Chp 4
1229 Words
Zyra Pov
I tapped the tip of my pen against my notebook, the faint metallic click echoing in my ears as my chest tightened. Each sound, each movement felt magnified, a distorted rhythm keeping time with the rapid thud of my heart. My hands were clammy, my grip uneven, yet I forced myself to focus on the notes before me, to pretend that the tension gripping me wasn’t entirely because of him.
He was sitting across from me, that impossible presence looming even from the distance of our desks. Dael Morozov. The same towering, red-eyed alpha from the courtyard, the corridor, and the classroom, the boy whose mere gaze had reduced my pulse to chaos. His eyes were fixed on me again, dark and unreadable, his expression teasing, yet edged with danger I couldn’t name.
I tried to ignore him. Really, I did. I focused on the page, the pen, the neat lines of my handwriting. I even told myself that he was just another student, that the world didn’t revolve around him, that the stifling tension wasn’t his fault… but my body refused to comply. My stomach fluttered, my fingers twitched, and a flush of heat rose to my cheeks.
He smirked faintly, as if sensing my failed attempts at composure. The corner of his mouth lifted, subtle and deliberate, a silent challenge that made the hairs on my arms stand on end. His eyes pierced through the distance like blades, unrelenting, calculating. Every time my gaze flicked toward him, my chest constricted, my thoughts scrambling.
And then the door opened.
The professor stepped in, his presence commanding immediate respect. A hush fell across the classroom as every student rose instinctively, bowing their heads slightly in deference. My hands froze on my pen, and I followed suit, heart hammering like a drum. When the professor’s voice finally broke the silence, it was low, precise, and authoritative.
“Please, be seated,” he commanded, and the room shifted as every student lowered themselves onto their chairs.
I exhaled slowly, relief mingling with the lingering tension but it was short-lived. The professor’s gaze swept across the room, sharp and discerning, before settling on a single figure. Dael Morozov.
A faint smirk appeared on Dael’s face, casual, defiant, almost teasing. The professor’s expression darkened, annoyance flickering in the sharp lines of his face.
“Dael Morozov,” he said, voice deliberate, every syllable heavy with authority. “You will be attending all my sessions as a punishment for your recent actions, assaulting another student and hospitalization of one of your peers will not be ignored.”
A chill traveled down my spine. My fingers tightened around my pen. The other alpha? Hospitalized? That could only mean… the extent of his strength, his recklessness, his danger. He could do anything. And yet, there was no fear in his eyes just that infuriating, dark amusement, like he knew exactly the panic his reputation incited.
The professor’s gaze swept the room again. “I will be changing seating arrangements. I want every student focused. No talking. No distractions. Seriousness is expected.”
I felt my pulse spike. My stomach lurched. My mind screamed warnings I couldn’t articulate. I knew where this was going. Every worst-case scenario I had imagined since the first day of class seemed to be converging right now, circling me like a predator.
The professor began calling out names, shuffling students, his voice crisp and measured as he assigned new seats. My hands gripped my books, knuckles whitening, my chest tightening with each name. Each shift of a chair, each murmur of movement around me made my heart race faster.
And then… it happened.
His name was called last. Dael Morozov. My breath hitched, a sharp gasp almost escaping before I forced it down. I didn’t dare look up immediately. My body felt frozen, suspended between anticipation and dread, every nerve on fire.
“Zyra Drovnik,” the professor’s voice continued, dragging me out of my panic. “You’ll be seated… here.”
I lifted my gaze slowly, and my stomach dropped into a pit I hadn’t known existed.
He was sliding into the desk beside me. His long legs folded neatly, jacket tossed casually over one shoulder, tie still loose. His proximity made the air between us heavy, electric, suffocating. My chest constricted, my pulse hammering as though it would burst through my ribs.
His eyes, dark, piercing, smoldering with something unspoken, met mine instantly. And then… that smirk, the one that had haunted me since the playground, tugged at the corner of his lips.
I wanted to look away. I wanted to disappear. But my body betrayed me. My gaze clung to him, unwilling to break free from the weight of his stare. Each second stretched painfully, my thoughts scattered, consumed by the same horrifying, intoxicating tension.
He leaned slightly closer, just enough that I could feel the faint heat radiating from him, a subtle, almost imperceptible challenge that sent shivers down my spine. I clutched my pen tighter, pressing it against my palm, trying desperately to focus on the paper, on anything but him.
But nothing worked.
Every time I tried to read, the words blurred. Every time I tried to breathe evenly, my chest betrayed me. Every time I reminded myself to stay calm, he reminded me, with the weight of his presence, the intensity of his gaze, that calm was impossible.
My thoughts tumbled over themselves. Why me? Why now? What does he want? My imagination ran wild, conjuring scenarios darker than reality, each more terrifying than the last. And yet… beneath the fear, beneath the panic, a strange thrill coursed through me. A dangerous pull I didn’t understand, couldn’t resist.
The professor began his lecture, the words fading into the background as I felt the heat of his stare burning into my side. My notes became meaningless scribbles as every nerve in my body focused entirely on the silent, smoldering energy beside me.
He whispered something, a barely audible murmur meant only for me. I wasn’t sure if it was real or imagined. My stomach lurched, my pulse thundered. And then I realized… he had claimed me, even without words.
The classroom walls seemed to shrink, the chatter of students dimmed, and all that existed was him: the towering alpha, the red-eyed predator, the one who could destroy or dominate with ease. And yet, the tension between us was something else entirely, danger wrapped in desire, fear tangled with fascination, terror mixed with an unspoken promise I couldn’t yet name.
I pressed my lips together, forcing my hands to stop shaking. But it was useless. Every instinct screamed danger, every fiber of my being wanted to flee, and yet every glance, every subtle shift of his posture, kept me rooted to the spot.
The bell for the next session had not yet rung. I could feel it coming, change, chaos, the moment when he would test boundaries, assert dominance, and make it impossible for me to ignore him.
My heart raced. My throat tightened. And as I glanced at him again, that faint, infuriating smirk still on his lips, I realized something with a jolt of both fear and fascination:
I was trapped.
Not by walls. Not by rules. But by him.
And the real game, the dangerous, dark, intoxicating game was only just beginning.
- Writer
