Claimed by My Vampire Stepbrother BL

Chapter 2: Stop Crawling

Liam’s P.O.V

When I finally sat down, the kid next to me—a scrawny guy with brown hair and wire-rimmed glasses—gave me a small, sympathetic smile. Noah, Ms. Rayner had said. He looked exactly like the kind of kid these vultures would eat alive.

Whatever. At least here at the very back of the classroom, I could finally stop pretending to care about introductions or whatever impression I was supposed to make. From here, I had a clear view of everyone else and, more importantly, no one behind me to stare holes into the back of my skull.

I dropped my bag beside me and sighed, pretending I didn’t notice the curious glances that still darted my way from time to time. Ugh, why the hell can’t they seem to take the hint? And why did it seem so cold in here? One thing I noticed since stepping foot in the campus is that the air in Devil’s Lake High always felt a little off—too cold despite the heater humming, like there was a draft sneaking in from somewhere it shouldn’t.

Still, I counted this seat as a win. It wasn’t much, but it was mine.

Homeroom eventually gave way to history, and I leaned back, watching the teacher write something on the board about post–Civil War reconstruction, and let my mind drift.

Tanner, I’d introduced myself earlier. Not Novak.

I couldn’t help the small flicker of satisfaction that came with that. Maybe it was petty, but it was the only piece of myself I still had any control over lately.

Ever since Mom remarried, it felt like my life had been rewritten overnight—new town, new house, new family, new name. I’d been through plenty of moves before, but this one was different. This one felt… final. Like my mom and Emerson had taken a pen and crossed out my old life in one clean stroke.

I could still remember the conversation that sealed the deal. We were sitting at the long dining table in the Novak mansion. I remembered thinking that the place looked like it belonged in a museum, not a home, the chandelier above us throwing shards of pale light over the polished wood.

Emerson Novak sat at the head of the table, hands folded neatly. That was the thing about him that unnerved me greatly; he was always composed, like every movement had been rehearsed. Meanwhile, mom sat beside him, her smile bright but nervous.

“You’ll need to sign the papers soon,” Emerson had said. It somehow pissed me off how he said those things like he was just talking about the damn weather, but I managed to rein myself in. “It’s just a formality.”

I’d frowned. “What papers?”

“The legal process of the name change. It’s important that you share our family name now. Elena’s already agreed.”

Mom had given me that soft look. Please don’t argue right now, she’d said with her eyes.

“I don’t see why it matters,” I’d muttered. “Tanner’s fine.”

Emerson had leaned back at that, studying me. If my response surprised or intrigued him, he didn’t show it. That goddamn poker face. “It matters because it allows me to protect you.”

What the hell was he saying? Protect me? From what, bad report cards?

He’d said it like it was obvious, like I should’ve already known what danger he was talking about. But when I pressed, he just smiled knowingly, and that was the last time I brought it up.

The chalk squeaked on the board, snapping me out of the memory, and I stared down at the empty notebook in front of me. Protect me. Emerson’s words echoed faintly in my head. Protect me from what exactly?

The only thing dangerous in this town so far was how odd it was.

I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to shake off the thought, when I felt a light tap on my shoulder.

I turned, half-expecting another glare or whisper. Instead, I found a girl sitting a row over, leaning toward me with an easy smile.

She had warm brown hair that fell past her shoulders in soft waves, and green eyes that stood out against the gray shirt that should’ve made her look lifeless. Her eyes looked alive, curious.

“Hey,” she said lightly. “I’m Mia.”

It took me a second to find my voice. “Uh—hey.”

“You’re new, right?” she asked, even though it wasn’t really a question. Clearly, she was just trying to start small talk.

“Yeah,” I said. “Just transferred in.” I tried not to cringe at how painfully obviously stupid that last part was. I mean, she was literally there when Ms. Rayner made me introduce myself at homeroom.

“Figured.” She smiled again, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Has anyone given you the grand tour yet?”

“The grand tour?”

“You know—where to find the good vending machines, which bathrooms actually have locks, which teachers to avoid before coffee. The important stuff.”

I couldn’t help the small laugh that slipped out. “Can’t say anyone’s volunteered for that.”

“Well,” she said, tilting her head a little, “consider it covered. I’ll show you around later, after class.”

“Thanks,” I said, meaning it. She was the first friendly face I’d seen in the past hour. “That’d be great.”

She smiled again and turned her attention back to the teacher.

For the first time since I’d stepped into the building, the tension in my shoulders eased a little. It was nice—normal, even—to have someone talk to me without that strange edge of curiosity or judgment.

But the moment didn’t last.

As I glanced toward the front of the room, I caught movement in my peripheral vision—a few boys sitting a few rows ahead, whispering to each other, glancing over their shoulders at me. Even without hearing what they were muttering amongst themselves for, they clearly were not friendly. One of them nudged another, and they both smirked.

Ah f**k. That kind of smirk that meant trouble.

I didn’t know what they found so funny about me, but I could feel the shift in the air again—that same prickle against my skin I’d felt when I walked in, like static right before a storm.

I tried to focus on the board, and whatever the hell our History teacher was talking about, on anything but them. But every few seconds, I felt their eyes slide back to me, assessing, measuring.

And somewhere by the windows—though I didn’t dare look—I could still feel Elijah’s presence. It was like I was aware of how he was aware of everything—the boys’ mocking laughter obviously directed to me, Mia’s quiet offer to show me around, my general unease about this unsettling place—and he was waiting.

Waiting for what, I didn’t know.

All I knew was that my skin wouldn’t stop crawling.