Chapter Twenty-Nine: Carol's POV
Only the two of us were left in the room.
Light fell on his face—his firm jawline and forehead, those deep blue eyes hidden behind gold-rimmed glasses, revealing no emotion.
He stood by my bed, watching me.
My whole body was burning. Hot on the outside, hot on the inside, my exhaled breath scorching as if it would be sucked into his lungs the next second.
He was my professor, the man who had hurt me, the man I should hate with every fiber of my being.
But right now I was suffering. I needed him.
Damn it.
"Isn't this what you wanted? Then do it!" I challenged, my voice carrying a desire I didn't even recognize in myself.
My heart was full of anticipation, hoping he would do whatever he wanted to me like that rainy night, no matter how much I refused, he wouldn't stop—that thought made me both ashamed and terrified, but I just couldn't control it.
This was insane.
But his Adam's apple bobbed, and he said in a low voice: "Carol, I won't make the same mistake again."
Then he slowly exhaled. I could feel his desire—he wanted me badly, genuinely, but he was forcing himself to resist.
"That night I lost control. I allowed something that shouldn't have happened because my state at the time left me incapable of rational judgment. But tonight is different. Tonight I'm clearheaded, fully aware of the consequences of my actions. More importantly, I'm aware that the harm I caused you that night is irreparable."
When I realized he was refusing me, my cheeks burned even hotter, a sense of defeat surging in my heart, mixed with shame and anger, like someone had slapped me in public.
I bit my lip, trembling all over, just feeling humiliated.
The next second, my body began to clamor, the heat wave surging again, this time more violently, like a fire burning inside me, burning me until I almost passed out.
I stared into those blue eyes and said tremblingly: "Then this time, make it up to me."
After those words left my mouth, even I couldn't quite believe it—was that my voice? So low, so full of desire, so dirty.
Something woke up inside my body—but it wasn't my wolf.
Maurice's pupils dilated sharply, those originally calm blue eyes now tinged with a trace of blood red. He no longer kept his distance from me, but welcomed losing control again.
The last bit of resistance disappeared from his face. I could see that desire, suppressed for so long in his eyes, finally breaking through the cage of reason.
I clearly understood that this was my ability: I could make him submit. I could actually do it.
This realization both frightened and excited me—I had power, I could make this vampire who had lived for one hundred and fifty years lose control, could make this professor who was always calm and composed show his weakness.
"Carol, you're fascinating," he said softly, his voice carrying a tenderness I'd never heard before.
He brushed my hair aside, exposing the side of my neck. The movement was gentle, as if handling some fragile treasure, but I could feel his fingers trembling, could feel him forcibly restraining something.
When his fingers caressed my lips and slid down to my throat, I couldn't help but let out a moan. That sound made even me blush, but I couldn't control it. The sensation was too intense, cold fingers sliding across my burning skin, leaving trails of shivers.
He leaned down and kissed my lips, swallowing my sounds.
I locked eyes with those blue ones. My blood was boiling, I could barely speak.
I was doing this with my professor. I felt like I was going to pass out—this thought echoed in my mind, carrying shame and excitement, fear and desire.
"Carol, you smell so intoxicating, absolutely wonderful," he said, his lips pressed against my jaw, sliding all the way down to the side of my neck. His nose nuzzled against the side of my neck, as if deeply inhaling my scent, that gesture both intimate and dangerous.
My whole body couldn't help but tremble. I knew what was coming next, I knew he was going to bite me, and my body was craving that moment.
He bit me. His canines pierced the skin on the side of my neck, that mixture of pain and pleasure almost made me cry out.
I could feel my blood being continuously drawn into his mouth. The sensation was strange, like something flowing out of me, but at the same time a deeper connection was being established, as if we were bound together through blood.
His hand caressed my waist, his fingers exploring like they were in unknown territory, yet accurately finding every place that made me shiver.
He hooked the edge of my underwear and slowly pulled it down. The movement was slow, as if giving me one last chance to refuse, but we both knew I wouldn't refuse—I'd already lost the ability to refuse.
The underwear slid off my legs, casually tossed aside by him with a soft sound, like the sound of my last line of defense collapsing.
I immediately turned my face away and closed my eyes, my chest trembling, because my professor was looking at my naked body, those blue eyes were looking at my most private places, and I had nowhere to hide.
My whole body was burning, the shame unbearable. I wanted to curl up, wanted to run away, wanted to do anything that would make me less exposed, but my body wouldn't obey me—it was craving more.
While he sucked blood from the side of my neck, his long, cold hand slid down the inside of my thigh, touching my private area, then his finger gently pressed on my clitoris.
My whole body felt like it had been struck by lightning, my spine suddenly contracting. The sensation was too intense, so intense I almost passed out, so intense I forgot about shame, forgot about fear, forgot about everything.
That collision of cold and heat made me want to scream with shame, but the pleasure that followed submerged me like a tide—that was a sensation I'd never experienced before.
I felt that sensitive little bud swell and stand erect under his fingertips. Each circular rub brought a sticky wet sound, so clear in the silent room, making me want to die of embarrassment, but my body honestly responded.
I opened my mouth wide wanting to breathe loudly, wanting to protest, but the intense pleasure made me want to moan.
I wanted to escape. If Simon found out about this, he would be furious.
Thinking of this, my face flushed—I was betraying Simon, I was doing this with the vampire he hated most, I was enjoying it all.
I tried to push him away, but his strength was too great, I couldn't break free at all.
"Look, Carol," Maurice whispered in my ear. "I promise, you're going to feel amazing."
Before I realized what he was going to do, he spread my thighs and kissed my private area. Each touch made me feel like electricity was passing through—that sensation was more intense, more direct, more shameful than the touch of fingers.
The sensation of him kissing there was a hundred times hotter than I imagined—maybe because he had just drunk my blood, maybe because my body was too feverish. Either way, that temperature almost melted me.
It made me want to curl up with shame. I wanted to close my legs, wanted to push him away, wanted to do anything that would make me less exposed, but his hands firmly pressed down my thighs, leaving me unable to move.
"No... stop..." I threw my head back unbearably, the moaning sounds clear in the silent room—those sounds pouring out of my mouth, completely unlike any sound I would make, more like some animal in heat.
He sucked mischievously, making a sticky wet sound that made me want to die of shame, but at the same time made my body crave more, as if calling for more.
Finally, he lifted his head slightly, a trace of my blood still at the corner of his mouth. "Your body is much more honest than your mouth. It's begging me to enter. From a physiological perspective, your body is fully prepared. Moisture, temperature, muscle relaxation—all indicators show you're ready."
This blunt, almost humiliating dirty talk made my whole body burn. He was using that calm, academic tone to say the most obscene things, like delivering a paper, and I was the subject being studied.
He propped himself up and began to remove his last clothes. The movement was slow, as if giving me a chance to admire his body, but I didn't dare look. I closed my eyes, listening to the sound of clothes sliding off.
That mature, muscular body covered me with oppressive force. I could feel his weight, could feel his muscles, could feel that cold aura completely surrounding me.
He grabbed my ankle and pulled me toward him. The movement was rough, completely unlike his usual demeanor, as if he'd finally abandoned all pretense and revealed his most primal desire.
"Don't hide," he sensed I was already resisting, my body instinctively shrinking back, wanting to escape this overly intense sensation.
Instead, he intensified his grip on my waist, making me press against him. His fingers dug into my skin, leaving marks. That force was both painful and exciting.
"Your body is trembling, but here... you obviously like it very much, don't you? Although your reason is resisting, your physiological reactions clearly show that your body is craving this stimulation. This is a completely normal physiological phenomenon during the transformation process."
I bit my lip, turned my face away in shame and anger, my cheeks burning almost to tears, but a strange sense of stimulation surged in my heart.
I tried my best to use the back of my hand to cover my expression, not wanting him to see my current state of debauchery—I didn't want him to see the desire in my eyes, didn't want him to know how much I... how much I wanted all of this.
This was absurd—I was doing this with my professor, I was doing this with the man who had hurt me, I was... I was enjoying it all.
"So beautiful..." He leaned down again, his fangs grinding against my neck, bringing waves of tingling.
He turned my face, forcing me to look at him. Those blue eyes were now tinged with blood red, like sunset, or like a sky soaked in blood.
His other hand was already gripping his swollen penis.
I caught a glimpse of that outline and quickly closed my eyes in fright, but the image was already carved in my mind.
That thick, hot outline pressed against my most secret entrance—although his body was cold, that part was scorching, as if it had gathered all his heat.
I wanted to be filled—this thought suddenly flashed through my mind, making me want to die of shame, but it was true. My body was craving him, calling for him.
When he thrust forward violently, pushing that enormous penis bit by bit deeper into me, I felt like I was being split by an axe, the pain almost making me scream.
What followed was that extreme sense of fulfillment and satisfaction, making my mind go blank—the sensation was too intense, so intense I forgot to breathe, forgot to think, forgot everything.
I thought I would be angry about this violation, but in reality, my trembling arms had already wrapped around his neck, pulling him toward me.
My body was betraying my reason, embracing my enemy.
He kissed my lips again, that kiss deeper and more intense than before, as if he wanted to swallow me whole.
His fingers tightly gripped my waist and began to thrust. The rhythm started slow, as if giving me time to adjust, but soon became faster and harder.
I could feel my body responding to his movements, cooperating with his rhythm, as if we had done this countless times before.
The shame was still there, but it had retreated far away, replaced by a feeling I couldn't describe, a feeling that both terrified and made me crave more.
I was actually doing this with my professor. And I was even... enjoying it.