Chapter 5

Iris

I turned and walked away without waiting for his reply. Inside, I felt a strange mix of relief and lingering bitterness. Every single word I said was honest, so was the fact that I had wanted to trust him, even a little. That mistake wouldn’t happen again.

I felt his gaze follow me throughout before his friends burst out laughing behind him.

 “Bro, don’t sweat it. She's just throwing a tantrum. Girls like her always do once they realize what they’re missing.”

“Yeah, man. Her ice princess act won’t last long. Soon she'll be all heartbroken and come running back.” another added.

I heard them, but I didn't care.  If they wanted to delude themselves, so be it. I had bigger problems to deal with.

Their laughter faded behind me as I disappeared from sight, ignoring the look I received from passersby who had no doubt watched the entire thing. Taking a deep breath, I set my mind on focus.

Classes, GPA, Money and Survival. That was all that mattered.

…

The rest of the day passed in a blur of lectures and notes. I kept my head down, focusing and sifting through every task like clockwork. Without Caleb's presence in my major classes, it was easy to focus.

Before, his presence always served as a distraction. After we began dating, he would constantly attempt to cross my personal boundaries whether it was whispering in my ear,  playing with my hair, or trying to hold my hand during lectures. I had grown irritated by it and tried to be patient, yet despite my constant refusals, he persisted. The more I thought about it, the more relieved I was that it was over.

But there was a new obstacle to my focus. Every quiet moment, my mind drifted back to the mystery man from last night. His voice. His body. The way he had commanded me so easily and made me come harder than I had in months.

I forced the thoughts away but it felt futile. Every reminder  made my mind grow more fuzzy.

By evening, I was barely able to keep my attention as I entered the lecture hall. Based on my new schedule, the new elective class was taking place this evening. Usually,I would have prepared for everything in advance, but thanks to my constant distraction it was all I could do to arrive.

“Get a grip,” I whispered, entering the hall. I blinked in surprise at the large number of people who were present despite being relatively early. There were only a few seats left.

I chose the second row seat at the corner of the hall as more people filled in and began prepping my study materials. What subject was this again?

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah. It happened this morning.”

Whispers rippled through the room. I caught fragments of conversations and realized with a jolt that they were talking about me.

“Did you hear? She  dumped Caleb Sterling in front of everyone. She humiliated him.”

“Bold move. No one rejects a Sterling like that.”

“Wait, are you serious? From what I heard, it was the other way around. Heard she was so pissed that she walked off after he rejected her.”

“she wasn't even in that class anymore. Did she witch? Is that why she's here?”

My jaw clenched. I kept my eyes on my notebook. Gossip traveled fast at Hawthorne, especially when it involved people like Caleb.  I could guess that other rumors came from his friends or Caleb himself, but so what?

 I hated being the center of it, but there was nothing I could do now.

Napping myself back to reality, I looked at the folder containing the details for the subject and stiffened.

'Advanced Literature 380’

And the teacher was-

The door clicked open and the room fell silent. My gaze darted up in time to see a tall figure walk in with calm, measured steps. My heart skipped a beat.

Black hair perfectly styled, sharp cheekbones, and those piercing grey eyes. Up close in the lecture hall he looked even more imposing than when I had bumped into him yesterday. He was dressed in a crisp black button-down, sleeves neatly rolled down and cuffs fastened.

This was Dmitri Sterling’s class. Caleb’s uncle, the cold and enigmatic young professor everyone whispered about. The same man who I'd mortifyingly bumped into yesterday. 

Holy shit.

I took a deep breath to calm myself. Everything was fine, I shouldn't overreact. It didn't mean anything and even if he saw me, he wouldn't care. He was just a sexy monk like Jean said. Nothing to worry about,

As he stood on the podium, his gaze roved over the room, as though assessing for something. I could have sworn his eyes flicked towards me for the brief moment it moved to my direction, but that was just wishful thinking.

I set my gaze down, taking a deep breath to focus. Everything was alright. A okay-

“Good evening, everyone and welcome back to Advanced Literature.”

My entire body went still.

That voice. Deep and smooth. It sounded just like-

No. It was just my imagination. Coincidence. Lots of men had deep voices. My mind was playing tricks after the intense private call last night. 

Professor Sterling was an accomplished man whose class I now needed to pass. DevotedDom was just a faceless patron. Nothing more.

He began the lecture, his tone cool and professional as he spoke on the current topic which was themes of forbidden desire in classic literature. I tried to focus on taking notes, but my pulse wouldn’t slow down. 

I didn't even realize when I stopped keeping my head down. Every time he moved, I found myself watching him closely. His motion, just like his voice, was magnetic.

It was no wonder so many people joined his class.

Forcing those thoughts away, I kept my head down for the rest of the time. 

Time slipped by and soon enough the lecture was ending. When asked for questions, I heard someone behind me speak.

 “Professor, how do unspoken desires drive character actions in these texts?”

I instinctively looked up to find him looking contemplative, considering it. When he turned to the direction his gaze flickered once more.

“Thats an interesting question,” he began, “The answer to that is quite simple; everything. Every unspoken desire, is what usually displays the true nature of the characters, as it does to us in reality. The outward veneer tends to be a cloak. Take Madame Defarge in ‘A Tale of Two Cities’, whose fight for a revolution seemed noble until the end where her true desire for vengeance against the Evrémondes was revealed, or Sydney Carton, who hid his devotion for Lucie, eventually sacrificing himself or her happiness. Hatred, passion, vengeance, envy, love. All are dangerous emotions, one we've been trained to hide for fear of the social repercussions. Look no further than Anna Karenina’s fate.” 

 

Without warning, he reached up and began rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, first one arm, then the other. The class murmured in surprise.

 “He’s never done that before.” someone behind me said, but my mind was abuzz as my eyes locked onto his left forearm.

There, whilst mostly hidden underneath the black turtleneck was a tattoo.

A tattoo of a snake.

My pulse raced. It was unmistakable. The same intricate design I had seen on the mystery man’s arm during our private video call last night. The same dark ink that had been visible when he stroked his cock for me.

No. No way. It couldn't be.

“I believe however,” his voice rumbled, “That some desires should be pursued, regardless of societal repercussions. We are humans, not tools. Life is meant to be lived, not solely experienced and sometimes the passion one finds is the sole reminder they are alive.”  

When I looked up again, my blood froze. His grey eyes were fixed directly on me.

Our gazes locked across the lecture hall. The air between us felt charged, electric. His expression must have seemed cool and unreadable to everyone else, but I saw it. The quiet intensity. The confirmation.

“And when you have that passion in your grasp,” he said, “you should chase after it and never let go.”

The pieces slammed together with brutal clarity. The familiar voice. The way he had suddenly asked for a private call after years of staying hidden, hours after I'd bumped into him. 

The deliberate way he had lifted his sleeves right now, in the middle of class, when he supposedly never did.

DevotedDom wasn’t some anonymous stranger. He was Dmitri Sterling. My professor. Caleb’s uncle. The man standing at the front of the room right now.

And he knew.

He knew who I was from the moment he saw my phone. He had lifted those sleeves on purpose. He wanted me to see the tattoo. He wanted me to know exactly who had been watching me, paying me, commanding me to come while I moaned his name in my head.

Heat flooded my cheeks even as dread settled heavy in my stomach. This couldn’t be happening. The man I had fantasized about, the one whose voice had made me wetter than anyone ever had, was now my professor. He knew my deepest secret.

And from the way he looked at me, he had no intention of letting me forget it.