The biker

It's been two days since the encounter with Silas and Alaric. I've tried hard to avoid Alaric but I feel like it's becoming impossible. I have a class with him tomorrow and I'm dreading it.

The library parking lot was quiet and dark. It was nearly midnight, and my brain was fried from trying to memorize property laws, but mostly from trying to scrub the memory of Silas’s touch and Alaric’s voice out of my head.

I just wanted to get to my car. I wanted to go to sleep and wake up as a normal girl again—the girl who didn't feel like her skin was on fire.

"Elena! Wait up!"

I groaned, my shoulders dropping. Marcus was standing by my old car, looking smug. He’d clearly been waiting for me.

"I have nothing to say to you, Marcus. Move."

"You think you’re so high and mighty now?" he spat, stepping into my path. He looked different, his eyes darting around. "I saw you getting into that silver car today. Who was that? Some rich sugar daddy? Is that how you’re paying for this semester?"

"It’s none of your business. Get out of my way."

He grabbed my wrist, and this time, he didn't let go. His fingers squeezed until I winced. "I made you, Elena. Without me, you’re just a girl from the trailer park with a pretty face. If you don't come back to my place tonight and talk this out, I’ll call the dean. I’ll tell them you’re 'servicing' donors for tuition. I’ll ruin that scholarship so fast your head will spin."

"You wouldn't," I whispered, horror dawning on me. He was a narcissist, but this was a new low.

"Try me. I have nothing to lose. Now, get in the car—"

A loud bone-shaking roar cut him off.

The sound was deafening, it vibrated through my chest, I looked back and it was a massive black motorcycle, it moved into the parking lot, tires screaming as it drifted in a tight circle around us, kicking up smoke and dust.

The rider was a giant. He wore a worn leather vest over a black hoodie, the sleeves pushed up to reveal arms covered in thick, dark tattoos. He killed the engine, and the silence that followed was even more terrifying.

He hopped off the bike, moving closer to us, I felt terrified at his frame. When he pulled off his helmet, I nearly fell over.

It was the face again. Who the fuck did I offend, huh?

But this version was different, more rugged. His hair was a wild, dark mess, and a rough scar ran through his eyebrow and down his cheek. He looked like he’d spent his life fighting, and winning.

"Let go of her," the biker said. His voice was deeper and more dangerous than Alaric’s or Silas’s. I can't help but compare because he looks like them but I'm sure they have no business to associate with his kind, not trying to sound bad but look at him.

"Who the hell are you?" Marcus yelled, trying to sound tough despite his voice cracking.

The biker didn't answer with words. He moved faster than I could blink. One second he was ten feet away, and the next, he had Marcus by the throat, slamming him against the side of my car. The door pressed from the force.

"I’m the guy who’s going to feed you if you touch her again," the biker growled. He lifted Marcus off the ground by his neck. Marcus’s face went purple, his legs kicking uselessly.

"Please! Stop!" I cried out, grabbing the biker’s leather-clad arm.

The moment I touched him, the world exploded.

It was like sticking my hand into an open socket. The bite mark on my neck didn't just heat up—it burned my whole body. My knees buckled, and for a second, I thought I was going to faint.

The biker dropped Marcus like a sack of potatoes. Marcus scrambled away, gasping for air, and ran away without looking back.

The biker turned to me. He didn't offer a hand. He stepped into my space, his heavy boots making noise on the pavement, and pinned me against the seat of his motorcycle. He smelled of gasoline, expensive tobacco, and a musky, animal scent that made my inner thighs ache.

"You're a messy little thing, aren't you?" he muttered, his eyes—those same piercing, predatory blue eyes—scanning my face. He reached out, his calloused thumb dragging over my bottom lip.

"Who... who are you?" I whispered, my breath coming in short gasps. My body was betraying me again. I wanted to wrap my legs around his waist and kiss him. What's wrong with me, what are these men doing to me?

"Name's Killian," he said, his hand sliding up to my neck, his palm covering the mark Alaric had left. "And you’re coming with me."

"No!" I shouted, the word finally tearing out of my throat. I shoved his chest with everything I had. "No! I don't know you! Leave me alone, Let me go for fuck sake!"

I was shouting, hoping that someone would hear me.

"I am not that kind of girl!" I screamed at his face, my voice echoing in the empty lot. "I’m not some... some toy you can just pick up! Stay away from me! All of you, stay away!" I screamed like a mad woman, I was basically losing my mind here and all I could do was run.

I didn't wait for him to respond. I scrambled into my car, fumbling with the keys, my hands shaking so hard I dropped them twice. Killian didn't chase me. He just stood there, his arms crossed over his massive chest, watching me with a dark, knowing smirk.

I drove out of the lot, driving like a maniac until I reached my dorm. I ran inside, locked the door, pushed my dresser in front of it, and collapsed onto my bed.

I was losing my mind.

I laid there in the dark, staring at the ceiling. The Professor. The Billionaire. The Biker. They weren't just similar. They had the exact same eyes. The same way of looking at me like I was a piece of meat they were waiting to devour.

What is happening to me? Am I in some game? Where did I go wrong?

My phone buzzed on the nightstand. Then again. And again. I tried ignoring it, I had serious things to settle but the constant noise wasn't doing me any good.

A notification lit up the screen. A different unknown number.

12:00 AM:“You’re mine to protect, little bird. Try to run again and see what happens. — K”

There is only one person I know that has a name beginning with K and it is that motherfucker.

How did he get my number? I don't remember giving out any information about me. I dropped the phone on the mattress as if it had burned me. My neck began to glow, a faint, red light shining through the fabric of my shirt.

The pain that followed was something else, I tried clawing at the wound but it only made things worse, what have I gotten myself involved in?

And then, I heard it.

Inside my head, three distinct, low growls vibrated against my skull, harmonizing into a single, terrifying command that made me freeze on spot

“Ours.”

Then everything went dark.