I was three seconds from dropping out of college
when I got bit.
Not by a raccoon. Not even a mosquito.
By a vampire.
In a suit.
He looked like he belonged on the cover of Forbe
s, not lurking behind a dumpster in the campus p
arking lot.
“Don’t scream,” he said, voice low and velvetdan
gerous.
I screamed.
He sighed, like I’d ruined his playlist.
Then he bit me.
It wasn’t like the movies. No sparkles. No sexy
gasping. Just cold fangs and warm blood and a we
ird urge to ask him if he’d considered therapy.
Instead, I slapped him.
He blinked, like I was the surprise.
“I’m not supposed to like you,” he muttered.
“Trust me, the feeling’s mutual.”
That’s when the prophecy hit.
Literally.
A scroll exploded out of my backpack, glowing li
ke a cursed Amazon package.
“Fated mates,” he read aloud, horrified.
I snorted. “Not a chance.”
But the scroll didn’t care. It hovered in the ai
r, glowing like it was waiting for us to hold ha
nds and cry happy tears.
I was not here for this.
I was here to major in economics and minor in su
rvival.
Vampires were not in the syllabus.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“Lucian D’Morte,” he said like it meant somethin
g.
It didn’t.
“Should I know that name?”
He looked offended. “I own Manhattan.”
“Cool story, Bela Lugosi.”
He narrowed his eyes. I could’ve sworn his fangs
got longer.
“You’re the one,” he said grimly. “The prophecy
said you’d have fire. And sarcasm.”
I crossed my arms. “Well, congratulations. You f
ound the last girl on Earth who’s immune to rich
bad boys.”
He smirked. “We’ll see.”
I should’ve walked away.
But bills were due. My roommate was dating a wer
ewolf. And I was down to my last cup of instant
ramen.
So I did what any rational broke college student
would do.
I made a deal with a vampire.
He’d cover tuition. Room and board. Food.
In exchange for… proximity.
And maybe a little blood.
Twice a week.
On Tuesdays and Thursdays.
Before stats class.
“You’re insane,” I said.
He smiled. “You’re broke.”
He had me there.
The first week was awkward.
He showed up in a limo.
At midnight.
Outside my dorm.
With roses.
And a butler.
“Are you trying to romance me or drain me?”
“Both,” he said.
I threw a textbook at him.
He caught it like it was a love letter.
Weirdo.
Turns out, Lucian wasn’t just any vampire.
He was the last of his line.
Old blood. Old money. Old drama.
His clan wanted me dead.
The prophecy said I’d either save them or destro
y them.
Spoiler: I was rooting for option C—run away and
never come back.
But the vampire kept showing up.
With coffee.
With a tuxedo.
Once, with a puppy.
Which he claimed was a shifter.
“Are you serious?”
“It’s a hellhound,” he said.
I named it Snuggles.
The prophecy was unfolding.
My classmates were suspicious.
My professor asked if I was in the witness prote
ction program.
The campus newspaper ran a piece: Is the Mysteri
ous Billionaire Funding Our Library or a Secret
Vampire Coven?
I didn’t answer.
I just kept showing up to class.
And letting Lucian bite me.
It wasn’t gross.
That was the scary part.
His bite felt like a kiss and a blackout.
Warmth. Pressure. A weird craving for dark choco
late and danger.
I told myself it was adrenaline.
He called it chemistry.
One night, after finals week, he kissed me.
Not on the neck.
On the mouth.
It was… good.
Annoyingly good.
Like, Imightneedtoreviseallmylifeplans good.
He pulled back. “You taste like destiny.”
I pushed him. “I taste like ramen and regret.”
He laughed.
Actual laughter.
Deep. Rich. Terrifying.
“You’re not afraid of me,” he said.
“I’m broke, not brave.”
He looked at me like I’d just handed him the wor
ld.
“Stay,” he said.
“Forever?”
“Until the prophecy ends.”
I didn’t say yes.
But I didn’t say no.
And that was enough for him.
We danced around the truth for weeks.
He taught me how to use a wine glass.
I taught him how to use a microwave.
He wore jeans to a football game.
I wore a gown to a gala.
We didn’t fit.
But we matched.
In the weirdest way.
Then came the final test.
The scroll glowed again.
The prophecy demanded a choice.
Me or his immortality.
Live with him forever…
or walk away and let him fade.
I stared at the glowing words.
Then I looked at him.
“Pick me,” he said quietly.
I didn’t hesitate.
“No.”
He flinched.
I smiled.
“You pick me.”
He blinked.
And then he laughed.
Again.
Like I’d broken some ancient rule.
Like I’d rewritten fate.
“You’re impossible,” he said.
“And you’re mine.”
He kissed me.
And this time, the scroll burst into sparkly con
fetti.
The end.
Except it wasn’t.
Because now I had to explain to my parents why I
was dating a 500yearold vampire who owned half
the town.
And why Snuggles needed obedience school.
But hey—free tuition.
And a hell of a love story.
