I stood there for a moment, letting his meaning wash over me. Up until that moment I thought the Dean was more on the traditional side like my family. Clearly that wasn’t the case.
“No problem. I’m sure I’ll get a lot out of it,” I said, then let myself out of his office.
Margaret smiled at me as I passed her desk. “Have a good day, Mr. Quinn.”
“You too,” I replied, trying to keep the excitement out of my voice.
I made it all the way outside before allowing myself a small smile of victory. Phase one complete. Now I just had to figure out how to convince a centuries-old vampire that sleeping with his student was worth the risk.
But first, I couldn’t be late for his class.
I hurried across campus toward the history building, my heart pounding with a mixture of nerves and anticipation. The signed form felt like it was burning a hole in my bag, and I couldn’t quite believe I’d actually gone through with this. Part of me wondered if I was making a huge mistake, but it was too late to back down now.
The history building was one of the older structures on campus, all stone walls and ivy-covered windows that gave it an appropriately ancient atmosphere. I’d walked past it countless times but hadn’t been inside since freshman year. Now, as I climbed the worn stone steps, I felt like I was crossing some kind of threshold.
I found the classroom easily enough, a room on the western side according to the form Dean Thornfield had given me. Through the small window in the door, I could see students already seated, notebooks open and ready. My stomach did a little flip as I realized I was about to see Valen again, and this time I couldn’t run away or pretend it wasn’t happening.
Taking a deep breath, I knocked once and pushed the door open.
The room fell silent as I stepped inside, and I immediately felt the weight of curious stares from the other students. But my attention was entirely focused on the figure standing at the front of the classroom.
Valen looked up from the papers he’d been organizing on his desk, and I watched his amber eyes widen slightly when he saw me. He was dressed more formally than he’d been at fencing practice, in dark slacks and a button-down shirt that made him look every inch the distinguished professor. But I could still see the sharp angles of his face, the way his dark hair caught the light, and suddenly I was remembering exactly how those hands had felt on my skin.
“Can I help you?” he asked, his voice carefully neutral. But I caught the slight tension in his shoulders, the way his grip tightened on the papers he was holding.
“I have a form from Dean Thornfield,” I said, pulling out the signed paper and walking toward his desk. “Permission to audit your class.”
I handed him the form, our fingers brushing briefly as he took it. The contact was barely a second, but it sent electricity shooting up my arm. From the way Valen’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, I knew he’d felt it too.
He scanned the paper quickly, his expression unreadable. “Mr. Quinn wishes to audit Monster History,” he announced to the class, though his eyes remained fixed on the form. “How...unconventional.”
There was something in his tone that made me wonder if he was fighting back a more sarcastic comment. Several students turned to look at me with renewed interest, probably wondering why a Quinn would want to take a class about monster history.
“Please, take a seat,” Valen said, gesturing toward the empty chairs. “We were just beginning our discussion of vampire integration into magical society during the late 19th century.”
I chose a seat in the middle of the room. It was close enough to see him clearly but not so close that it would look suspicious. As I settled into my chair and pulled out a notebook, I caught Valen shooting me a quick glance that I couldn’t quite interpret.
“As I was saying,” he continued, turning back to the class, “the Victorian era marked a significant shift in how vampires were perceived by the broader magical community. Before this period, we were largely viewed as monsters to be hunted or avoided. But social and political changes began to challenge these assumptions.”
I found myself leaning forward, genuinely interested despite my ulterior motives. There was something captivating about theway Valen spoke about history. He didn’t explain it like he’d read about it in books, but like he’d actually lived through it. Which, according to Dean Thornfield, he probably had.
“Can anyone tell me what factors contributed to this change?” he asked, scanning the room.
A werewolf student raised her hand. “The Great War? Vampires fought alongside other supernatural beings against the human persecution campaigns.”
“Excellent point, Miss Chen. The alliance formed during the war years did indeed change perceptions. But there were other factors as well.” His eyes swept across the room and briefly met mine. “Economic necessity, for instance. Vampire-owned businesses became increasingly important to magical commerce.”
I scribbled notes, trying to look like a diligent student while stealing glances at Valen whenever I thought I could get away with it. The way he moved as he lectured, the passionate intensity in his voice when he discussed certain topics… It was impossible not to be drawn to him.
“The integration wasn’t without its challenges, of course,” Valen continued, moving to lean against the front of his desk. “Many traditional magical families resisted the idea of treating vampires as equals. They preferred to maintain the old hierarchies, the old prejudices. Vampires, after all, were considered far more monstrous than other races because of their need to consume blood to survive. Although not all vampires require that kind of sustenance. There are several other types of feeding. However, that distinction wasn’t made until far later in history.”
Something in his tone made me look up sharply, and I found his amber eyes fixed directly on me. The comment felt pointed, like he was speaking directly to me about my own family’sattitudes. Heat crept up my neck as I realized he probably knew exactly what kind of background I came from.
“These families,” he went on, still holding my gaze, “often found themselves on the wrong side of history. Clinging to outdated beliefs while the world changed around them.”
A few other students shifted in their seats, clearly picking up on the tension in the room even if they didn’t understand the source. I forced myself to break eye contact and focus on my notes, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.
The rest of the class passed in a blur of historical dates and social movements, but I found it hard to concentrate on anything other than Valen’s presence at the front of the room. Every gesture, every inflection of his voice seemed designed to remind me of our night together. Or maybe I was just reading too much into everything because I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
