Corazon.
Voyeur.
It had been days since Sophia had a nightly visit from Damon. Now, she could feel the heavy weight of a gaze on her. She was being watched. Just because Damon hadn’t physically appeared before her eyes, didn’t mean he wasn’t around. She knew, without glancing around, that somewhere beyond the main quad of the university was a large black crow.
Sophia stifled a mischievous smile, and turned to the young man vying for her attention. He was a history major, just like her, and was also on his lunch break. His name was Mike, or Michael – she couldn’t remember, and didn’t really care. He was handsome enough, with auburn hair that sometimes shone red in the sun, and eyes that were toeing the line between a pale grey and a very bright, light green. Across his nose was a very soft spattering of faint freckles that no ordinary eyes could see. But Sophia wasn’t ordinary. And Mike’s good looks, though decent enough for the other girls was nothing, she knew, compared to Damon’s.
He was also tall, so tall that she had to painfully crane her neck to look up at him as he spoke to her. She never had that problem with Damon, who was just an inch or two above her meagre stature. Mike was a good boy, honest, intelligent, and she could feel his aura go warm and rosy whenever she accidentally-on-purpose touched him, or when her eyes met his. She knew that playing with him was wrong, but she just loved feeling him react to her simple actions. It was so deliciously human, something she was not.
He was talking about his family, but Sophia was hardly paying attention to his spoken words. She was picking out his brain, sifting through the images he was so plainly broadcasting. Without effort, she knew Damon was also picking them up, and they infuriated him. Mike wanted to kiss her, but it wasn’t just that. He wanted more than that. He wanted to take her home to meet his parents, to whisk her away to his holiday house to enjoy some days in the sun and her company. He was imagining her walking down the beach that he had visited so often in his childhood, a beach he was now sharing with her. She was holding his hand, and the salty air was blowing through the long locks of her hair as they made their way down the stretch of sand.
Mike was a hopeless romantic, and it made Sophia turn pale.
He was wasting it all on her, instead of some other poor girl he could have had a proper chance with. Sophia would never see that holiday house, that stretch of sand, his parents. She just couldn’t be that selfish. She pitied that he felt so strongly for her, yet she continued to flounce about the quad with him, her movements careful and precise for her audience. If Damon was going to spy on them, she might as well give him a show.
They were sitting down, now, not too far from her next lecture hall. Sophia shuffled that little bit closer toward him, and felt surprise, and then delight colour his mind and aura. He was still talking, stuttering slightly at her closeness, and then altogether silent when she placed her small hand on his and twined her fingers around his. Simultaneously, she broadcast a thought so strong that Damon was bound to get it.
‘I like him. I like him very, very much,’ she seemed to say, just before her mouth met his in a kiss that was so slow, and so sweet that anyone watching would have turned away in politeness. But Damon wasn’t polite, Sophia knew, and it was his fault for spying on her. From across the courtyard, she could feel his anger flare, which only seemed to feed her delight, which Mike took as a sign that she was enjoying herself.
Oh yes, she was enjoying herself, just not the way he expected.
Mike had also reminded her of something very important. Her mouth was softly aching around her canines, which were lengthening the more they kissed, the harder he pressed his warmth into her. She fought not to open her mouth against his, fought to keep it chaste, for his own good. It was true that he meant little to her, but he meant enough not to become one of her victims. That thought was all it took for her to wrench herself from him, just as she thought she was going to expose his neck and tear into it, and run away, run far, far away.
Sophia stifled a mischievous smile, and turned to the young man vying for her attention. He was a history major, just like her, and was also on his lunch break. His name was Mike, or Michael – she couldn’t remember, and didn’t really care. He was handsome enough, with auburn hair that sometimes shone red in the sun, and eyes that were toeing the line between a pale grey and a very bright, light green. Across his nose was a very soft spattering of faint freckles that no ordinary eyes could see. But Sophia wasn’t ordinary. And Mike’s good looks, though decent enough for the other girls was nothing, she knew, compared to Damon’s.
He was also tall, so tall that she had to painfully crane her neck to look up at him as he spoke to her. She never had that problem with Damon, who was just an inch or two above her meagre stature. Mike was a good boy, honest, intelligent, and she could feel his aura go warm and rosy whenever she accidentally-on-purpose touched him, or when her eyes met his. She knew that playing with him was wrong, but she just loved feeling him react to her simple actions. It was so deliciously human, something she was not.
He was talking about his family, but Sophia was hardly paying attention to his spoken words. She was picking out his brain, sifting through the images he was so plainly broadcasting. Without effort, she knew Damon was also picking them up, and they infuriated him. Mike wanted to kiss her, but it wasn’t just that. He wanted more than that. He wanted to take her home to meet his parents, to whisk her away to his holiday house to enjoy some days in the sun and her company. He was imagining her walking down the beach that he had visited so often in his childhood, a beach he was now sharing with her. She was holding his hand, and the salty air was blowing through the long locks of her hair as they made their way down the stretch of sand.
Mike was a hopeless romantic, and it made Sophia turn pale.
He was wasting it all on her, instead of some other poor girl he could have had a proper chance with. Sophia would never see that holiday house, that stretch of sand, his parents. She just couldn’t be that selfish. She pitied that he felt so strongly for her, yet she continued to flounce about the quad with him, her movements careful and precise for her audience. If Damon was going to spy on them, she might as well give him a show.
They were sitting down, now, not too far from her next lecture hall. Sophia shuffled that little bit closer toward him, and felt surprise, and then delight colour his mind and aura. He was still talking, stuttering slightly at her closeness, and then altogether silent when she placed her small hand on his and twined her fingers around his. Simultaneously, she broadcast a thought so strong that Damon was bound to get it.
‘I like him. I like him very, very much,’ she seemed to say, just before her mouth met his in a kiss that was so slow, and so sweet that anyone watching would have turned away in politeness. But Damon wasn’t polite, Sophia knew, and it was his fault for spying on her. From across the courtyard, she could feel his anger flare, which only seemed to feed her delight, which Mike took as a sign that she was enjoying herself.
Oh yes, she was enjoying herself, just not the way he expected.
Mike had also reminded her of something very important. Her mouth was softly aching around her canines, which were lengthening the more they kissed, the harder he pressed his warmth into her. She fought not to open her mouth against his, fought to keep it chaste, for his own good. It was true that he meant little to her, but he meant enough not to become one of her victims. That thought was all it took for her to wrench herself from him, just as she thought she was going to expose his neck and tear into it, and run away, run far, far away.