Chapter Fourteen: Maurice's POV
I stood by the observation window, watching Leah Martinez guide Carol Valodin through the centrifuge operation.
Leah was patient and efficient. The girl's movements were precise, attention completely focused on the task at hand.
The way she absorbed information carried a thirst for knowledge that I'd only seen in truly exceptional minds.
Her adaptation was indeed remarkable.
Twenty minutes ago, she was still tentatively observing, now she was confidently operating the pipette.
Though tension from our earlier conversation still lingered in her shoulders, her hands were steady.
Leah was explaining contamination prevention protocols, pointing at the laminar flow hood.
Carol nodded while listening, asking questions that showed she'd already digested the previous steps and was trying to understand the entire workflow.
I should have felt satisfied at finding such promising talent.
After all, that was the excuse I used for the department.
It was also the answer prepared for those faculty members—those who would question why I chose a sophomore undergraduate for this position.
Her research portfolio was genuinely impressive for her age. She performed excellently in my class.
But I knew what lay beneath these excuses.
I chose Carol Valodin not because of her academic achievements, though those certainly made good cover.
I chose her because of what happened that night outside The Emerald.
Because her blood called to me with an intensity I hadn't experienced in over a hundred years.
Because of the mystery surrounding her very existence.
She was someone I couldn't categorize, someone none of my scientific frameworks could explain.
And this unknown had become an obsession I could barely control.
At this moment, she was bent over the microscope, carefully adjusting the focus.
My attention was drawn to the curve of her neck, to the blood vessels pulsing steadily beneath the skin.
Even from this distance, through glass and air filtration systems, I could still smell a trace of her scent—wild berries and post-rain forest.
Something that shouldn't exist, that my rational mind kept rejecting, but my senses told me was right there.
My fingers gripped the window frame tighter, the metal cool. My throat tightened, craving to taste her blood again.
Less than forty-eight hours ago I'd just fed, yet I still wanted to cross that laboratory and taste her again—to confirm whether that night was real or a hallucination in my mind.
I knew it was real, just as I knew she still remembered.
Though she'd carefully probed me in the hallway, though I admitted nothing, only gave her a vague denial and she retreated.
She was testing me, trying to force me to say something I would never admit.
I deflected her probing with skills honed over the years.
"She's excellent," Leah suddenly appeared beside me, saying. I'd been too focused on Carol to hear her approach.
This lapse was unusual, indicating the girl had distracted me to a dangerous degree.
"Learns quickly, asks questions that hit the mark. I understand why you chose her."
"Her analytical abilities are strong," I said. I continued watching Carol through the glass, but kept my voice professional, emotionless.
"Others only see data, she can see the patterns within."
"Is that all you see?" Leah asked lightly, carefully.
But I heard the concern in her words.
I turned to her with a smile. "What else could there be?"
Leah hesitated, fingers twisting the end of her ponytail. She did this when nervous.
"Professor, I don't want to overstep, but... the way you look at her is very intense. And after what happened in the quad with Seraphina Valodin, people will talk."
"Let them talk," I said dismissively. Though I appreciated her bringing this up privately. "Miss Seraphina will complain to the department head, get no response, and eventually redirect her energy elsewhere."
"Maybe," Leah said, though she didn't sound convinced. "But Carol is very young, Professor. Younger than your usual research assistants. If there's anything... inappropriate in your interest—"
"There is nothing inappropriate," I interrupted, voice taking on an edge that made Leah step back.
I immediately softened my tone. "Sorry. I didn't mean to snap. My interest in Carol Valodin is purely academic. She's just a good research subject, that's all."
This lie was mixed with some truth, so it sounded believable.
Carol was indeed a research opportunity.
Her blood, more concentrated and special than anything I'd drunk in decades.
Why could her blood attract me like that, violating all rules of our species' biology?
Why didn't she have any physical wolf characteristics, yet I could smell wolf scent on her?
These were all scientific questions that needed investigation.
I wanted to possess her, to understand her, to keep her close so I could observe every fascinating detail about her.
This thought was growing stronger.
"Okay," Leah finally said. She still didn't quite believe it, but said nothing more. "I just wanted to make sure we're on the same page. She seems like a good kid. I don't want to see her get hurt."
"I don't intend to hurt her," I said.
This was true, though perhaps not in the way Leah thought. I wouldn't hurt her physically. My plan was much more subtle and complex—I wanted her to slowly depend on me, to feel we were academic partners, to be grateful to me, thereby not seeing the cage I was building for her.
I watched her through the glass a while longer.
Very smart. Very focused. Completely unaware of how dangerous she was. I was about to lose control.
I could feel that urge surging up my throat, like a desperately thirsty person suddenly seeing water.
My fingers itched, wanting to push open that door, wanting to walk behind her, wanting to smell that scent again.
My rationality was yielding bit by bit.
I knew I shouldn't be here, not now. But my body had already leaned forward half an inch.
I had to leave.
I made a casual excuse: "I have a curriculum committee meeting in twenty minutes. Can you continue familiarizing Carol with the procedures?"
"No problem," Leah said, turning back to the lab.
Before the craving could overwhelm my rationality, I forced myself to turn from the window and walk toward the stairwell at the end of the corridor.
Every step was fighting against my own instincts.
As I neared the stairs, my phone vibrated in my jacket pocket.
I pulled out my phone, saw the name on the screen, and frowned—Avery Blackwood, a senior member of the North American Cross-Species Peace Council, responsible for managing wolf affairs.
I wanted to let it go to voicemail, but Avery wasn't the type to call without reason.
Not answering would only make things harder later. I answered on the third ring, keeping my voice low though the corridor was empty.
"Avery. Unexpected to hear from you."
"Maurice. We need to talk. Are you available now?" he said.
I pushed open the stairwell door, confirming no one else was around before answering: "Available. What's the matter?"
"We've received a formal complaint from a wolf pack," Avery said directly. "Alleging vampire attacks on humans. They're demanding an investigation and enforcement of the non-interference clauses in the Peace Accord."