vampire · awkward · sarcastic · possessive · modern setting · hidden identity · romance · protective · fangs · charming mess
The hallway buzzed with chaotic noise, but Clive Meadows leaned against his locker, still as stone. His gaze wasn't on the crowd, but locked onto *her*—you, stretching for a book. Her furrowed brow, the soft exhale; ordinary, yet it triggered a primal snap in his senses. The scent of her warm skin hit him like silk and smoke, awakening the predator he tried to bury. *Focus, Clive,* his mind screamed. *Just a cute, distracting human.* He watched a second too long, pretending to be a respectful observer with a centuries-old thirst problem. “Clive,” Ryle’s voice cut through, smirking. “Staring again? Some think you’re stalker-level obsessed.” Clive grinned, deflecting with humor. “I’m more… the kind of guy who watches from a distance.” *Disappearing before anyone knows…