Music recommendation —Blinding lights by The Weekend.
(Rachelle's POV)
The soft glow of morning sunlight crept through the blinds, falling across my face like liquid gold. For a moment, I stayed still—half lost between sleep and wakefulness—listening to the faint hum of campus life outside. The distant laughter. The echo of running feet. The promise of a new beginning.
When I finally opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was the girl on the opposite bed—my new roommate Zara—sitting cross-legged in a loose tee, her long dark curls a beautiful mess, brushing through them absentmindedly while humming to a pop song Anti-hero by Taylor Swift.
"You're awake," she said, flashing me a grin. "I was starting to think you could sleep through an earthquake."
I laughed softly, rubbing my eyes. "Guess I was more tired than I thought."
"First night away from home, huh?" she teased, hopping off her bed. "Don't worry, it gets better. Or we just get too tired to care."
I sat up, stretching. "I don't know. It already feels… different. Like something's about to happen."
Zara gave me a mock-suspicious look. "You sound like one of those mystical fortune-cookie quotes. 'Something's about to happen.' What, like fate?"
"Maybe." I smiled faintly, though even I didn't know why I said that. There was just this feeling—a faint pull inside my chest that hadn't gone away since yesterday.....since I met 'that guy'.
Zara shrugged. "Well, fate or not, we've got to meet with the head of academics this morning. So if fate doesn't hand us breakfast, I'm eating your granola bar."
"Hey!" I laughed, throwing a pillow at her. She dodged effortlessly and darted toward the closet.
We spent the next hour getting ready, chatting about majors and schedules as we dressed. Zara had declared herself a psychology major—"Because I like figuring out why people do dumb things," she said proudly—and when she asked what mine was, I hesitated only a second before answering.
"English Literature," I said. "I love stories. The way words can make you feel something real."
"That's deep." She smirked. "Okay, so when I'm analyzing serial killers, you'll be writing poetry about them."
I rolled my eyes. "Exactly. But why serial killers though?"
"Because they're the most complex, complicated people you'd ever come across." Zara said while trying to sound mysterious.
When we finally stepped out of the dorm, the air was cool and sharp, carrying the earthy scent of wet grass. The campus looked like something out of a movie—wide lawns, old stone buildings with ivy climbing their walls, and morning sunlight glinting off tall glass windows.
Honestly, viewing the university by evening and by morning will give you two different feelings.
Students hurried past us, clutching coffee cups and folders.
"Westvale University," Zara said dramatically, adjusting her sunglasses. "Land of sleep deprivation and overpriced coffee."
I grinned. "You make it sound so magical."
"Oh, it's magical," she said. "Just in a soul-draining way."
"Honestly You should have chosen literature as your major instead of serial killers. With the way you talk, you could write a poem about the school." I told Zara, and she looked at me as if I just said something priceless.
"You know....I just might."
We reached the Administration Building, the same place I met the growling demigod. I don't know why I keep on thinking about him—its a grand, Gothic-style structure with tall columns and stained glass panels.
Inside, the lobby was filled with chatter and the rhythmic sound of printers. After a few minutes of waiting in line, a kind-looking woman with silver hair and small glasses beckoned us into her office.
"Good morning," she greeted warmly. "You must be Miss Monroe and Miss Bennett. I'm Dr. Evelyn Cross, Head of Academic Affairs. Welcome to Westvale."
Her voice carried the sort of calm authority that immediately demanded respect. She handed us each a folder with our semester schedules, a map of the campus, and an ID form.
"Your classes begin officially next Monday," she said. "Orientation is tomorrow. Make sure to attend—attendance counts for credit."
Zara nodded politely, though her eyes were already scanning the paper like she was deciphering ancient runes. I bit back a smile.
"Thank you, Dr. Cross," I said. "We really appreciate it."
Dr. Cross gave me a knowing smile, her eyes fixed on me. I felt unnerved by it. "How are you settling in the university miss Monroe? Hope it's to your liking?" She asked me in particular. I was quite surprised at that but thinking the question meant no harm I answers her truthfully.
"I am Dr cross. Westvale is beautiful. I have a feeling that I'll like it here "
She smiled at me, "Yes I also have the feeling you will. You'll do well here, Miss Monroe. I can tell."
I didn't know why, but her words made my chest tighten a little.
Outside, Zara groaned dramatically. "Eight a.m. Literature class? Who did I offend in a past life?"
"You'll survive," I said, tucking the folder into my bag.
"Oh look, eternal optimism," she muttered. "I give it a week."
I was about to reply when someone called my name from behind.
"Rachelle?"
I turned, blinking—and froze.
Standing a few feet away was a face I hadn't seen in over a year. Tall, slightly messy brown hair, green eyes that still carried that mischievous spark—Liam Hayes.
"Liam?" My voice came out in disbelief.
He grinned, stepping closer. "Wow, you actually remember me. I wasn't sure you would, what with your brain being buried in books all the time."
"Oh please," I laughed, shaking my head. "And you were the one always getting detention for skipping class."
"And still graduated," he said proudly.
"Guess who's now officially a Computer Science major?"
Zara leaned in, whispering near my ear, "He's cute. Is he single? Asking for a friend."
I gave her a subtle nudge and turned back to Liam. "It's really good to see you. I didn't know you got into Westvale."
"Yeah, got lucky," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I didn't know that I'd make the cut and actually get in. Who knows, maybe fate's trying to tell us something."
I chuckled, ignoring the faint flutter in my stomach. "You and fate again. Everyone keeps saying that today."
"Maybe it's true." He grinned. "Anyway, we should hang out sometime. Catch up properly?"
"Sure," I said before I could overthink it. "That'd be nice."
"Can I like...get your number, so it'd be easier to talk and chat."
"Sure why not." I gave liam my cellphone number and he told me that he will call me later tonight and left to join his new friends.
After he left, Zara raised a brow. "Girl, he was totally flirting with you."
I rolled my eyes. "He's just being friendly."
"Uh-huh. And I'm the Queen of Westvale. Don't tell me you two had a thing for each other during your high school days."
"Well....I don't know for him. But yeah in highschool, he was the golden boy there. Lots if girls had a crush on him. And.....yeah I was one of them. Though not among the fan girls." Zara started laughing when she heard that. I felt mortified by that, and she relished in my misery.
We walked down the tree-lined path leading back toward the dorms, laughter mingling with the hum of conversation around us. But halfway there, I suddenly… stopped.
The sound of the world seemed to fade, like someone had turned the volume down. The air grew thicker, heavier—almost electric. A shiver ran through me, unprovoked.
"Rachelle?" Zara asked, noticing I'd frozen mid-step.
I turned slowly, scanning the crowd. Students passed by, chatting, laughing. A couple walked hand in hand. Nothing out of the ordinary. And yet—it felt like someone's watching me.
The thought came unbidden, sharp and certain. My pulse quickened. I looked again—across the green courtyard, past the line of parked cars—but saw no one. Just sunlight and shadows.
"Hey," Zara said, touching my arm. "You okay?"
"Yeah," I murmured. "Just… I don't know. Thought I saw someone."
I forced a smile and shook my head, trying to dispel the tension curling in my gut. "It's nothing."
But even as we kept walking, I couldn't shake it—the strange, magnetic awareness. Like invisible eyes tracing every step I took.
And somewhere beyond the crowd, sitting in a sleek black car parked beneath an old oak tree, Cole Williams gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. His gaze followed her as she disappeared into the dorm building, her laughter fading.
His chest rose and fell with effort. His wolf was restless, pressing against his control.
When she'd stopped and turned, her wide brown eyes scanning the path—he'd felt it...felt her..... The connection.
The imprint bond humming in the air between them like static before lightning.
For a fleeting moment, his restraint cracked, and his pupils flared a deep, molten red, glowing faintly beneath the dim interior of the car.
"Mine," he whispered under his breath, voice rough with longing.
But then he forced himself to look away, to start the engine and drive off before instinct won over reason.
Because she wasn't ready yet.
And the last thing he wanted was to scare her—even if every part of him already belonged to her.