The One Night Stand Turns Out To Be My Professor

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Sophia’s POV

I tried to move, but the ropes binding my wrists dug deeper into my skin. Panic clawed at my throat as I blinked through the haze clouding my vision. The forest around me had turned into a blur of dark shadows and faint moonlight, and all I could feel was the cold, hard ground beneath me and the burning pain in my limbs.

Where am I?

My thoughts were jumbled, a chaotic mess that refused to settle into any sort of coherence. The last thing I remembered was the sharp sting of the bullets—wooden bullets—tearing through my skin, and then everything had gone black. Now, I was here, tied up, completely helpless.

Helpless.

That word echoed in my mind, a cruel reminder of how powerless I was in this moment. The vampire strength that had become second nature to me, the abilities I had come to rely on—they were all gone, drained away by the vervain they kept injecting into me. I could feel it coursing through my veins, dulling my senses, sapping every ounce of energy from my body.

I tried to focus, tried to stay alert, but my mind kept slipping, losing itself in the fog of pain and fear. I had to stay conscious. I had to figure out where I was and who had taken me. But every time I tried to focus, the pain flared up again, pulling me back into the darkness.

“Don’t fight it,” a voice said, low and rough.

My head jerked up, and I squinted through the dim light, trying to make out the figure standing over me. I couldn’t see his face, just a dark silhouette against the faint glow of the moon.

“Who are you?” I croaked, my voice barely more than a whisper.

He didn’t answer, just crouched down in front of me, his cold eyes locking onto mine. “You should save your strength,” he said, almost mocking. “You’re going to need it.”

I felt a surge of anger, but it was quickly drowned out by the overwhelming weakness in my limbs. “Where are you taking me?” I demanded, though my voice was weak and trembling.

He ignored my question and grabbed my arm roughly, yanking me to my feet. I cried out as pain shot through my body, but he didn’t seem to care. With a swift motion, he lifted me up and threw me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing.

I struggled against him, but it was useless. The vervain had left me too weak to fight back, and every movement sent another wave of agony through my body.

I didn’t know how long we walked. Time seemed to blur together, and all I could do was focus on staying awake, on trying to make sense of what was happening. But eventually, the trees began to thin out, and the cold night air was replaced by the stifling warmth of an enclosed space.

A warehouse. I could smell the scent of rusted metal and old wood, hear the faint hum of machinery in the distance. The man carrying me dropped me onto the cold, hard floor, and I gasped as the impact jarred my already aching body. I tried to push myself up, but my arms gave out, and I collapsed back onto the floor.

The sound of footsteps echoed through the warehouse, and I forced my eyes open, trying to see who was there. More figures emerged from the shadows, their faces obscured by the dim light, but I could feel their eyes on me, watching, waiting.

“She’s awake,” one of them said, a woman’s voice this time. It was cold, emotionless.

“Good,” another voice replied. “We need her conscious.”

I shivered at the sound of that voice, the icy malice in it sending a chill down my spine. I wanted to speak, to demand answers, but my throat was too dry, my mouth too heavy. All I could do was lie there, helpless and vulnerable, as they circled around me like predators.