Page 11 of Volik

Overnight, those in charge of the operation vanished.

And the soldiers who were left on the ground, with no orders to follow, returned home, claiming to have heard and seen nothing.

Since then, there has been a level of nonviolence the world hasn’t witnessed before.

We don’t know exactly how many vampires there are. Every once in a while, one that is unknown to the public is captured on camera. But I’m sure there are many more than we think. Just like I’m sure some of the rumors about others are based in fact. Whether they still exist is the question.

It’s only a matter of time before the current peace is tested again. But for now, the equilibrium remains.

“Whoops, sorry, ma’am.” A student bolts past in front of me, and I skid to a stop.

I lift a hand in apology, sure that was my fault for not paying attention, but the kid is already yards away.

Blowing out a breath, I look up and see Bates Hall just ahead.

No one else crosses my path as I make my way over. There are no steps leading up to the entrance, just a small overhang above, good for the rain that seems imminent.

Through the glass in the double front doors, I can see that the hallway beyond is empty. Grateful for a moment of respite, I pull the door open and step inside.

Pausing, I dig the map out of my bag and triple-check the room number, 3B. Then I find it right where Jenny said I would, halfway down on the right.

The wood door is closed and locked, but like the front door, the top half is fitted with a window looking in.

The lights are off in the lecture hall, and the windows on the opposite wall are covered with slat blinds, but enough murky daylight seeps through to make out the details of the room.

A large wooden desk sits off-center, closer to the windows, with its back to the wall of whiteboards. While sitting in the leather chair on wheels, I’ll be facing the stadium-style seating that fills the rest of the large room. Tables and chairs line each level, with a stairway in the center and on either side. Stuffed to capacity, you could probably fit a couple hundred students in here. But it should only be about half full for my classes.

My classes.

In this real classroom.

I slide my hand into my pocket and pull out my key.

As I reach to insert it in the lock, I take in my reflection in the glass.

My jeans are snug against my hips and thighs. Like all my pants are.

My maroon sweater is oversized and drapey but still clings to my tits. I’ve tucked the front hem into the waistband of my jeans, giving the outfit some direction while also showing off my not-toned waist.

I’m not a small woman.

At five foot ten, I was taller than most of the boys growing up. And having the genes and metabolism of my grandmother, I was heavier than most of the boys growing up too.

The boys turned into men, and many got taller than me by college. But my shape… curvy, plus size, plump, thick… that’s never changed.

I’ve fought with my body for most of my life. Gotten clothes in the smallest size I can fit in. Gotten clothes two sizes too big to hide under. But over the last few years, I’ve been actively working on self-acceptance. It was harder than it should’ve been, but now that I’m embracing my body and buying clothes that fit, I feel more confident than I ever have before.

I feel almost… sexy.

And since I’m one day away from being a thirty-year-old virgin, feeling sexy is honestly a feat.

I’ve also been growing my hair out, styling the layers into soft waves, not caring if it’s the best haircut for someone with round cheeks.

I kept it shoulder length for a long time, but several months ago, after my last cut and round of highlights, I decided to let it go for a while.

The lighter parts have faded to a golden bronze, while the roots are the warm brown of my natural tone, matching my dark brows.

My brother had green eyes. They were so vibrant you couldn’t help but look twice. But mine are just… meh. I’ve always found the medium brown boring. Always wanted a different color.