4. Nix
Nix
Ikeep my eyes straight ahead as I push open the front door and exit the administration building.
When I make it down the short flight of stairs to the walking path, I don’t run, but I do keep my strides quick as I turn in the direction of my classroom.
My heart was racing before I even stepped out of Jenny’s office. The urge to turn the opposite way down the hall, toward the vampire’s office, was so strong my hands started shaking.
Jenny being there, watching me leave, was probably the only thing that stopped me.
And that terrifies me.
I’m not an Alt chaser. I have a healthy fascination with their kind, especially given my profession and my desire to know everything about everything. But I’m not obsessed.
I’m not.
But… that moment. When he stopped outside the office door. It felt like there was something there. Between us.
I grip the strap of my bag tighter.
Maybe this is a normal reaction to being around a vampire? Maybe everyone feels the pull to them? Maybe our baser instincts can sense the magic they carry within them and we’re drawn to that?
Maybe everyone gets distressingly wet from mere nearness.
Except I can see at least ten students right now, walking between classes, and none of them are staring at the admin building. None of them seem to be drawn that way. They aren’t fighting with their own footsteps. They aren’t acting any sort of way at all.
I adjust the strap over my shoulder and inadvertently drag the material over my painfully pebbled nipple.
My bra and sweater do absolutely nothing to dull the sensation, and my core clenches in response.
Horrified at myself, I have to press my lips together when a moan tries to crawl up my throat.
I drop my gaze to the ground ahead of me, not wanting to accidentally make eye contact with anyone right now.
No one can know that I’m feeling like this.
And loath as I am to admit it, I’m pretty sure I’m the only person here struggling with sudden overwhelming horniness.
This isn’t normal.
What I’m experiencing is not normal.
Something is wrong.
I’ve never felt like this before. Not ever.
But it was the moment I felt those footsteps…
Could it just be the vibrations? Am I that hard up for sexual contact that thundering footsteps were enough?
But no, because when the footsteps stopped, I didn’t just snap out of it. Nope. When he stopped, I felt that pull, a physical pull, to open the door.
Pressing my hand to my chest, I remember the paper cut.
Could he smell my blood?
A shiver that hovers somewhere between lust and fear skitters down my spine.
The path intersects with another, and I take the sharp turn, heading toward the edge of campus.
Maybe I’ve been cursed.
I know people don’t usually use the word magic when they talk about vampires, but from the reports I’ve read as an adult, and the fairy tales I read as a child, what’s a better name for it?
Incredible strength and speed.
Crazy long lifespans.
Ability to heal over and over again.
Every sense performing at a superhero level…
As a journalist, I’ve written stories about Alts, usually centered around some specific event I was hired to cover.
But I’ve also done my due diligence on background research.
And the history of Alt-human interaction that has been credibly confirmed… is dark.
And not because of them. Because of us.
Shortly after The Reveal, when alternate evolutionary outcomes walked out of the woods one day as a group and made themselves known, governments around the world did their best to take them. They kidnapped them and locked them up under the guise of safety.
It was never a believable story, even for the staunchest political supporters. But imprisonment wasn’t the only crime the authorities were committing. There were rumors of medical experimentation.
Testing limits.
Torture.
There were also rumors of Alts that could turn into animals, then back into human form.
Others that could change the shape of the earth beneath their feet.
Rumors that no one can confirm. Except there are a few photos from the day of The Reveal, and some of them looked like normal people.
No horns. Eyes that weren’t all black. So they weren’t vampires.
And there were other photos… of claw marks through metal doors, mounds of dirt where none should be.
All that just gives more questions than answers. But the fact that we still refer to vampires under the umbrella of Alts tells me there’s more out there. More we don’t know.
But along with being highly classified, most of the overall information gathered during those dark days was spotty and unfinished.
Because the operations didn’t go well. For the governments.
It became very clear that we humans didn’t understand our position on the food chain.
We thought we were at the top.
And that assumption was very, very wrong.
Because while we were trying to figure out how to kill them, they proved proficient in killing us.
The payback was swift. Silent. And when authorities went to investigate why their communications weren’t working, they discovered the answer.
No one was left to reply.
In all the dark sites around the world, not a single heart was left beating. And all the holding cells were open and empty. The public has never been given any real information about what happened, but the leaked photos showed empty facilities, leaving us to assume the rest.
The kidnappings, the experiments, the swift end, all took place over a very short span of time and is referred to as The Trials.
Named for the inhumane medical trials and the subsequent courtroom trials, where people in charge, who hadn’t been disappeared, were sentenced for crimes against humanity.
After that, an agreement was made. We leave the Alts in peace; they don’t wipe us from existence.
It was also made clear that we, governments/countries, aren’t allowed to bring egregious harm against one another, or else the Alts will get involved.
Our own government tested that resolve. Once. Committing violence where it shouldn’t have.
Overnight, those in charge of the operation vanished.
And the soldiers who were left on the ground, with no orders to follow, returned home, claiming to have heard and seen nothing.
Since then, there has been a level of nonviolence the world hasn’t witnessed before.
We don’t know exactly how many vampires there are. Every once in a while, one that is unknown to the public is captured on camera. But I’m sure there are many more than we think. Just like I’m sure some of the rumors about others are based in fact. Whether they still exist is the question.
It’s only a matter of time before the current peace is tested again. But for now, the equilibrium remains.
“Whoops, sorry, ma’am.” A student bolts past in front of me, and I skid to a stop.
I lift a hand in apology, sure that was my fault for not paying attention, but the kid is already yards away.
Blowing out a breath, I look up and see Bates Hall just ahead.
No one else crosses my path as I make my way over. There are no steps leading up to the entrance, just a small overhang above, good for the rain that seems imminent.
Through the glass in the double front doors, I can see that the hallway beyond is empty. Grateful for a moment of respite, I pull the door open and step inside.
Pausing, I dig the map out of my bag and triple-check the room number, 3B. Then I find it right where Jenny said I would, halfway down on the right.
The wood door is closed and locked, but like the front door, the top half is fitted with a window looking in.
The lights are off in the lecture hall, and the windows on the opposite wall are covered with slat blinds, but enough murky daylight seeps through to make out the details of the room.
A large wooden desk sits off-center, closer to the windows, with its back to the wall of whiteboards.
While sitting in the leather chair on wheels, I’ll be facing the stadium-style seating that fills the rest of the large room.
Tables and chairs line each level, with a stairway in the center and on either side.
Stuffed to capacity, you could probably fit a couple hundred students in here.
But it should only be about half full for my classes.
My classes.
In this real classroom.
I slide my hand into my pocket and pull out my key.
As I reach to insert it in the lock, I take in my reflection in the glass.
My jeans are snug against my hips and thighs. Like all my pants are.
My maroon sweater is oversized and drapey but still clings to my tits. I’ve tucked the front hem into the waistband of my jeans, giving the outfit some direction while also showing off my not-toned waist.
I’m not a small woman.
At five foot ten, I was taller than most of the boys growing up. And having the genes and metabolism of my grandmother, I was heavier than most of the boys growing up too.
The boys turned into men, and many got taller than me by college. But my shape… curvy, plus size, plump, thick… that’s never changed.
I’ve fought with my body for most of my life.
Gotten clothes in the smallest size I can fit in.
Gotten clothes two sizes too big to hide under.
But over the last few years, I’ve been actively working on self-acceptance.
It was harder than it should’ve been, but now that I’m embracing my body and buying clothes that fit, I feel more confident than I ever have before.
I feel almost… sexy.
And since I’m one day away from being a thirty-year-old virgin, feeling sexy is honestly a feat.
I’ve also been growing my hair out, styling the layers into soft waves, not caring if it’s the best haircut for someone with round cheeks.
I kept it shoulder length for a long time, but several months ago, after my last cut and round of highlights, I decided to let it go for a while.
The lighter parts have faded to a golden bronze, while the roots are the warm brown of my natural tone, matching my dark brows.
My brother had green eyes. They were so vibrant you couldn’t help but look twice. But mine are just… meh. I’ve always found the medium brown boring. Always wanted a different color.
I blink, blurring my reflection.
My eyes are fine. And obviously not changing.
After sliding the key into the handle, I twist the lock and open the door.