Chapter 2 The Man With Glacier Eyes

The first week passed in a quiet blur.

Aurora kept her head down and her schedule full. Her classes were intense, especially since she'd arrived halfway through the semester, but the structure gave her something to cling to. Something that dulled the pain that still echoed in her chest. She woke up early, made it to every lecture, and wandered the campus alone during her breaks - the old stone pathways and ivy-covered walls gave her a strange sense of peace.

Most students seemed too loud, too fast, like they were racing through life without looking back. She envied them.

But there was one who slowed down long enough to notice her.

"Hey, you dropped this," a soft voice said on Tuesday afternoon, just after Literature.

Aurora turned, surprised to see a girl with warm amber skin, sleek black braids tied in a high ponytail, and a piercing on the right side of her nose. She was holding out Aurora's student ID.

"Oh," Aurora said quickly, taking it. "Thank you."

"No problem," the girl smiled, tilting her head. "You're new, right? I saw you in Dr. Keats' class yesterday."

Aurora nodded, clutching her ID. "Yeah. I just transferred."

"Cool. I'm Calla, by the way. I'm in Linguistics, but I take a few core classes with the Lit crowd." She extended her hand, her black-painted nails catching the sun.

"Aurora."

"That's a pretty name. Kind of dramatic, in a 'main character' sort of way."

Aurora blinked, then laughed. It was the first time in weeks that she had.

They sat together in the courtyard later that day, sipping cheap coffee and talking about professors, dorm showers, and the insane price of campus food. Aurora learned Calla had an older brother who worked in the city's government, that she hated small talk, and that she had a secret obsession with crime documentaries.

By the end of the week, Calla was the closest thing Aurora had to a lifeline.

But everything shifted on Friday.

It was her last class of the day - Modern Myth & Folklore - and it was held in an older lecture hall on the edge of campus. Aurora was almost late, her hands full of notes, hair wind-tossed and loose around her shoulders. She wore a soft beige knit top that hugged her frame and a pleated brown skirt that fell just past mid-thigh, paired with ankle boots. The cold had kissed her cheeks pink, and her eyes seemed even more golden than usual.

She slipped into a seat near the back just as the door closed.

Then he walked in.

At first, she thought he was a guest speaker. No one she'd seen yet looked like that.

Tall, with long legs encased in tailored charcoal slacks, his black button-down sleeves rolled up just below his elbows, revealing lean forearms veined with tension. His hair was dark brown, almost black, and slightly tousled as if he'd just run a hand through it. Sharp cheekbones, a strong jaw dusted lightly with stubble, and lips that were both stern and sensual.

But it was his eyes that pinned her in place - pale, glacier-blue and arresting, as if they could see straight through bone and memory.

"Good afternoon," he said, his voice a low, silken baritone that settled deep into Aurora's skin. "I'm Professor Lucien Dusk. I'll be taking over this course for the rest of the semester."

A few girls near the front adjusted their posture. Someone giggled. But Aurora couldn't breathe.

He looked young for a professor - maybe twenty-seven at most - but there was something in the way he moved that made her think of someone much older. Controlled. Powerful. Dangerous, but not careless.

As he turned to write something on the board, Aurora felt it again. A pull.

It wasn't like the stories she'd read in books about heartbeats skipping or fireworks behind the eyes. This was lower. Deeper. Like her body had recognized him before her mind could make sense of it.

Her thighs pressed together instinctively.

Lucien taught like a man who didn't care if people were impressed. His voice remained calm, never raised, but the room was silent. He asked questions that demanded more than memorized answers, and when his gaze swept across the room, it lingered just long enough to feel like a touch.

At one point, it landed on her.

Just for a moment.

But it was enough to steal the air from her lungs.

When class ended, she stayed frozen in her seat while students filed out. Lucien remained by the desk, adjusting papers, seemingly unaffected.

Her heart hammered.

She didn't speak to him. Couldn't.

But as she walked past him toward the door, she swore she felt his eyes on her back.

Not casual. Not curious.

Hungry.