My Professor Is the Devil

Chapter 17: Michael

I stood outside Aurora Whitmore’s house for three hours.

In the snow.

Like a psychopath.

The realization should have bothered me more than it did.

Instead, I remained motionless beneath the bare trees across the street, dark coat untouched by the cold while pale light glowed softly from Aurora’s bedroom window upstairs.

Watching her had become a habit I never intended to form.

A dangerous one.

Two days.

Aurora had missed university for two days because of me.

Because I lost control.

Because I let jealousy turn me into exactly the kind of monster I spent centuries pretending not to be.

The image of her stumbling backward after I pushed her replayed viciously in my mind.

The fear in her eyes afterward.

The way she stepped away from me.

Not toward me.

Away.

I hated it.

God, I hated it.

Snow drifted quietly through the dark street while the entire neighborhood slept peacefully around me.

Human lives hidden behind warm lights and locked doors.

Simple.

Fragile.

And somewhere upstairs—

Aurora was awake.

I could hear her moving around her room even from here.

Slow footsteps. Restless pacing. The uneven rhythm of her heartbeat whenever she stopped near the window.

Then suddenly—

She appeared.

My entire body went still instinctively.

Aurora stepped near the curtains wearing an oversized sweater, dark hair loose around her shoulders while soft golden light wrapped around her skin.

Beautiful.

Painfully so.

Her eyes lifted toward the street.

Toward me.

And for one dangerous second—

We looked directly at each other.

Her heartbeat stumbled instantly.

Mine too.

A truck passed between us.

I disappeared before the headlights cleared.

Instinct.

The shadows welcomed me immediately, swallowing my presence completely while Aurora looked around the street in confusion.

I watched her through darkness she couldn’t understand.

And something inside my chest twisted painfully.

Because she looked exhausted.

Lonely.

This needed to stop.

I should leave her alone.

That was the only merciful thing left to do.

Aurora deserved normalcy. Safety. A life untouched by whatever darkness followed me through centuries.

Not this.

Not me standing outside her home in the middle of the night like some obsessed creature unable to let go.

Yet I stayed.

Hours passed slowly.

The lights downstairs eventually turned off one by one until only Aurora’s bedroom remained glowing softly upstairs.

Still awake.

Still restless.

Then something changed.

Her heartbeat finally slowed.

Steadier now.

Calmer.

And for the first time in days—

Aurora fell asleep peacefully.

The relief that hit me nearly made me laugh at myself.

Pathetic.

Absolutely pathetic.

I closed my eyes briefly, listening carefully to the soft rhythm of her breathing from across the street.

Safe.

She was safe.

That should have been enough.

It wasn’t.

Before reason could stop me, shadows curled instinctively beneath my feet.

Darkness opened around me silently.

And within seconds—

I stood inside Aurora’s bedroom.

Moonlight spilled softly across the room.

Everything smelled like her.

Vanilla. Books. Winter air.

Human.

Warm.

Aurora slept curled beneath heavy blankets, breathing softly against the pillow while snow drifted quietly outside her windows.

Peaceful.

Finally peaceful.

My chest tightened painfully at the sight.

Because I realized something horrifying in that moment.

I would destroy anyone who disturbed this peace.

Anyone who hurt her.

Anyone who made her cry again.

Including myself.

I stepped closer to the bed carefully.

Slowly.

Like approaching something sacred.

Aurora shifted slightly in her sleep.

One soft breath leaving her lips before she settled again.

And God—

Even unconscious, she trusted the world too much.

My hand lifted instinctively toward her face before stopping inches away.

No.

I shouldn’t touch her.

I shouldn’t even be here.

But then Aurora moved again.

This time whispering something softly in her sleep.

I froze completely.

“Michael…”

My name.

Barely audible.

Yet it hit harder than anything I’d heard in centuries.

Something ancient inside me unraveled instantly.

I sat carefully on the edge of the bed before I could stop myself.

Aurora stirred slightly but didn’t wake.

Instead, she unconsciously moved closer toward the warmth of my body.

Trusting.

Always trusting.

A dangerous ache spread slowly through my chest.

Because she had no idea what I really was.

No idea the thing sitting beside her bed had ruled Hell itself.

That monsters wore beautiful faces too.

My fingers brushed lightly through her hair.

Soft.

Silk beneath my skin.

“Aurora,” I murmured quietly.

She sighed softly in her sleep.

And somehow—

That tiny sound nearly destroyed what remained of my restraint.

For centuries, humans begged me for power. Pleasure. Revenge.

But Aurora?

Aurora only ever wanted kindness.

Safety.

Love.

Things I no longer knew how to give.

I looked toward the bedroom window slowly.

Snow continued falling outside while darkness pressed heavily against the glass.

The demon beneath my skin stirred restlessly again.

Possessive.

Hungry.

It wanted closer.

More.

Always more.

I ignored it.

Barely.

Instead, I carefully pulled the blanket higher around Aurora’s shoulders before leaning down slowly.

My lips brushed softly against her temple.

Gentle.

Almost reverent.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered against her skin.

For all of it.

The fear.

The confusion.

The damage I would inevitably bring into her life.

Aurora relaxed deeper into sleep afterward, her breathing evening out completely.

And suddenly—

For the first time in weeks—

She looked truly at peace.

Because of me.

That realization terrified me.

I stayed there another hour anyway.

Watching her sleep.

Listening to her heartbeat.

Existing dangerously close to the only thing left in this world capable of ruining me completely.

Then finally—

Before sunrise touched the horizon—

I disappeared back into the shadows.

Leaving Aurora asleep beneath warm blankets with no memory of me being there at all.

But as I stood once more beneath the snowy trees outside her house, one truth settled heavily inside my chest.

I was no longer protecting Aurora from myself.

I was already too far gone for that.