Chapter 179
Lily POV
The lecturer’s words hung in the air between us like a challenge. My heart was still racing from his casual mention of the Moonwhisper bloodline and the Shadow Council, but now he was looking at me expectantly, as if waiting for me to respond to something completely different.
“Could you help me carry these to my office?” He asked, gesturing to a stack of books and papers on his desk. “I’d like to discuss your academic situation privately p>
My skepticism must have shown on my face because he raised an eyebrow. “Unless you have somewhere else you need to be? I was under the impression that you had cleared your entire morning activity for classes today p>
The casual mention of how I’d missed all my classes reminded me of my reality. I had come back to try to see if I could catch up with everything I’d missed. So, whether I liked it or not, that was supposed to be my top priority and nothing else.
With a resigned nod, I moved to help him gather his materials.
The lecturers office was on the third floor, requiring us to climb two flights of stairs while carrying an impressive collection of historical texts. The silence between us felt charged with unspoken questions, and I found myself stealing glances at his profile as we walked. There was something about his demeanor that didn’t quite match his earlier dramatic revelation about my heritage. Now he seemed almost… normal. Professional.
His office was exactly what I would have expected from a history professor—floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, a large wooden desk covered with paper and more books, and several framed degrees on the walls. The space smelled of old leather and coffee, with afternoon sunlight streaming through tall windows that overlooked the campus quad.
“Please, have a seat,” he said, gesturing to one of two chairs positioned in front of his desk. He moved around to the other side, settling into a well-worn leather chair that creaked softly under his weight.
“Can I get you anything to drink? Coffee? Water?” His tone was polite, professional—nothing like the mysterious figure who had just revealed knowledge of my supernatural heritage.
“No, thank you,” I replied, my voice sounding strained even to my own ears. The nervousness was building in my chest, making it difficult to sit still. Had I imagined the entire exchange about the Nightbane bloodline? Or was this some kind of test?
The lecturer pulled out a clipboard from his desk drawer and studied it for several moments, occasionally glancing up at me with those intelligent brown eyes. Finally, he looked directly at me and asked, “You are Lily Stone, correct p>
I nodded, confused by the formal tone of the question. “Yes p>
“Good.” He made a note on his clipboard. “I received a briefing from the faculty head yesterday. She informed all the lecturers about your situation—that you’ve been absent from school for nearly a month due to… circumstances… and that we need to prepare special lesson plans to help you catch up p>
The relief that washed over me was almost dizzying. This was about my missed classes, not about ancient bloodlines or shadowy organizations. I had been so paranoid about supernatural threats that I’d read sinister meanings into perfectly normal academic concerns.
“The other lecturers agreed to compile materials and video lessons for you to review independently,” the lecturer continued, consulting his notes. “However, I feel that history isn’t something that can be properly discussed through videos or simple reading materials. Historical context requires dialogue, debate, analysis. So I opted to teach you one-on-one instead p>
“Oh,” I stammered, caught off guard by his dedication. “Thank you. I really appreciate that. I know this creates extra work for you p>
He studied me for several long moments, his expression unreadable. Then he asked a question that made my face burn with embarrassment.
“Why is the Alpha doing this for you? Do you two have… a thing together p>
My face turned red immediately, heat flooding my cheeks as I struggled to find words. The directness of the question, combined with the clinical way he’d asked it, left me completely speechless. How was I supposed to explain that I was the Alpha’s mate to the lecturer?
I opened my mouth, then closed it again, then repeated the process like a fish gasping for air. The lecturer watched this display with what might have been amusement, though his expression remained professionally neutral.
When it became clear I wasn’t going to answer, he simply nodded as if my silence had provided all the information he needed. Without another word, he reached into his desk drawer and withdrew a small hardcover notebook, which he slid across the desk toward me.
“These are the topics you’ve missed during your absence,” he explained, his tone returning to strictly academic. “I’ve prepared the materials you’ll need to read on your own, as well as a schedule for how we’ll structure our sessions. Every day, after your last scheduled class, you’ll come to my office for supplementary instruction p>
I picked up the notebook, flipping through pages of neat handwriting that outlined historical periods, key figures, and recommended readings. The organization was impressive, clearly representing hours of preparation on his part.
“I I gulped, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by the commitment he was describing. Daily one-on-one sessions meant daily interaction with this man who somehow knew far more about my situation than any normal professor should. “Every day p>
“Every day,” he confirmed, already standing and moving toward the door. “Until you’re caught up with the rest of the class. I estimate it will take approximately two weeks, assuming you keep up with the reading assignments p>
He opened the door with a gesture that was clearly dismissive. “You can leave now, so I can finish up with my other work. I’d suggest checking the library for most of the materials you’ll need. The librarian, is expecting you p>
The abrupt transition from our conversation to dismissal left me feeling disoriented. I stood quickly, clutching the notebook against my chest, and moved toward the door.
“Thank you,” I said again, though I wasn’t entirely sure what I was thanking him for. “I’ll… I’ll see you tomorrow then p>
“Two o’clock sharp,” he replied, already turning his attention to papers on his desk. “And Miss Stone? Don’t be late p>