Page 3

The East Coastline Campus was huge. Way bigger than I’d expected. I didn’t know where any of the buildings were, let alone the computer science department. Turns out, classes weren’t all in one place but scattered all over the campus.

My plan was pretty simple—at least in theory. Two lectures were happening in the main building. One was ending in fifteen minutes and the other in about an hour. Then there were a bunch of classes in three separate buildings, but a couple ended too soon for me to even get there. The rest finished in about half an hour—at the exact same time. Bad luck.

But as I stared at the campus map, an idea started to form. If I positioned myself just right, I could catch one group leaving, then sprint about 100 yards and catch the second group. Theoretically.

The problem was: I had no idea whether Damien was even in class right now. If he wasn’t—if he’d already finished and gone to grab lunch—I’d miss him completely. That gave me another lead, though: the cafeterias. The campus had several of them. Not ideal, but I had to start somewhere. The main building seemed like the best bet.

I kept looking around nervously, hoping I didn’t stick out too much, despite my tall frame.

The height alone didn’t necessarily suggest I was a purple.

Almost all alphas were exclusively above 6’4’’—it was in our genetics—but many were even taller, around 6’6’’ and up. A few were close to 7’, so I could somewhat blend in. And even though I was about to turn 25 in a few months, I could still pass for a student, looks-wise.

Still, the fact that I didn’t feel like a student anymore made me hyperaware of people’s stares.

Then I got to the information desk, the attendant raised an eyebrow but pointed me to the room I was looking for. Climbing the stairs, I could feel my pulse picking up. Damien didn’t know what I looked like, which was comforting in a way. If I spotted him, and he was with someone, I could just walk away.

The lecture ended, and students started flooding out of the room. I scanned the crowd, looking for Damien’s fiery, amaranth-red hair. Nothing. Part of me felt disappointed, but the other part was honestly relieved.

Next up were two buildings with classes ending at the same time. I found a spot where I could watch students leaving both. The doors opened, and people poured out. But from this distance, it was impossible to tell who was who—especially with some students wearing caps. And the crowd was huge, scattering in all directions. I squinted, hoping to see him, but no luck. Maybe he was hidden somewhere among them.

I wasn’t ready to give up yet, though. The last class was wrapping up soon. I rushed over and waited for the students to come out, but with the same result—no Damien.

Frustration started gnawing at me. What was I even doing? But then it hit me again: if he wasn’t in class, maybe he was at a cafeteria. I might’ve missed him earlier in the crowd. The closest one was near the main building, and it had the weirdest name: Fate . It felt oddly symbolic.

I headed there, eventually even breaking into a light run. The cafeteria was spacious and packed with students, but as I scanned the tables, my eyes zeroed in on a spot by the window.

Sunlight hit a reddish-pink head of hair, almost glowing.

Damien.

My heart jumped into my throat. I felt a weird mix of relief and panic. So I found him—what now? He was sitting with a group—two omegas, two betas, and one alpha. They were chatting and laughing, but Damien looked quiet. He was hunched over his tray, picking at his food and sipping soda like he was somewhere else entirely.

The line moved forward, and I grabbed a coffee, trying to buy some time. With my cup in hand, I found a spot at a nearby table with a couple of betas.

"Mind if I sit here?" I asked casually.

They nodded, so I sat down, angling myself so I could see Damien without being obvious.

He looked smaller than I remembered, like the green hoodie and black jeans were swallowing him. His posture was slouched, and he barely reacted when one of the betas in his group, a guy in a T-shirt with a big pug head printed on it, said something to him. It made my stomach twist. Was this my fault? Did I make him feel like this by turning him down?

I watched him quietly, hoping he’d look up, maybe spot me. At one point, he did glance around the room. My heart jumped, but his gaze skimmed right over me. A few minutes later, he looked up again, and this time, I noticed something in his expression—like he was restless or distracted.

Finally, his eyes landed on my table. My breath caught. For a split second, I thought he saw me. But then he looked down again, like nothing had happened.

The group eventually finished eating, got up, and returned their trays. I followed at a distance, trying not to seem like a stalker. They headed toward the main building, probably for their next class.

I still had no clue what I was going to do. Walk up to him in front of his friends? That felt like a terrible idea—awkward for both of us. Hey, I’m the guy who fucked you wearing a mask! Don’t mind I stalk you in your school? Sounded just like a line happening every day all over campuses.

When they went into a classroom, I hung back. But when I peeked inside, I stopped breathing. Damien wasn’t there! My heart started racing. Where did he go? The dean’s office? Another class? Did he ditch entirely?

Then I noticed a sign for the restrooms.

My feet moved before I could think. I pushed the door open, and… there he was—standing at the sink, washing his hands.

My pulse was in overdrive. I had maybe five seconds before he walked out.

"Hey, Damien," I said, my voice soft but clear.

He froze, then turned toward me. His eyebrows knit together, and for a second, he looked confused. But then it clicked. Maybe it was my height, or perhaps my eyes, which had been visible through the slits in my ski mask during our previous encounter. His expression shifted from confusion to shock.

Then… it turned guarded. He clenched his hands into fists, blinked, and swallowed hard.

"Is it you?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah, it’s me," I answered, trying to sound calm. "Look, if you want me to leave, I will. I just—I wanted to explain why I turned you down."

He stared at me, wide-eyed.

"I need you to know that I’m not rejecting you—just the idea of handling this through the company, making it transactional. I don’t want you to pay for something so intimate. I couldn’t say this to the company owner to relay to you because it’s against their rules, so I had to tell you in person. But I’m open to spending this time with you, outside of Dark Dreams, just privately. No money, no business. Just… a normal heat."

"Did you follow me?"

I sighed. "Yeah, I did. All I knew was that you were a student, so I took a chance and came to the nearest college. It probably looks like stalking, but I had no other way to contact you. And I didn’t want to show up at your house unannounced. At least here, it’s a public place," I explained, wincing.

The silence felt heavy, and the bathroom suddenly seemed smaller, almost claustrophobic.

"Sorry for that, but I just needed to explain myself so you wouldn’t feel rejected for the wrong reasons."

Damien didn’t respond right away, but I could sense bitterness—or maybe irritation. Was it because I’d overstepped and put him in an awkward spot? Or for some other reason? At the same time, I congratulated myself for not going straight to his home. That would’ve been way worse.

Then he coughed slightly and straightened his shoulders a bit.

"So… this would be on your personal time?" he asked slowly, sounding cautious.

"Yes, of course."

"Why?" His voice was neutral, but there was something deeper there.

I paused, caught off guard. "Because… I want to do this with you."

Damien lowered his head, looking as if he were thinking very hard about something.

Not knowing what else to say, I shifted awkwardly and glanced at my phone. My time was running out. I had already spent a few hours on campus—I had to leave soon for a meeting with Mr. Ragu.

"Damien, I have to go. I’ve got a job interview, and I don’t want to be late. But could I get your number? You don’t have to decide anything now; just let me know when you’re ready—if you’re ready."

Damien hesitated, then nodded. He pulled out his phone and gave me his number. I dialed it right away, and the sound of his phone ringing in his hand made me take a deep breath of relief.

"I’ll wait for your decision," I said softly. "And I promise, if you choose not to contact me, I won’t bother you again. You’re safe from me. I’m not a stalker," I added with a rueful smile.

But when I turned to leave, he called out after me.

"Are you looking for a new job?"

"Yeah."

"Why? What’s wrong with this one?" His voice was quiet, almost inaudible.

I clenched my jaw, feeling a bit exposed. "Your commission made me realize I don’t want to have sex with clients."

His lips curled bitterly. He clearly didn’t take it the way I intended.

"Was I that bad? Repulsive?"

"Gosh, no! How could you even think that? It’s… the other way around. I’m just not built for casual things. I want… something real. This job was never meant to be permanent anyway. I had a lot of debt because of my ex-husband and needed quick and big money. That’s all," I said with a shrug, giving him a tentative smile.

"What kind of job are you looking for?" His tone sounded casual, but there was this strange intensity behind it, like he genuinely wanted to know.

"I used to work as a client assistant at a matchmaking agency, but I had to leave… for various reasons. I have something like a job interview there today. Hopefully, I’ll get rehired."

"Are you still in debt?"

"Yes, but I have only two last installments to pay, and then I’m free."

"Then why resign now? Do you have the money to pay it off?"

His line of questioning was somewhat peculiar. Why did he even care about it?

"I don’t, but I can’t stay at Dark Dreams anymore. My boss is trying to force me to take another commission—and it would involve sex again. I don’t want to do it. The guy’s fascinated by me being a purple. I’m just… tired of being seen only as that."

Damien stared at me for a long moment before suddenly blurting out, "I kinda know what you mean. I’m seen a certain way too, because I’m a Lowen."

"Yes, being different, in any way… can be a nuisance."

He averted his gaze. His eyes landed on the mirror next to us and met mine there, in the reflection.

"The bonus money I sent you… would it cover your debt?" he asked, circling back to the previous topic.

"It would."

"But you returned it."

"I did. And I’m not taking money from you, so let’s not even go there. I want this to be normal. Because we both want it. Not for any other reason."

His eyes bored into me intensely. Then, suddenly, he muttered, looking downright uncomfortable, "It’s good you’re quitting Dark Dreams. This kind of controversial job could make some people… jealous."

What was he implying? Did he mean he’d be jealous if we were together? Or was it just a general observation?

I shrugged. "No idea what that would look like. No one's ever been jealous of me."

"You were married. I’m sure he was jealous."

"Nope. I was his trophy husband, entertainment. I never had… normalcy. It’s just not in the cards for freaks." I winced a little.

We just stared at each other for a moment.

It probably sounded pathetic, like I wanted him to feel sorry for me, but I just needed him to understand me better. Those short sentences were a glimpse into my life—enough for him to decide if he wanted to try something with me. I came with baggage, and he deserved to know it. I wasn’t just a typical alpha; his life would never be the same with me by his side.

"Is it really like that for you? People… see you as a freak?" he asked so softly I barely heard him.

"Well, I’m not like you, Damien," I muttered. "People can usually tell at first glance that I’m a purple, especially when I’m not wearing gloves. Your nature is more hidden. I’m viewed simply as a monster."

Damien was quiet, just looking at me. It was only now, in the daylight, that I noticed the true color of his irises. They were dark sapphire mixed with graphite—so unusual. His light freckles were amaranth-colored… really striking. Not wanting to stare too much, I glanced at the mirror.

"You don’t seem like a monster to me."

"But I am, Damien. When I change."

A brief pause, during which I could hear his slightly uneven breath.

"No man can be your equal."

I tilted my head. "Quoting some old songs?"

Damien suddenly giggled, the sound pleasant and melodious.

"I have inside me blood of kings, I have no rival, no man can be my equal…" I hummed, and Damien joined in, "Born to be kings, princes of the universe…"

We both chuckled.

"That’s correct! We will one day rule over them," he said, winking with a crooked smile.

I smirked back. "Yeah, there are more and more of us in every generation. The genes are cumulative. Aliens are coming!" I added with a matching wink.

For a few seconds, there was this pleasant, light energy between us, and I wished it would last longer. But suddenly Damien got serious again and frowned.

He looked at the mirror, which had become the place we both gazed when we wanted to change the subject. I almost physically sensed a shift in his energy, becoming distant and kind of dejected again.

In the reflection, we made quite a contrast—me, tall and athletic, and him, shorter, soft, and a bit rounded. His unusual amaranth hair framed his face, giving his skin a pinkish hue, while my burgundy hair had a faint purple sheen in the light.

It was strangely pleasant just to be near him, even with him having this slightly unsure and bashful expression—the whole feeling of his body close to mine, the energy floating between us. I had this urge to reach out and stroke his shoulder, touch his curls, pull him close, kiss those amaranth freckles all over his sweet body, not just on his face. But I had to shake myself out of it.

"A real purple alpha," he whispered, as if he still wasn’t completely believing it. "So rare… I’ve only met a few in person, but never anyone close to my age."

"I’ve never met a rose omega… I mean, knowingly. And I’ve certainly never had sex with one."

Damien blinked in surprise. "You haven’t?"

"No. You’re my first rose omega."

He wrinkled his nose. "Hard to believe."

"Do you sense I’m lying?"

He blinked again and swallowed. The question was loaded. I could feel him—almost as if he were embedded deep in my cells. But could he feel me too? And what would it mean if he did?

Damien’s face shifted slightly—becoming uneasy, confused.

"I sense… you’re telling the truth."

"All I’ve ever told you was the truth. I’ve never lied to you, not even once."

"All those compliments… they weren’t scripted?"

"Nope. They’re what I feel," I whispered, taking a small step toward him.

Damien raised his head, and our eyes locked. Slowly, giving him time to react, I lifted my hand and gently brushed his cheek, tracing the edge of his rose birthmark. His skin felt like electricity, and we both shivered slightly. Damien closed his eyes, his lips parting as he let out a small breath. I was so close to leaning in to kiss him. But I knew better.

Before it became too awkward, I moved my hand away. It wouldn’t be smart to initiate anything without knowing what his decision was.

Damien’s face remained fairly calm, though slightly pink. But what really stopped me was that I could still feel his caution and hesitation—a kind of inner resistance. He slowly opened his eyes. I waited, giving him space to say something, but he stayed silent.

Finally, I just whispered, "Well, take care. If you decide, you’ve got my number. And if not, thanks anyway for… the best sex of my life."

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but then he frowned and lowered his head, his energy changing even more, becoming more guarded, almost stern. I smiled ruefully and quickly left the bathroom, my heart pounding.

Well, I did it.

I reached out to him, gave both of us a chance to see if there was more here to explore than just amazing sex. Now the ball was in his court. I promised myself I wouldn’t try to see him again if he didn’t text me. I felt his tentativeness and unease all too well. For whatever reason, he didn’t agree to spend heat with me, and I could only guess why.

And the guessing process wasn’t a pleasant thing.

I just had the strong feeling I came to him… too late.

***