Chapter 4 BEAUTIFUL EYES

I couldn't stop thinking about what Sebastian said on our ride back home after the greeting had ended.

Not the part about blood-that was expected. I'd grown up knowing it was coming.

It was the way he said it. Like he'd already seen what came after, and knew I wouldn't be the same.

I hadn't lived through anything wild yet-not like the turned ones, who had no choice but to feed within hours of being made, or die.

For them, the thirst came like fire-sudden, violent, impossible to ignore.

But for us, the born ones, it was quieter. Slower. A hunger that waited beneath the surface, patient and polite... until it wasn't.

I used to think that made us better. More civilized.

Now, I wasn't so sure.

Sebastian told me he would be there for me when the time came.

He said it casually, like it was nothing. But something in his voice made it feel like a promise.

I barely knew him. And yet, in a way I couldn't explain, I trusted him more than I should have.

Maybe it was the honesty in his eyes. Or maybe it was just easier to trust someone who'd already crossed the line I hadn't.

Getting ready for school didn't feel as heavy as it had previously.

There was a strange calm in knowing someone would be there-someone who understood.

My parents hadn't stopped talking about Sebastian since the visit to the House of Silence.

They were relieved.

Relieved, he went to my school.

Relieved the first person I connected with here was one of us.

To them, it meant safety and stability. A familiar face in unfamiliar territory.

But to me, it felt different. Strange.

I'd never had vampire friends before-not really.

And deep down, I knew Sebastian didn't just want to be a friend. It seemed like he wanted something more.

School was quiet that morning. I didn't really know anyone else yet, except for you, of course.

My first class was French.

I liked French. It was one of the few classes I never skipped.

Every word sounded like a spell-soft, deliberate, and just mysterious enough to make you want to listen.

Madame Lefevre was already writing on the board when I walked in.

The room smelled faintly of old books-and sharply of cologne, layered from different students.

To a human, it might've gone unnoticed. But to me, everything was sharper. Stronger.

Every scent pulled at my attention like color in the dark.

It was my first time in this class, and my eyes scanned for Sebastian, but he wasn't there. I chose a seat near the window-second row, enough light to stay alert.

A boy sat at a desk. I hadn't seen him before.

He didn't look at me, but his presence felt deliberate.

His notebook was already half-filled, his handwriting too neat for someone not to notice.

I glanced at him once. He kept his eyes on the board, but I could tell he knew I was watching.

Not vampire. But not entirely forgettable either.

Madame Lefevre turned from the board and clapped her hands once.

"Today, we begin partner work," her French accent, clean and formal.

"You'll be working in pairs for a short translation assignment. Choose someone near you."

The room shifted-chairs scraping, soft whispers starting.

I didn't move. I didn't know anyone, and no one made an effort to change that.

Her eyes found me, then that boy beside me.

"Noah and Mr. Hale."

I blinked, surprised she knew my name. I'd only just transferred-apparently, she was the kind who memorized her roster, faces, and all.

He finally looked at me.

His skin had a smooth, delicate glassy look-like sunlight had never touched it.

Light gray eyes, sharp and quiet. His smoky brown hair, styled with a hint of natural wave, was like something that sat with both youthful energy and quiet tension.

He wore a dark-colored, long-sleeved shirt-its most notable feature was the logo stamped across the chest-was it a band? Or a brand, hard to tell.

Beaded bracelets on one wrist, and a matching necklace resting at his collarbone. Effortless, like he knew exactly how to be noticed without trying.

He nodded. "Hi, Noah."

The way he said my name-like it wasn't meant for a boy, like it fit me perfectly anyway.

I nodded back. "Okay," I said under my breath.

I pulled my chair closer to his. He adjusted slightly, giving me space.

He looked human.

Smelled like more than just one. His scent curled through my senses, clinging to the back of my throat, pressing against my teeth.

What was this?

Was it attraction? Curiosity?

An urge to feed?

I'd never really felt it before-not like this. Not in full. I wasn't supposed to, not yet. But something in him called to something in me. Deep and hungry.

My fingers twitched slightly on the desk. I curled them into a fist.

Madame Lefevre handed out the assignment sheets, her heels clicking softly across the room.

"Translate the dialogue on page seventy," she said. "Together."

I glanced at him. He was already flipping to the page, calm and focused.

His eyes turned to me. "Do you speak French?" he asked, his tone was casual.

I nodded. "A little. I like the way it sounds."

His gaze was steady, calm, but intense.

"Tu as de beaux yeux," he said, voice low and deliberate.

I swallowed. I knew what it meant, but still made a curious face.

He gave a faint smile. "You have beautiful eyes."

I could say the same. I thought.

I looked away-his words echoed louder than they should've.

I focused on my notebook, willing my hands to stay still.

He noticed-of course he did.

His voice dropped slightly, softer now. "Too much?"

I shook my head, but didn't look at him. "Just unexpected."

There was a pause.

"I meant it," he said. "I don't usually say things just to say them."

That made me glance back. His expression hadn't changed-he was still calm and open.

Before I could think of what to say, Madame Lefevre's voice cut through the moment.

"Noah. Aiden," she called, eyeing us with a smile. "If you're done practicing le flirt, perhaps we can return to le français?"

Laughter fluttered through the room. I felt my face heat up as I sank a little lower in my seat.

He just smiled-unbothered. "Oui, madame," he said smoothly. "Back to business.

And just like that, the moment passed-but it didn't leave. Not really.