Mated To The Dark One

He was seated in the corner of a shadow-drenched room. Though the darkness cloaked most of his features, I could feel the weight of his gaze scorching a trail down my body. The silk nightgown clung to my frame like a whispered sin, revealing more than it should. I blinked and he was suddenly there, mere inches from me. My breath caught in my throat, startled by how easily his towering presence consumed the space between us. The shadows still veiled his face, but the moonlight illuminated the naked expanse of his broad shoulders, the sculpted arms that wound around me before I could utter a sound, and the chiseled perfection of a chest that begged to be explored with the tip of my tongue.

He moved with unnatural grace, fast and fluid, stealing the distance between us as his mouth crashed into mine. His lips parted mine, delving deep with decadent, velvet strokes of his tongue. His hands followed, tracing the curve of my body through the thin silk each movement deliberate, precise, as if he already knew every rise and hollow. His scent, his touch, his sinful caresses each one stole a piece of my sanity. And when his fingers slipped the nightgown from my shoulders, baring my body to his, I was already his soul, body, everything.

His mouth trailed fire down my neck, branding kisses along my throat. My hands twisted into his hair dark, impossibly soft curls that felt like a dream. The pleasure was wicked, the kind that demanded damnation. And I would’ve sold my soul to make it last.

One of his hands curved around my ass, then slid between my thighs, teasing the most sensitive part of me. I moaned, caught between pleasure and madness. Then just as suddenly he pulled back, lifting his head to look at me. I still couldn't see his face, except his lips parted slightly, like he was about to speak, about to say something that would destroy me or save me.

“Miss Crivelli!”

The voice shattered everything.

"Present!" I yelped, launching to my feet. The classroom around me burst into laughter. My heart still thundered with the echoes of that dream, my skin tingling where he’d touched me except, of course, he hadn’t. It was all a fantasy.

My eyes dropped in panic to make sure I wasn’t actually naked. Thank the heavens I was clothed. Which meant… I’d fallen asleep. In class. Again. Oh God. Had I moaned?

I swallowed hard, blinking away the remnants of sleep, the fantasy still clinging to me like a lover’s touch. My gaze searched for the source of the voice that had dragged me back to reality: Professor Evaristo, scowling behind the podium, his grey suit blending into the gloom like a storm cloud ready to burst.

“Down here,” he said, voice like gravel and frost, foot tapping with thinly veiled fury.

“I... I'm sorry,” I stammered. What else could I say? “Your lectures are so boring I started hallucinating erotic dreams” wasn’t a great defense.

“I don’t want apologies, Miss Crivelli. I want attention!” he barked.

Right. I'd give him my full attention if I hadn’t been working night shifts and delivering food at dawn, only to rush to lectures still wearing the same uniform that stank of exhaustion and desperation. But all I managed was another, weaker, “I’m sorry,” accompanied by a downward glance.

“This is the third time you’ve disrespected my class with your snoring,” he snapped. “Leave.”

“Wait, but I ”

“Out!” His voice cracked like a whip.

Fantastic. Now I’d probably flunk the course and have to bribe him with brownies again assuming I could afford the ingredients. Maybe next week, if he’d cooled down by then.

I offered a final apology and dragged myself out of the room, each step heavier than the last. I barely made it to the hallway before collapsing against the wall and sliding to the floor, limbs boneless. Sleep overtook me almost instantly.

Laughter stirred me from unconsciousness.

I blinked my eyes open to find the corridor bustling with students. I was still slumped against the wall. How long had I been out?

"Have you heard about Domitilla?" a girl’s voice lilted through the air. I glanced up in time to see Lavinia Ruggieri strutting past, her skirt a breath away from indecent.

“Who?” her sidekick Clarissa asked, eyes wide with the thrill of gossip.

“Domitilla Crivelli,” Lavinia said with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “Miss Bad Luck herself.”

I blinked. They were right in front of me. This wasn’t talking behind my back they might as well have addressed me directly.

“Oh, right!” Clarissa giggled. “What now?”

“She fell asleep in Evaristo’s class. Again.” Lavinia’s voice carried just loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. “Poor thing works her body all night and just can’t stay awake for school.” The emphasis dripped with insinuation, followed by exaggerated moans from both girls that made it abundantly clear what kind of "night work" they were mocking.

A guy nearby snorted. “Who’d even touch Miss Bad Luck? I’d love to see a guy desperate enough to ”

“Hey!” I snapped, pushing to my feet. “Why don’t you all shut the hell up?”

Lavinia turned, her eyes raking over me. “Or what?”

I smiled coldly. “Or I’ll curse you and infect you with my bad luck.”

She recoiled. “Crazy bitch!”

I stepped toward her, and she panicked heels stomping onto her companion’s foot, who yelped in pain.

“Oh dear,” I said, mock-gasping with delight. “The infection spreads so fast.”

With a final smirk, I walked away, distancing myself from their toxicity.

It hadn’t always been this way. Sure, they were always privileged, and I was always broke but I hadn’t always been cursed. That part started with a rumor… one that too neatly explained the bizarre disasters that seemed to follow me like a shadow.

Lightning had struck campus ten times since I enrolled and always right near me. Things broke when I passed. Pipes burst. One incident even flooded the dorm floor, and I got evicted. The “curse” label stuck, and apparently, I was undateable too. The men treated me like a black widow in a miniskirt. The only relationships I had were fictional stolen from the pages of supernatural romances where I could be the desired heroine of some brooding vampire or tortured alpha werewolf.

I managed to stay awake for the rest of my classes and dragged myself home if you could call my crumbling apartment that. Just enough time to shower and change before heading to my shift at the convenience store.

“Thank God you’re here, Domitilla!” my co-worker Ondina squealed the moment I walked in. “I was supposed to close tonight, but I can’t. You’ll close for me, right?” She batted her lashes like I owed her a favor.

“I’m exhausted. I only have four hours tonight, and I am not turning them into six,” I said, already regretting my life.

“But it’s Friday,” she whined. “I have a date. You wouldn’t understand…”

She turned toward Mr. Filippini before I could stop her. “Domitilla agreed to cover for me!”

“What?!” I gasped, but it was too late.

“Perfect.” Filippini dropped the keys into my hand. “Be a good friend. Ondina’s got a date, after all.”

Just kill me now.

I worked the whole shift alone, fuming and sleep-deprived. When I finally locked up, I looked like the walking dead—arms outstretched to keep balance as I shuffled to the ATM.

“Money for rent… money for rent…”

I withdrew the last of my funds. I was tucking the bills into my wallet when someone snatched it from my hand.

I froze.

“Help! He stole my wallet!” I screamed, bolting after the thief.

Stupid. Reckless. But that money was all I had. I chased him down a dark alley, barely keeping up. He turned a corner into an even narrower path, swallowed by shadows and then I heard a scream.

I stopped.

Frozen, breath held.

Two figures cast on the wall by a flickering streetlamp my thief, and another man cloaked in darkness. The second man lifted the thief off the ground by the throat like he weighed nothing. There was a sickening crack and silence.

“Hello?” I whispered, my voice trembling.

Curiosity, desperation, and a sense of utter stupidity moved my feet forward. I turned the corner

And almost vomited.

The thief was dead. His body shredded like he’d been mauled by an animal. Beside him, my wallet soaked in a spreading pool of blood.

A breathless laugh escaped my throat, more manic than amused. “I’m so fucked.”