Chapter 1 | A Vampire’s Masquerade
865 Words
Seraphine’s POV
I flip my hair over my shoulder, my crimson nails catching the sunlight. My heels strike the pavement in a steady rhythm, turning heads as I walk through the school gates.
Today marks 200 years of existence. Two centuries trapped between two worlds—too human for vampires, too vampire for humans. Neither side wants me. I don’t care.
I’m here for one reason.
To blend in. To live a life, even if it’s borrowed.
In a school built for monsters who pretend they’re just misunderstood, I’m the only one who doesn’t get to pretend.
The school looms ahead, a blend of nature and history. Towering trees frame the path, their branches reaching like skeletal fingers toward the sky. Sunlight filters through the dense canopy, casting shifting patterns over the cracked stone walkway. A gentle breeze stirs the emerald vines that cling to the building’s aged brick, weaving through the windows and archways like nature’s quiet rebellion.
The structure is old but not forgotten. Time has marked it, yet the ivy-softened edges make it feel alive, a place where knowledge and nature collide. The air carries the scent of ink and aged paper, mingling with damp earth.
I step through the arched entrance, heels clicking against polished floors. Inside, the contrast is immediate—order against wildness. Lockers line the walls, their metal surfaces plastered with stickers and careless graffiti. Bulletin boards overflow with flyers about school clubs, upcoming games, and a missing cat named Mr. Pickles.
Students move through the halls in clusters, their chatter a steady hum. Some lean against lockers, exchanging gossip. Others rush past, caught up in their own little dramas.
I slip into their world, silent and observant.
Then I feel it.
The stares. The whispers.
They know something’s off.
Not what, not yet. But I can feel their curiosity like a pulse against my skin.
A vampire girl passes me, eyes narrowing as if I reek of something foul. “Half-breed,” she mutters under her breath, just loud enough. I don’t flinch. I’ve heard worse.
A group of boys by their lockers watches openly, their attention heavy. One leans forward, a cocky smirk curving his lips.
"Hey, new girl!"
I slow, just enough to let my gaze meet his. His breath catches. His heartbeat stutters.
Weak. Predictable.
I smirk and keep walking, the satisfying burn of his lingering stare trailing after me.
But my amusement dies the second I smell it.
The scent hits me like a punch to the chest—rich, warm, intoxicating. It’s unlike any blood I’ve ever encountered, so potent my fangs press against my lower lip before I can stop them.
I need to find the source.
The scent leads me to the administrator’s office. I push the door open, stepping inside—
And immediately regret it.
A man in his late thirties sits behind the desk, watching me. His gaze drags over me, slow, assessing, inappropriate.
Mr. Felix.
His thoughts are clear in his expression. I suppress a sigh. Disgusting.
I lean against the counter, masking my impatience with a practiced smile. "Good day, Mr. Felix."
His Adam’s apple bobs.
I tilt my head, voice dropping into something smoother, sharper. "Would it be fair for me to have a taste of your blood, given the way you’ve looked at me?"
His mouth opens, but before he can speak—
The door behind him creaks open.
And suddenly, nothing else matters.
The scent floods the room, drowning out everything. It wraps around me, sinks into my skin, sets my nerves on fire.
I don’t need to turn to know it’s him.
The source.
My body moves before my mind catches up, crossing the room in a blink. I inhale deeply, the scent wrapping around my senses like silk.
Gods.
It’s stronger up close. Richer. Dangerous.
His scent isn’t just irresistible. It’s wrong. Familiar in a way that makes no sense. Like I’ve waited two hundred years just to meet him—and I’m not sure if that’s fate or a curse.
My pulse races with something I don’t recognize—excitement, hunger, something worse.
And then, just as quickly, I pull back.
Because now I see him.
He stands in the doorway, shoulders squared, expression unreadable. His presence fills the space, thick with power, suffocating in its intensity.
An Alpha.
His blood thrums with energy, an unspoken challenge. My stomach coils, instincts screaming at me to take what’s in front of me.
He watches me, too calm, too controlled. But I see it—the flicker of something dark beneath the surface.
He’s fighting something too.
His gaze drags over me, slow and deliberate. "Can I help you?"
I smirk, tilting my head. "Just… appreciating the view."
A muscle in his jaw ticks. "That so?"
The tension stretches, humming between us like a drawn bowstring.
I like it.
I step closer, just enough to test the space between us. His eyes darken, but he doesn’t move.
Interesting.
"See you around, Alpha," I murmur, letting my voice drop just a little.
Then I turn and walk away, feeling his gaze burn into my back the entire time.
This is far from over.
- Writer
