My Professor Is the Devil

Chapter 9: Aurora

The library was almost empty by midnight.

Only a few lamps remained on between the endless shelves, casting soft golden light across scattered books and abandoned tables. The silence felt heavier this late at night—thick enough to hear every page turn, every quiet breath.

I liked it.

Silence was easier than thoughts.

And lately, my thoughts had become dangerous.

I rubbed tiredly at my eyes before looking back down at my laptop screen.

Words blurred together.

Great.

I’d been rereading the same paragraph for twenty minutes.

This was Professor Michael Knight’s fault.

Completely.

Ever since the rainstorm and that almost-kiss in his car, something between us had shifted again.

Not closer.

Worse.

More tense.

Like we were both standing too close to something neither of us wanted to admit existed.

And somehow, that made him colder.

More distant in class.

He barely looked at me anymore.

Barely spoke to me.

Yet every time he entered a room—

I noticed.

Every single time.

I exhaled quietly and shut my laptop.

Enough.

I needed sleep before I failed anatomy because of one emotionally unstable professor.

I packed my books slowly, stretching my sore shoulders before reaching down for my bag.

Only—

It wasn’t there.

I frowned immediately, looking beneath the table.

Then beside me.

Nothing.

“What are you looking for?”

I froze.

That voice.

Low. Smooth. Familiar.

Slowly, I turned around.

And there he was.

Professor Michael Knight sat lazily in the chair behind me, my bag resting beside his feet.

Dark coat. Black gloves. Calm expression.

Like stealing a student’s belongings at midnight was completely reasonable behavior.

My eyes narrowed immediately.

“You took my bag.”

“I did.”

The audacity of his calm tone made me blink.

“Why?”

Professor Michael leaned back slightly in the chair, studying me with that unreadable gaze that always made my pulse act stupid.

“Because if I didn’t,” he said evenly, “you would’ve walked home alone again.”

I stared at him in disbelief.

“You can’t just steal my things.”

“It’s not stealing if I intend to return it.”

“That’s literally still stealing.”

Something almost amused flickered across his face.

Barely there.

“Professor,” I said slowly, trying to stay patient, “give me my bag.”

“No.”

My jaw dropped slightly.

“No?”

“No.”

He looked absurdly calm saying it too.

Like he genuinely saw nothing wrong with this situation.

I crossed my arms tightly.

“I’m not getting into your car.”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“You implied it.”

“I intended it.”

Heat rushed to my face instantly.

God.

Talking to him was exhausting.

“I’m perfectly capable of walking home.”

Professor Michael’s expression darkened slightly at that.

“That isn’t the point.”

“Then what is?”

For a second, he said nothing.

His gaze held mine steadily.

Too steadily.

Then quietly—

“The point is that I don’t like the idea of you walking home alone at midnight.”

My heartbeat stumbled unexpectedly.

I looked away first.

Of course I did.

“You shouldn’t care.”

The words came out softer than intended.

Silence stretched.

Then—

“You’re right,” he said quietly.

That hurt more than it should have.

I swallowed hard and reached down quickly for my bag.

This time, he let me take it.

“Goodnight, Professor.”

I turned immediately before he could see the strange tightness in my chest.

But just as I started walking away—

“Aurora.”

I stopped.

Damn him.

Slowly, I looked back.

Professor Michael stood now, towering in the quiet library, his dark eyes fixed entirely on me.

Serious.

Intense.

“Let me drive you home.”

Not commanding this time.

Not teasing.

Just… tired.

“I already said no Professor Michael.”

“And I’m asking again, Aurora.”

My pulse quickened.

Because there was something different in his voice tonight.

Less controlled.

More honest.

“I don’t understand you, Professor,” I admitted quietly before I could stop myself.

A dangerous thing to say.

Professor Michael’s jaw tightened slightly.

“Neither do I.”

The honesty of that answer startled me enough to silence me completely.

Outside, thunder rumbled softly in the distance.

Rain beginning again.

Professor Michael glanced briefly toward the dark windows before looking back at me.

Then softly—

“Please.”

That was worse than demanding.

Far worse.

Because Professor Knight never sounded uncertain.

Until now.

And somehow—

That was the reason I finally gave in.

The drive home was quiet.

Not tense this time.

Not sharp.

Just quiet.

The kind of silence that felt strangely intimate.

Rain tapped gently against the windshield while soft music played somewhere low in the background.

I stared out the window most of the drive, trying not to notice the warmth of the car.

Trying not to notice him.

“You’re exhausted.”

I glanced toward him slightly.

“I’m fine.”

“You keep saying that.”

I frowned faintly.

“My grandmother says the same thing.”

Something softened briefly in his expression at that.

“She worries about you.”

The certainty in his voice surprised me.

“She worries too much.”

“No,” Professor Michael said quietly. “She doesn’t.”

I looked down at my hands.

For some reason, talking to him like this felt more dangerous than flirting ever had.

Because this—

This felt real.

The car slowed near my street.

And suddenly, I didn’t want the ride to end.

That realization terrified me instantly.

Professor Michael parked quietly in front of my grandparents’ house.

Neither of us moved right away.

Rain is still falling softly outside.

Then Professor Michael finally spoke.

“You should go inside before your grandparents start worrying.”

I nodded slowly.

But before opening the door, I looked at him one last time.

And found him already watching me.

Not like a professor.

Not like a man flirting with a girl.

Something deeper than that.

Something almost painful.

“Goodnight, Aurora.”

His voice was soft now.

Dangerously soft.

I stepped out of the car quickly before my heart could betray me any further.

But even after I reached the front door—

I could still feel his eyes following me.