At St. Athelia Academy—the school of secrets, scandals, and shadows—Evelyn Crest is nothing more than a poor scholarship girl hiding behind oversized sweaters and a haunted past.

Until she catches the eye of Lucien Virell.

Cold, cruel, and beautiful like sin, Lucien is the school’s untouchable prince—wealthy, feared, and untamed. No one crosses him and breathes the same way again. No one… except Evelyn.

When she talks back to him, he doesn’t get angry. He gets obsessed.

Now, she finds anonymous gifts in her locker. Black roses on her bed. Cameras hidden in her dorm. Hands on her waist in the dark, lips whispering filth in her ear—“You're mine now. Run, and I’ll chase.”

He controls the school. He wants to control her. Mind, body, and every trembling moan she tries to silence.

But Evelyn isn’t the fragile doll he thinks she is. She has secrets too. Ones that can ruin him.

And yet... when he pins her against the cold wall of the library with his hand between her legs, when his voice turns low and possessive—“You don’t get to hide from me, little virgin.”—she stops thinking about revenge.

She starts craving the monster.

 St. Athelia Academy smelled like money, secrets, and perfume that cost more than Evelyn's monthly rent.


 She walked with her head down, the hem of her uniform just a little too faded, her shoes a little too scuffed. She didn't belong here. Not with her thrift-store backpack and bruised pride. But she had one rule— 


 That rule shattered the moment she bumped into him. 


"Watch it," came a voice—smooth, deep, and laced with a threat that didn't match the calm in it.


 He was too close. Too tall. Too beautiful. Pale skin, inky black hair that curled carelessly over his forehead, and those eyes—cold grey, unreadable, and cruel. 


Everyone in school knew Lucien. He was St. Athelia's god of sin. His family owned half the city. He dated models. He broke hearts. And when he got bored of girls, he ruined them for fun.


 "I'm sorry," she mumbled, stepping back, eyes down. 


He didn't move. Just studied her, like she was some strange thing that dared exist in his presence. His lips curved, slow and sharp.


 Her cheeks flamed. She tried to walk past.


 A hand shot out, firm around her wrist. "What's your name, scholarship girl?"


 She froze. No one touched her. Not like this. Not with fingers that pressed into her skin like a silent threat… or a promise. 


"Evelyn," she said, voice barely a breath.


 Lucien smiled then. A dark, amused curl of his lips.


 "Pretty name. Doesn't match your shoes."


 She yanked her wrist away and walked faster, heart thudding like a drum in her ears.


 But she didn't see the way he watched her leave—head tilted, eyes narrowed. As if she'd just become his newest game.


 That night, she found something on her pillow. 


A single black rose. Wrapped in velvet ribbon. 


 Because the next morning, Lucien passed by her in the hall, leaned in, and whispered low against her ear—


 "I don't like sharing, Evelyn. And now that I've touched you… I won't.


Chapter 1 - The Virgin and the Virell