My Professor Is the Devil

Chapter 13: Michael

I stayed in my office long after campus emptied.

The lights outside my windows dimmed one by one until only scattered pools of gold remained across the university grounds, swallowed by the cold Vermont night.

Still—

I didn’t move.

Aurora’s face haunted me.

Again.

The hurt in her eyes during class earlier replayed endlessly in my mind, sharper than it had any right to be.

“I’m sorry, Professor.”

Quiet.

Embarrassed.

And somehow, she still looked at me afterward like I was worth understanding.

That was the worst part.

I leaned back against my chair slowly, loosening my tie with tired fingers.

The office still carried traces of Vanessa’s perfume.

Sweet. Heavy. Clinging to the air like regret.

I hated that too.

Vanessa had been easy.

Predictable.

A distraction.

Nothing more.

And for a few reckless minutes, I let myself pretend that touching someone else would erase Aurora from my mind.

It didn’t.

It made it worse.

Because even with another woman on her knees in front of me, all I could think about was Aurora.

Aurora’s mouth.

Aurora’s blush.

Aurora’s soft voice saying Professor like it meant something dangerous.

Pathetic.

Absolutely pathetic.

I laughed quietly under my breath, though there was no humor in it.

If Hell could see me now, they would never let me hear the end of it.

The Devil himself ruined over an eighteen-year-old medical student with sad eyes and too much kindness left in her heart.

My jaw tightened.

No.

Not ruined.

Not yet.

The demon beneath my skin stirred restlessly, reacting to the thought of her instantly.

Possessive.

Hungry.

It hated distance almost as much as I did.

I stood abruptly from my desk and grabbed my coat.

Enough.

I needed air. Distance. Anything besides another hour trapped alone with my thoughts.

The hallway outside was silent as I locked my office door behind me.

Most students had already gone home.

Good.

Less temptation.

My footsteps echoed softly across the empty building while I headed toward the parking lot exit.

And then—

I remembered.

The library.

Aurora usually stayed late.

Too late.

Especially after difficult days.

And today had been entirely my fault.

A dangerous ache settled in my chest immediately.

I should leave.

That would be smarter.

Healthier.

Necessary.

Instead, my feet changed direction on instinct.

Toward the library.

Of course, they did.

The campus air was freezing outside, the wind moving sharply through the dark trees lining the pathways. Snow from earlier storms still clung to the edges of sidewalks, glowing faintly beneath the streetlights.

The library windows shone warmly ahead.

Still open.

I entered quietly.

The familiar silence wrapped around me instantly, interrupted only by the distant sound of turning pages and low murmured voices from the second floor.

My senses found her before my eyes did.

Always.

Aurora was upstairs.

Near the back, the study tables beside the tall windows.

And she wasn’t alone.

I stopped halfway up the staircase.

Professor Hagset sat across from her.

Close enough to lean toward her while speaking quietly.

Close enough that Aurora smiled.

My chest tightened violently.

She looked…

Happy.

Not nervous.

Not anxious.

Not overwhelmed by tension and confusion like she always seemed around me.

Happy.

Aurora laughed softly at something Hagset said, her head tilting slightly as she pushed loose dark hair behind her ear.

The sound hit me harder than it should have.

Because I realized something awful in that moment.

I had never made her laugh like that.

With me, Aurora was always breathless.

Tense.

Pulled between fear and desire and curiosity, she didn’t understand.

But with him?

She looked comfortable.

Safe.

Human.

The demon inside me reacted immediately.

A dark wave of possessiveness crawled violently beneath my skin.

Mine.

The word echoed viciously through my head.

Ancient instinct.

Territorial.

Dangerous.

My fingers tightened around the staircase railing hard enough to crack the wood beneath my grip.

I released it immediately.

Control.

Professor Hagset handed her a paper, speaking softly while Aurora looked over it carefully. Clinical shadowing paperwork, probably.

He watched her with genuine admiration.

Respect.

And worse—

Kindness.

A sharp bitterness twisted unexpectedly inside me.

Because Professor Hagset could offer her things I never could.

Normalcy.

Safety.

A future untouched by darkness.

Aurora deserved that.

Not this.

Not me.

She smiled again.

And F*ck—

Seeing that smile while knowing I was the reason she cried earlier nearly destroyed what little restraint I had left.

For one reckless second, I considered walking over there.

Interrupting them.

Taking her home like I had every night these past weeks.

But then another thought followed immediately after.

And what exactly would you say to her, Lucifer?

That you humiliated her because you were jealous?

That you used another woman afterward trying to erase the way Aurora made you feel?

That every second near her made the monster beneath your skin stronger?

No.

Aurora deserved one peaceful moment untouched by my chaos.

Even if it wasn’t with me.

The realization settled heavily inside my chest.

Because this—

Watching her laugh with another man while I stood hidden in shadows—

Felt strangely familiar.

Like punishment.

Perhaps that was fitting.

After all, I had spent centuries ruining beautiful things.

Maybe this was simply the universe reminding me that some things were never meant for monsters to keep.

Aurora suddenly glanced toward the staircase.

My body went still instantly.

For one terrifying second, I thought she saw me.

But her eyes drifted past without stopping.

Good.

I stepped back slowly into the shadows before she could look again.

The demon inside me snarled violently in protest.

Possessive.

Furious.

Wanting me to go to her anyway.

I ignored it.

Barely.

Then quietly—

Without saying a single word—

I turned around and left the library.

Cold night air hit me immediately outside, sharp enough to burn my lungs.

But it still felt easier than staying in that room another second.

Easier than watching Aurora smile at someone else while knowing I could never truly deserve the same look from her.

I reached my car slowly, exhaustion settling deep into my bones.

Not physical exhaustion.

Something older than that.

Something immortal.

For the first time in centuries, temptation no longer felt pleasurable.

It felt cruel.

And as I drove away from campus alone that night, one thought followed me relentlessly through the dark roads of Vermont.

Maybe staying away from Aurora wasn’t just necessary anymore.

Maybe it was the only merciful thing I had left to give her.