Chapter 4: Sunburned and Undercover

Hunter Academy training was brutal. Sweat, bruises, barked orders—the norm.

Thanks to my vampire body, I passed everything easily. Reflexes sharper. Stamina endless.

Except for facing the sun. That, I couldn’t fake.

I was the only half-blood vampire who wasn’t afraid of sunlight. Or so I told them.

But sunbathing still hurt. The rays burned my skin—raw and aching.

It felt like my whole body was being roasted alive. Every second under the sun—agony.

At its worst, it felt like my ears and tail would pop out. I had to fight to keep my true form hidden.

When I first got the undercover mission, I tried to refuse. “Your Majesty, I’m not afraid of the sun, but I am afraid of dying.” The words tasted bitter.

But the person on the throne grabbed my neck, face expressionless. “Oh? So, do you want to die now, or go undercover?” Iron grip. Cold eyes.

…

He choked me until I was kneeling at his feet, coughing hard. My pride burned, but I had no choice.

“I’ll… go undercover…” The words barely made it out—choked by pain and fear.

He let me go, smiling in satisfaction. The smile never reached his eyes.

Then he cut his finger, held it to my lips. Blood welled up—bright, intoxicating.

I couldn’t help myself. I sucked eagerly. The taste—pure power, electric and wild.

“Good boy. That’s your reward. Go bring back the anti-vampire drug the academy’s researching.” His voice was soft. Almost gentle.

The king patted my head. Patronizing, but I didn’t dare pull away.

As a half-blood, I had to regularly drink pureblood vampire blood, or I’d turn into a monster. The hunger was always there, lurking.

And the Hunter Academy’s goal? Wipe out all half-bloods. Every day was a risk—a dance on the edge.

If I was exposed there, I was dead. No second chances.

But that day, I stood in the sun too long. The pain built—a slow, relentless burn.

The burning pain came in waves. Sweat dripped down my back. My vision swam.

During a break, Caleb looked at my pale face and sneered. “You look like this just from standing at attention?” Mocking. But there was a hint of concern.

The next second, I collapsed onto him. My knees buckled. He caught me.

His body went rigid. He frowned down at me. “Little pervert, what are you doing? Faking an injury?” Sharp voice. Gentle grip.

Shaking in pain, I pleaded: “Can you… take me back to the dorm?” Barely a whisper.

So hot. I just wanted shade. Anything to escape the burning.

Caleb didn’t move. Just stared down at me. His eyes searched my face, looking for a lie.

The sun kept baking me. I felt cooked from the inside out.

It was so hot, I felt like my true form would burst out. My control slipped. Panic rising.

I didn’t want to be exposed. Didn’t want to die.

Right before my fangs popped out, I gripped his shirt tight—like a lifeline. “Caleb, please.” My voice cracked.

His Adam’s apple bobbed. For a moment, his expression softened.

Finally, he held my waist, muttering: “Jeez, what a wimp.” But his touch was careful. Almost protective.

All the way back, I clung to him. My head rested against his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath my ear.

Caleb’s tall frame blocked out most of the sunlight. The burning eased. I could breathe again.

He carried me to the dorm bed. Cool, dark—relief.

I was nearly sun-drunk. Limp, powerless. My limbs heavy, mind fuzzy.

Caleb frowned, put his hand to my forehead. “You’re burning up—heatstroke?” His palm was cool. Soothing.

His palm was cool. I rubbed against it. The touch grounded me.

Caleb jerked his hand back, face flushing. “Little pervert. Even like this, you’re still trying to flirt.” Sharp words, red cheeks.

My eyelids drooped. Exhaustion pulled at me, but I fought to stay awake.

After a while, something cool touched my forehead. A damp towel. The chill—a balm.

Caleb propped me up, let me lean against him. Steady arm. Comforting, in spite of himself.

He wiped my forehead and face with a towel. Gentle. Almost tender.

“For a guy, your skin’s awfully soft…” He muttered, half to himself. Fingers lingered on my cheek.

When he reached my collarbone, his gaze darkened. I shivered—fever or something else.

He raised his hand to my collar, voice low and hoarse. “Just cooling you down, don’t get any ideas.” Fingers brushed my skin—careful but unsteady.

I felt my shirt being unbuttoned. Cool air hit my chest—soothing.

The towel lingered over my neck, chest, back… His touch was methodical, but tense.

Caleb wrapped me from behind, warm breath on my ear. “Why’s your skin so pale…” Whispered. Full of questions he’d never ask.

“And your waist’s so thin, like a twig. Eat more, got it?” Oddly affectionate. His hand squeezed my side.

“Behave. Stop rubbing against me.” Stern words. Gentle grip.

…

The towel was so cool. Amazing. I closed my eyes, savoring the relief.

I pressed closer to his hand. The touch—addictive. Grounding.

He pinned my shoulder, brought water to my lips. “Drink it.” Firm. No room for argument.

My mind was fuzzy. The world blurred at the edges—hunger and exhaustion fighting for control.

I didn’t want water—I wanted blood. The craving gnawed at me.

I reluctantly stuck out my tongue, gave it a lick. Water—tasteless, unsatisfying.

Caleb’s Adam’s apple bobbed. Voice rough: “Don’t lick. Drink all of it.” Exasperated, but there was a hint of worry.

…