Kisses Beneath The Aurora

His lips crashed against hers-hot, demanding, claiming. Melanie gasped into the kiss, clutching the front of his shirt as he lifted her effortlessly onto the table. He stepped between her parted legs, his tongue slipping in to taste her, igniting something wild inside her.

She melted into him, her nerves alight, legs wrapped tightly around his waist. She could feel his heat, the raw strength of his arms anchoring her to him. The intimacy of the moment, the hunger of the kiss, the need in their hearts, it was everything she didn't know she craved. All Melanie could remember was the ache to love... and to be loved.

When they finally pulled away, breathless and dazed, his forehead rested against hers.

"Drexter," she whispered, stroking his cheek. "I'm falling for you. Hard."

But he shook his head, guilt flickering in his eyes.

"Melanie," he breathed. "... I'm the last person you should fall for."

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Hey readers,

First of all, a HUGE welcome to Kisses Beneath The Aurora. Eeeek! I'm doing a happy dance just knowing you've clicked on this story. Seriously, thank you. You being here means the entire world to me. I've carried Melanie and Drexter's story close to my chest for a while, and now? It's finally time to let them loose into the wild... messy kisses, shocking secrets, sizzling tension, heartbreaks, stolen glances, and all the chaos in between!

They're not perfect, far from it. But that's the beauty of it, right? Two imperfect people tangled in a slow-burn whirlwind of mystery, drama, and emotions that sneak up on you when you least expect it. I poured so much love into their journey, and I truly hope their story grabs your heart and refuses to let go.

Now, a quick but important heads up:

This book is R18. It contains:

*A morally grey, dangerous, and deliciously dark hero (Drexter is NOT your typical good guy)

*Twisted choices, messy love triangles, a whole lot of drama. Crime, and violence that blends right into the love story

*Slow-burn, forbidden romance that gets darker, heavier, and hotter as you go

If you're looking for something light and fluffy, this ain't it. And here's something important:

Melanie and Drexter are fictional. Their flaws, their darkness, their choices, this isn't a 'how-to' guide for love. This is a story! So please don't try to emulate them in real life. If you see Drexter's morally grey behaviour and think 'hmm, maybe I should date someone like him,' the answer is a very big NOPE. This is fiction, baby. If you see a frog flying with a cape in here, you'll know it's not real either.

So buckle up, grab your favourite snack, cozy blanket, and maybe a tissue or two (just in case), and oh! Maybe make a little playlist for the vibes, because once you open these pages, you're stepping into Crestmoor Academy, where snow falls heavy, secrets run deep, and under the northern lights...

A dangerous love begins

Welcome to Melanie and Drexter's world. Welcome to Kisses Beneath The Aurora.

Don't forget to:

Vote: Tap that vote button to keep the chapters rolling!

Comment: I read EVERY message (and squeal over your reactions!)

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Your support means EVERYTHING to me. It lights me up like fairy lights on a rainy day. Let's enjoy every twisty turn together

With all the love,

Marshy

"Mom?"

She got no response.

"Mom?"

Still no response.

"Mom?" She called again, softly.

Across from Melanie, her mother barely looked up from her phone call.

"Tell Mr. Thompson to send those documents immediately. I need them now," she snapped, her voice sharp, laced with a thick French accent.

Business again. Always business, Melanie thought, sighing.

Today was supposed to matter. She felt silly for expecting more. But she had hoped for it. Just this once.

She was leaving home, going off to college for the first time. She didn't know what to expect. She didn't even know the rules. She had never even been away from home this long.

She was scared, nervous, and unsure of herself. More than anything, she had wanted her mom to hold her and tell her it would all be okay. To say she believed in her. That she'd miss her.

But of course, that was asking for too much.

Somehow her mother sounded more concerned about business meetings than saying goodbye.

"Mom?"

Her mother barely spared her a glance. She gave Melanie a side-eye, mouthed a quick "Bye," and immediately went back to her phone conversation.

"Bye... mom," Melanie whispered, her voice soft and unsure. She sat there for a second, waiting, hoping for something. A hug or a kiss. Or probably a squeeze on the hand. But nothing came.

Her chest tightened.

She had seen how other mothers acted, teary-eyed, hugging their daughters tightly, fussing over every little thing.

But her own mom couldn't even pause to say goodbye properly. Not even today.

She wasn't going to let her mother ruin her mood today, Melanie told herself. Today was special to her, even if her mother didn't seem to notice. She was finally going to college.

Without another word, she glanced at her mother one last time then quietly got down from the car.

Once the car had driven off, Melanie took a deep breath. Clutching her suitcases in a vice-like grip, she stared in awe at the magnificent school standing before her.

Crestmoor Academy stood tall and proud against the evening sky, its stone walls glowing beneath the last rays of sunlight.

This was a fresh start. A new chapter. That was the idea, anyway.

Melanie had waited years for this moment. She had dreamed about it. Prayed eagerly for it. And now that it was finally here?

She felt so excited and anxious.

Melanie smiled at herself as she gently tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear before stepping in.

The academy grounds stretched wide, paved with cobblestones that gleamed under the soft evening light. Neatly trimmed hedges bordered the walkways, and tall, trees swayed gently in the wind. A large stone fountain stood at the centre.

Students dressed in fashionable outfits moved in every direction, wheeling sleek suitcases and chatting excitedly.

Melanie was so captivated by the school that she didn't notice when her foot caught on a rock. Before she could process what was happening, she stumbled forward with a soft yelp and crashed into someone.

A piercing scream exploded in her ear.

"Get off me, you fucking balloon!"

Melanie gasped and scrambled to her feet, mortified. She adjusted her glasses and froze, her eyes widening in horror.

"I-I-I'm so sorry!" she stammered, locking eyes with the furious girl she'd just crashed into.

A blonde girl sat on the floor, clutching a broken acrylic nail.

"You broke my nail, you bitch!" the girl shrieked.

Melanie stared at her. For a second, her brain struggled to catch up with what had just happened.

"Can't you see, you motherfucker?! THIS," the girl lifted it higher, "was a custom gel set. Limited edition. Baby pink from Milan!"

Melanie's brows furrowed at the insult.

Another girl quickly rushed forward.

"Oh my gosh, Chloe, are you okay? Did it bruise your hand?" she shot a horrified look at Melanie. "What have you done? Weren't you looking where you were going? You broke her nail!"

Melanie flushed crimson. "I'm sorry. I tripped, I didn't mean-"

"Girl, what did you trip on? Your appetite?" the third girl interjected sharply, snickering.

"She said snack attack and went down like Jell-O!" the fourth girl laughed, holding her stomach. "I think I heard the floor crack!"

Chloe sniffed, still nursing her nail. "It's okay girls. Not everyone can be light on their feet. Some of us walk. Others... quake."

The girls erupted into a fit of laughter.

Melanie's ears burned. Her suitcase had toppled during the fall and lay open beside her, one of her bras embarrassingly peeking out. She bent to quickly shove the bra in and zip her suitcase, wishing it could swallow her whole instead.

Great. Absolutely fantastic.

Barely five minutes into Crestmoor Academy and she had somehow managed to become a target to this mean girls.

She pressed her lips together, trying not to look as embarrassed as she felt.

This was definitely not how she imagined her first day of college. Not even close.

The laughter didn't stop quickly. The blonde girl-Chloe, apparently-was still inspecting her nail.

"I could've died, you know," Chloe huffed as she stood up slowly, dusting off her designer skirt. "Do you know how heavy you are? You landed on me like a mattress falling from a fifth-floor window!"

"I-I'm really sorry," Melanie said, softly. "I can help you fix it. Your nail, I mean."

"Fix it?!" Chloe yelled, her eyes narrowing into slits as she crossed her arms over her chest. "How do you think you can fix this?"

"I'm an artist," Melanie spoke with a sheepish smile. "So it'll be easier for me to fix it. I'm really good at painting and drawing. Think about it, um...?"

"Chloe," she responded sharply, glaring daggers at Melanie.

"Yeah! Chloe. If I can paint a perfect sunset, I can paint a perfect nail. And trust me, mine will look better than anything your fancy salon could do."

She beamed at them with her brightest sunshine smile. The four girls just stared at her like she'd grown a second head.

The third girl guffawed. "What are you gonna do, paint her a new nail with watercolor? Sketch her dignity back?"

Students around were starting to stare, a few even giggling at the scene. Melanie could feel herself shrinking.

Chloe stepped closer, and for a second, the laughter softened.

"You should watch where you're going next time," she said sweetly.

But it didn't sound sweet. It sounded like a warning.

"Look, we don't know where you rolled in from, but next time, try watching where your planet-sized feet are going," the second girl sneered.

"Yeah, exactly. Just stay out of our way," said the fourth girl, flipping her hair. "Next time you trip over your own shadow, don't drag us down with you."

The girls laughed, strutting away in perfect formation.

Melanie stood rooted to the spot, heart hammering and breath shaking.

Her hands clenched at her sides, tears threatening behind her eyes, but she blinked fast. She wouldn't cry. Not in front of them.

And definitely not over a broken nail and a broken ego.

Eyes were on Melanie as she reached for her suitcases. Some were whispering, others were giggling.

Her cheeks grew red. She ducked her head low, feeling embarrassed.

What a horrible start, she thought miserably.

Melanie pulled her suitcases close, not wanting to bump into anyone. She kept her gaze low as she walked quietly into the Crestmoor's main building. She walked down the hallway, slower this time, her eyes darting around like she was expecting another disaster to leap out at her. She couldn't shake off the encounter she'd had with those girls. It kept playing over and over in her head like a bad movie she couldn't pause, and with every replay, her jaw clenched tighter.

Those girls were rude.They acted like they were the queens of the hallway.

Her fingers wrapped tighter around her suitcase handle as their voice echoed in her mind, sharp and mocking.

"Not everyone can be light on their feet. Some of us walk. Others... quake."

"Look, we don't know where you rolled in from, but next time, try watching where your planet-sized feet are going,"

At every line, heat rose to her face-not from embarrassment, but pure anger.

"Are they serious?" she whispered. "What even does that mean?"

She scowled at the memory. Those girls were awful, mean, and shallow. And Chloe, the nail drama queen, had acted like losing a single nail was the end of the world.

"Fuck those bitches," Melanie swore under her breath.

She climbed the stairs, each step making her suitcases thump, until she stopped in front of a tall brown door with Admin Office etched in neat silver letters. Her pulse quickened.

She reached for the doorknob, then pulled her hand back. Her chest felt tight. She hated this feeling.

Her hand hovered there. Why was she hesitating?

Her stomach twisted again, annoyingly.

She shook her head, took another deep breath, and reached again... only to pull back once more.

Ugh. Why am I like this?!

"Done meditating?" a voice cut in, deep and sharp.

Melanie jumped so hard she nearly lost her grip on her suitcases. Spinning around, she opened her mouth to say something, but she was rendered speechless by the sight in front of her.

Oh. My. Gosh.

The owner of the voice leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed over his chest.

He was brown-skinned, incredibly tall, well over six feet. His hair-a dark sheen of a raven's wing-fell carelessly across his forehead. The guitar case slung over his back gave him a restless edge.

Melanie's eyes widened a bit when she took notice of the earrings and cufflinks on his ears, and the intricate tattoos on his neck and arms that ran from shoulder to wrist. Her eyes further trailed downwards and noted how his biceps stretched the sleeves of his shirt. The fitted black shirt he wore outlined his broad chest and toned muscular abs.

When Melanie stared a second too long, he scowled.

"You done staring yet, or should I strike a pose?" His tone was sharp and impatient, like her very existence had already inconvenienced him.

Heat crawled up her cheeks, and her brows snapped together. "Hey! I wasn't staring."

"Oh right," he dragged the words out, rolling his eyes with slow sarcasm. "You were just... burning a hole in my shirt with your eyes for fun."

Melanie's mouth opened, ready to fire back, but he was already adjusting his guitar strap, his gaze flicking lazily over her suitcases before landing back on her.

"Next time you wanna gawk, maybe do it faster. Some of us have places to be."

Her eyes narrowed into slits. "Excuse me?"

"Look, I'm not in the mood for small talk with you right now. Could you just move? You're standing in the way," he said gruffly.

Melanie crossed her arms, lips parting in disbelief. "Wow. And here I was thinking you were just grumpy. Turns out you're also rude. Really rude."

He gave a humourless smirk. "And here I was thinking you had better things to do than block doors."

Her glare sharpened, hot enough to burn a hole straight through him. He reminded her of those four mean girls, except this guy wasn't catty or dramatic. He was blunt, unapologetic, and that somehow made it worse.

Melanie's stomach twisted with irritation. First the four witches in the hallway, and now him? Was Crestmoor full of rude, entitled jerks, or had the universe just decided to dump them all on her today?

"Hey! You have no right to talk to a lady like that!" she snapped, her voice rising. "You lack manners, okay? If no one's told you yet, well, I'm telling you now. Not only are you manner less, you are so, so rude!"

Melanie kept on talking, while he just sighed, peeling himself off the wall with infuriating calm.

Tucking his hands into his pockets, he rolled his eyes like she was a buzzing fly he couldn't be bothered to swat. Then, without a word, he shouldered past her and pushed the office door open.

Melanie's jaw dropped. "Hey, I'm not done talking!" she called after him, anger flaring.

But the door clicked shut in her face, cutting her off like she was nothing.

Melanie was beyond mad right now, she was seething in fact.

The nerve of this dude! She hated it. Absolutely hated it.

She groaned inwardly. Of course her day had to start like this. Just why?! Other people's days were probably full of smiles, and small talks. Hers? A train wreck.

She took a steadying breath, reaching for the doorknob again, determined this time. She was going to open it, and walk in.

Except she didn't even get the chance. The door swung open and there he was. Mr. Grumpy himself.

She glared at him with every ounce of resentment she could summon. He, on the other hand, merely arched a perfectly sculpted brow that looked like it had been carved by the gods. And of course, he had to look annoyingly hot while doing it.

They locked eyes. One long, silent standoff. A full minute of pure, unspoken challenge, until he rolled his eyes like she was the ridiculous one, brushed past her, and rammed her arm hard enough to make her wince.

"Hey! Watch it!" she snapped, teeth clenched. Was 'excuse me' not in his vocabulary?

But then again, what could she expect from a guy like him? He was rude, grumpy, and probably so bored of his mundane life that he acted out by being an outright jerk.

No, scratch that.

An asshole. That was what Melanie would call him. A complete, unapologetic asshole.

With a huff, she shoved those thoughts aside and finally stepped into the office.

Behind the desk sat a woman who looked to be in her early thirties. Her glasses perched low on her nose, eyes glued to the computer's screen as her fingers flew across the keyboard.

When she heard footsteps, she looked up and smiled warmly at Melanie.

"Welcome to Crestmoor Academy. How may I help you?"

Melanie returned the smile. "Oh, I'm new. I just wanted to collect my key, and maybe get some other information."

"Of course, no problem. What's your name, dear?" the woman asked politely.

"Melanie Chambers," she replied.

The woman typed quickly, then glanced up.

"Perfect." She handed her a small stack of files. "Here's everything you'll need to get settled, and a few tips for surviving your first week." She reached into a drawer, pulled out a shiny brass key, and slid it across the desk. "Room 165. North Wing. Don't lose it unless you enjoy begging."

Melanie tucked the files under her arm and picked up the key. "Thank you."

"You're welcome dear," said the woman.

Melanie smiled. Since stepping into Crestmoor, this woman was the only genuinely kind person she'd met.

Maybe not everyone here is completely awful after all, she thought, letting herself hope just a little.

When she stepped outside, a cool evening breeze swept past, ruffling her red hair as she made her way toward the girls' dormitory.

A short distance from the dorm, Melanie spotted a familiar face waving excitedly at her. She beamed instantly and hurried over to her sister, Tiffany.

"Hey Melly. I'm so glad you're here. I've missed you so, so much," said Tiffany, grinning as she pulled Melanie into a warm hug.

"I've missed you too, Tiffany," she said.

Tiffany pulled away from the embrace, hands resting on Melanie's shoulders. She immediately noticed how weighed down Melanie looked; two suitcases in her hands and a stack of files awkwardly tucked under her arm. With a gentle smile, she took one of the suitcase from her.

"Here, let me help you," she said softly.

"Thanks."

"Soo, how've you been? How do you like Crestmoor Academy so far?" Tiffany asked with a bright smile as they stepped into the dorm.

"Tiff, this school isn't bad. It's great! But the students here are awful. Not all of them, just the few I've met," Melanie said with a tired sigh.

"Oh, what happened?"

"I had a really bad encounter with some persons," she spoke, her brows furrowing as her mind replayed the earlier incident with those sassy girls and that grumpy asshole.

"Look, I was so captivated by the beauty of this school that I wasn't paying attention. Before I knew it, I tripped over something and crashed into someone. Gosh, the girl whose name was Chloe, I think, acted like her world had just come to an end. Yeah, I broke her manicured nail, which I apologized for! I swear, the world must revolve around her perfectly manicured fingers. And not to speak of, she and her minions were insulting me," Melanie spoke, exasperated.

Tiffany chuckled. "Don't mind them. You'll get used to it. The girls here are ridiculously sassy, so brace yourself, you've only met the first batch."

Melanie groaned, making Tiffany laugh.

"Oh, come on. Just forget about them."

Melanie nodded, her lips pursed. "I tried to, but then it got worse. In the admin office, there was this guy-"

Tiffany's eyes widened instantly, cutting her off. "A guy?"

Melanie sighed. "Yes. Grumpy, rude, and full of himself."

Tiffany leaned closer to Melanie, her grin broadening. "Was he hot?"

"Really Tiffany?" she deadpanned, rolling her eyes.

Tiffany flipped her chestnut hair and said, "What? A girl needs to know if a guy is smoking hot. So answer my question, was he hot?"

The image of the guy flashed in Melanie's mind: his brown skin, dark hair, broad shoulders, and that annoyingly perfect chest. Ugh. Despite hating him so much that she'd love nothing more than to punch his ass, it would be a sin on her part to say he wasn't smoking hot.

"Yeah. He's hot."

"O.M.G. Tell me everything. Tall? Broad shoulders? A smolder?" Tiffany asked, eyes glittering.

"What? Tiffany that's not the point-"

"I bet he's the broody type."

"Definitely. Grumpy too," she replied with a huff.

But Tiffany didn't take her seriously. Instead, she giggled.

"I'm sure he's the kind who leans against the walls like he owns the hallway. Sharp jawline, tattoos maybe? Messy hair that somehow looks perfect..." she fanned herself with her hand. "Mmm, Melly that's the good stuff."

Melanie shot her sister a pointed look. "Um, hello? He literally shoved past me and nearly broke my arm. That guy's a jerk."

"Oh. My. Gosh. Hot and rude? He's totally my type. Me? The most beautiful and popular girl and he? The brooding bad boy. We're a perfect match, Melly!"

"Seriously?" Melanie groaned, dragging a hand down her face. "You're impossible."

"No, no, listen," Tiffany said. "I'm serious. A hot, moody guy who doesn't care what anyone thinks? That's the dream, Melly! Geez, haven't you read it in stories? The guy's hot and always a bad boy and when he eventually falls in love, he could burn the whole world just for his girl."

"Tiffany, that's fantasy. This is reality! The guy I met is fucking rude and pretty looks like someone who wouldn't even lift a finger for his girl, that's if he has one."

"Melly, could you just stop being a buzz kill?"

"Fine, fine. You can get your heart broken like those girls in the stories," Melanie said, already annoyed, wondering why her sister had to be such a hopeless romantic.

"Melly, it's a slow progress. Eventually, we'll fall hard for each other and he will burn the whole universe just to be with me. Isn't that romantic?" Tiffany let out a dreamy sigh as she rested her head on Melanie's shoulder.

Melanie rolled her eyes at Tiffany's statement. Of course her sister would gush over a guy she hadn't even met, classic Tiffany. Always living in that fairytale bubble of hers where every frog had a crown tucked somewhere and every jerk was just one kiss away from becoming Prince Charming.

Annoying? Yes. Surprising? Not at all. This was Tiffany being... well, Tiffany.