Chapter Eighteen: Carol's POV
"Please, sit," he said. "I wanted to discuss your progress on the hybrid genome project and make sure you understand your work."
"Of course, Professor," I managed. "Thank you for taking the time. I know how busy you are."
"Never too busy for my research team," he replied, pulling out a folder from his desk drawer and opening it to reveal what I recognized as the data sheets I'd been compiling over the past two weeks.
"Your sample preparation has been excellent, Carol. Thorough, methodical, with attention to detail that surpasses what I typically see from assistants."
The compliment should have felt good, should have given me some sense of accomplishment.
But instead it sat uneasily in my chest, weighted down by the knowledge of why I was really here—to find proof of what he'd done to me in that alley.
He looked up, those deep blue eyes finding mine with an intensity that made me want to look away, but I forced myself to meet his gaze, trying to appear appropriately humble.
He flipped through a few more pages of data, pointing out statistical anomalies in a low voice, and I explained my handling of each one.
We continued like this for about ten minutes, like any normal professor and assistant.
Until he closed the folder, and outside the window, a sudden gust of wind drove the rain violently against the glass.
"Professor, do you like rainy days?" I asked, then immediately felt foolish for such an inane question.
But Maurice didn't seem to find it odd. If anything, his expression softened slightly.
"Not particularly," he admitted, turning to glance out the window.
"I only accepted the Seattle position because of the collaborative agreement with the St. Claire Medical Research Center. The opportunity to integrate clinical research with academic work was too valuable to pass up, regardless of the climate."
He paused, looking back at me. "I prefer California. Especially the sunshine. And the ocean."
Something suddenly clicked in my mind, a detail I'd been unconsciously noting over the past few weeks without quite bringing it into conscious focus.
I'd seen Maurice crossing campus during the day, walking between buildings in full sunlight.
He wasn't wearing dark sunglasses or a daylight ring—things folklore claimed vampires needed.
The sunlight didn't seem to affect him at all.
I started to doubt myself. Either everything I thought I knew about vampires was wrong, or he wasn't a vampire at all.
No. He had to be—I'd seen it with my own eyes. Those weren't hallucinations.
But then why hadn't he drained me or turned me?
"You're from Seattle, aren't you?" Maurice asked, pulling me from my spiraling thoughts. "A native?"
"Yes," I said, glad for a simple question that required no calculation or subtext. "Born and raised."
He smiled. "You're lucky. I've spent so much of my life moving between institutions that I sometimes envy those who can settle in one place."
"It's... home," I said.
I thought about what home really meant.
Was it the city itself, or Simon and the strange, protective cage he'd built around me here?
Or was it the memories of my murdered father and my human mother?
I was lost in thought.
"Something on your mind?" he asked.
I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry, scrambling for an excuse. "I was just thinking," I began carefully, "about what Leah mentioned the other day. About Hilda."
I watched Maurice's expression to see how he'd react to the mention of his senior research assistant and the complicated dynamics I'd begun to perceive in the laboratory.
His eyebrows rose slightly. "What about Hilda?"
I hesitated, weighing how honest to be. "Hilda is very protective of your research. Of your time. She seems to... feel differently about you."
Maurice was quiet for a moment, his gaze moving to the window.
"Hilda is very talented," he said finally. "We've worked together for seven years. But our relationship is purely professional, nothing personal. She's just very dedicated to her work, which sometimes gets misunderstood."
It was a reasonable explanation.
Before I could say anything, Maurice shifted in his chair, leaning forward slightly, hands clasped on the desk, asking with apparent casualness: "What about you, Carol? You're what, twenty? Smart, driven, clearly going to make your mark in this field. But you don't seem to have a boyfriend, any romantic entanglements to distract you."
I froze.
"I... I'm focused on my studies," I said stiffly. "No time for all that mess."
"Perhaps a wise choice," Maurice said.
The lights flickered once, twice, then went out completely. The office plunged into darkness, lit only by the gray storm light filtering through the windows.
"Power's out," Maurice said. He was still seated behind his desk, his voice calm, as if this were merely a minor inconvenience. "The storm must have taken out a transformer. Let me find my phone—it has a flashlight."
I fumbled through my bag for my phone, fingers encountering wallet, keys, lip balm, notebook, everything except my phone.
The darkness made the office feel smaller, Maurice's presence somehow closer, and my heart was racing.
"Found it." I gripped my phone, about to turn on the flashlight when my fingers brushed something else—cold skin. I jerked back, nearly dropping the phone.
Maurice had somehow come around the desk and was standing beside me. I hadn't heard him move at all.
He didn't step back. I sensed him shift, turning to face me. In the darkness, my other senses became hypersensitive: I smelled his cologne, heard his steady breathing, but felt no body heat.
Normal people couldn't have no body heat. Once again, my suspicions were confirmed.
He was too close.
"Sorry," he said softly. "Didn't mean to startle you. I was just going to suggest we move closer to the window—the light's better there."
I could barely breathe.
That fear rose up again—from the alley, from the rainy night, from when I'd struggled but couldn't push away that hand.
In that moment I couldn't move, couldn't speak, just stood there frozen in the darkness with Maurice St. Claire.
He was so close, could touch me, could hurt me, if he chose—
He stepped back.
I heard him move toward the window. "That's better." He turned on his phone's flashlight, the beam illuminating his face—calm, as if nothing had happened.
"We should call it a day." Something was off in his voice. "Most of the equipment won't work without power anyway. No point continuing."
"Okay." I agreed too quickly, wanting nothing more than to leave this place, to get away from Maurice, to escape what had happened in the darkness.
We walked out of the office, through the dark corridors, and when we emerged from the building—
Leon was standing at the entrance, rainwater streaming off his jacket.
He must have been waiting outside for a while—Simon's paranoid protocols, requiring him to always know where I was, always ready to extract me.
"Mr. Volkov sent me to escort you home," Leon said, his eyes flicking briefly to Maurice. "The storm is expected to intensify, and he was concerned about you walking in it."
Maurice had followed me to the entrance, standing a few feet away, watching us.
"That's very thoughtful," Maurice said before I could respond. "Mr. Volkov, you said? Is that your—"
He paused, seeming to search for the right word. "—guardian? Family friend?"
"He's..." I hesitated, uncertain how to characterize Simon without inviting more questions, without revealing the complicated web that bound us together.
"He's family. He looks after me."
"How fortunate," Maurice said. His tone was pleasant, but underneath there was something else—I couldn't tell if it was genuine or mockery. "To have someone so concerned with your welfare. These are dangerous times, after all. A young woman navigating the world alone faces so many challenges."
He said it lightly, conversationally.
But I caught the implication underneath—that he knew or suspected something about Simon, about the nature of the protection I lived under, about the fact that my life wasn't nearly as ordinary as I pretended on campus.
Leon's expression didn't change, but I saw something flicker in his eyes. He understood that Maurice's words were more than simple pleasantries.
"I should go," I said again, more firmly this time, pulling my jacket tighter in preparation for the sprint to Leon's car. "Thank you for the meeting, Professor. I'll see you after the holiday."
The rain hit my face within seconds, soaking through my clothes despite Leon's attempt to shield me with his jacket.
I gasped, inhaling sharply.
Leon used his jacket to block some of the rain for me, but it didn't help much.
The car was warm and dry and reassuring. The scent of the leather seats, Leon's familiar presence—these comforting things pulled me back into a safer reality, away from the suffocating atmosphere of Maurice's office.
I sank into the back seat and closed my eyes. The sound of rain on the roof, Leon driving steadily.
When I opened my eyes, the car was already turning onto the long driveway leading to Duskfall Manor. I saw warm light glowing from the windows—the place Simon had built to protect his people.
"Thank you," I gathered my bag, preparing to dash inside. "Thank you for coming to get me."
He nodded. "Mr. Volkov would like to see you once you've settled in. He's in his study."
"I'll change first," I said.
The manor was quiet. I went upstairs to my room, changed out of my wet clothes into dry jeans and a sweater, and toweled off my hair.
A knock came at the door. I opened it—not Simon, but Samuel.
"Miss Carol," he said in that gentle, formal tone. "Mr. Volkov has urgent business to attend to. He said he'll speak with you later this evening."
I nodded, feeling oddly conflicted.
On one hand, relief—not having to immediately face Simon's questions, not having to explain today's events, not having to tell him whether I'd put myself in more danger.
On the other hand... I couldn't quite name it. A kind of disappointment I didn't want to examine too closely.
"Thank you, Samuel," I managed a smile. "That's fine. I have homework to do anyway."
Samuel turned and left, leaving me alone.
I stood there for a while, watching the rain stream down the glass, thinking about the questions Maurice had asked me in the darkness.
Why didn't I have a boyfriend? Why had I spent the past eight years avoiding this? Keeping people at a distance, spending all my time on studying and training, never touching anything that required emotional investment?
The simple answer was that Simon's control made dating impossible. Someone was always watching, you always had to report where you were going, Leon or Marcus would show up at any moment, scrutinizing anyone who showed interest in you. But the truth was more complicated.
The truth was that ever since that rainy night, I couldn't let anyone close to me anymore.
Maurice had shown me one thing: no matter how much you struggled, it was useless.
A person could easily take away your resistance, turn you into a helpless prey.
I could still pretend to be normal for a few hours. At least until Simon finished his Alpha business and sat down to talk with me.