Chapter 5 — The Door That Never Closes (Lara)

The lecture ended with the muffled sound of chairs scraping, but I could barely hear anything beyond the blood pulsing in my ears. While the students crowded toward the auditorium exit, my eyes remained fixed on the back of Dorian’s neck as he erased a quote from Byron on the whiteboard. The tension in the air was almost physical, a stretched wire about to snap.

“Lara…” His voice cut through the remaining murmur. “A moment, please.”

My heart raced. He wasn’t looking at me, focused on cleaning the board, but I could feel the energy between us like an electric current. I pretended to organize my notebooks, waiting for the last students to leave.

When the auditorium door closed, he finally turned. His eyes were dark, with deep circles, as if he hadn’t slept in nights.

“Your essay on the nature of desire in *Dracula*…” he began, picking up my paper from the lectern. “It was… disturbingly insightful.”

I moved closer to him, feeling the heat of his body.

“Disturbing in what way, Professor?”

He held the paper out to me, but when our fingers touched as he passed it, a shock ran through my arm. The world seemed to stop. My essay fell to the floor with a dull thud, but neither of us moved to pick it up.

His eyes were locked on mine, his breathing accelerated.

“Lara…” he whispered, a warning and an admission in a single word.

“Yes, Professor?” My voice came out softer than I intended.

His fingers were still over mine, and I could feel his racing pulse through his skin. The air between us seemed to vibrate, charged with everything unsaid, undone, unadmitted.

“This cannot…” he started, but didn’t finish. His eyes dropped to my lips, and I knew he was lost.

My own body reacted before my mind could process it. My fingers intertwined with his, pulling him closer. He didn’t resist. His other arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me against him with a force that took my breath away.

“You’re driving me insane,” he growled against my lips, his hot breath carrying the aroma of bitter coffee.

“Maybe you were already insane, Professor,” I replied, closing the final distance.

The kiss he gave me was not gentle. It was a collision of lips, teeth, and repressed desire. His hands gripped my hair, tilting my head back as his mouth explored mine with a hunger that matched my own.

When we separated, both of us were breathless. His eyes were wide, as if he couldn’t believe what had just happened.

“This is a mistake,” he said, but his hands were still on me, tracing the line of my spine.

“But we’ve already made it,” I whispered, pulling him in for another kiss.

This time it was slower, deeper. His lips tasted of coffee and remorse, and I knew that every second brought us closer to the point of no return.

But I didn’t care. I wanted to dive headfirst into the abyss with him.

The sound of footsteps in the hallway abruptly separated us. He stepped back, dazed, his eyes filled with horror and desire.

“You need to go,” he said, his voice hoarse.

“Yes,” I agreed, but I didn’t move.

Our eyes remained locked for a moment longer, the air between us still charged with the truth of what had just happened. Then I turned and left, feeling his gaze on my back until the auditorium door closed behind me.

In the empty college hallway, I leaned against the cold wall, my legs trembling. My lips still tingled with the taste of him.

The spell was working. And I was closer than ever to getting everything I wanted.

But as I walked down the empty corridor, a single thought echoed in my mind: the witch had been right. Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.