuck, Damon,” she breathed, her hands digging into my shoulders.

I smirked against her skin. “You like being watched, don’t you?”

She moaned softly as I pushed inside her in one deep, slow thrust. God, she felt like sin. Tight. Warm. Addictive.

She cried out, but I swallowed the sound, dragging my tongue against her pulse point, feeling the way it fluttered wildly beneath my lips.

I rocked into her, slow at first, teasing, making her writhe against me. I wanted her desperate.

I kissed along her jaw, savoring the scent of her arousal mixed with the intoxicating pulse of her blood. It was getting harder to ignore the hunger clawing at my insides—the need to sink my fangs into her, to mark her as mine.

She tangled her fingers in my hair, pulling my head back just enough to meet my gaze. Her pupils were blown, her lips swollen, her breath ragged.

“Do it,” she whispered.

I growled deep in my throat. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

She tightened around me, her nails raking down my back. “Yes, I do.”

And that was my undoing.

I slammed into her harder, our bodies moving together in a frantic, messy rhythm. The desk creaked beneath us, the sound of our skin meeting echoing in the empty hall.

And then—I lost control.

My fangs pierced her neck, and the second her blood hit my tongue, everything else vanished.

It was different this time—worse. Stronger.

I drank deeply, greedily, my hips still moving, fucking her through the high.

Her moans turned breathless, her hands trembling against my skin. Her pulse fluttered dangerously.

And that’s when I felt it.

The shift. The line I was about to cross.

Her heartbeat slowed.

Too much.

Too fast.

I tore myself away, panting, my chest heaving as I forced myself to let go. To stop.

Alexa sagged against me, boneless, dazed, ruined. Her eyes barely opened, her lips parted, her breathing shallow. I had taken too much.

I almost killed her.

Panic surged through me. I caught her face between my hands, forcing her gaze to mine. “Alexa.”

She hummed softly, her lips curling into a weak, blissed-out smile. “That was… incredible.”

I clenched my jaw. She had no idea.

I had been seconds away from draining her dry, from ending her life with the same hands that now stroked her cheek. I breathed out in relief, resting my head against her forehead.