I shouldn't have let him stay.
I knew that the moment the café began to empty, when the soft noise of conversations faded into silence and the world outside turned darker, quieter—wrong again. Riya had already left, waving casually, completely unaware that something in my life had shifted into something I didn't understand anymore.
And yet…
he was still here.
Sitting in the same corner.
Watching me.
Like he belonged.
Like he had every right to stay.
I tried to focus on cleaning the counter, on wiping surfaces that were already clean, on anything that would stop me from looking at him again.
It didn't work.
I could feel his gaze.
Not heavy.
Not suffocating.
But constant.
Like a presence that refused to fade.
"You're avoiding me."
His voice broke through the silence so suddenly that I almost dropped the glass in my hand.
"I'm not," I replied quickly, even though we both knew that was a lie.
There was a soft pause behind me, and then—
"Look at me."
It wasn't loud.
It wasn't forceful.
But something in the way he said it made my body react before my mind could.
I turned.
And there he was.
Closer than before.
I hadn't even heard him move.
My breath caught.
"See?" he said quietly. "Not that hard."
"There's nothing to avoid," I muttered, trying to sound normal, trying to ignore the way my heart had started racing again.
But his eyes…
they didn't let anything pass unnoticed.
"You're afraid."
"I'm not."
"You should be."
That made me freeze.
For a moment, I just stared at him, searching his face for something—anything—that would tell me he was joking.
He wasn't.
"Why would you say that?" I asked softly.
His gaze didn't waver.
"Because you're standing too close to something you don't understand."
A chill ran down my spine.
"And you do?" I challenged, even though my voice wasn't as steady as I wanted it to be.
"Yes."
The answer came too easily.
Too confidently.
Like there wasn't even a possibility of doubt.
"Then explain it to me," I said, taking a small step closer without realizing it. "Explain what's happening to me. Explain what I saw last night. Explain why that thing—"
I stopped.
Because even saying it out loud felt unreal.
"Why it was afraid of you."
Silence.
Not empty.
Heavy.
His eyes held mine, and for a moment, I thought—just maybe—he would finally tell me.
But instead…
he did something else.
He reached for me.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Like he was giving me time to pull away.
I didn't.
His fingers wrapped gently around my wrist.
Right where the mark was.
My breath hitched.
I hadn't told him about it.
Hadn't shown it to anyone.
And yet—
he knew exactly where to touch.
"Does it hurt?" he asked quietly.
His thumb brushed lightly over the faint dark line on my skin.
And for a second—
just a second—
a strange warmth spread through me.
Not pain.
Not fear.
Something else.
Something that made my chest tighten.
"No…" I whispered.
But my voice sounded different.
Softer.
Unsteady.
Because it wasn't just the mark reacting—
it was me.
His touch wasn't cold.
It wasn't distant.
It was… careful.
Gentle in a way that didn't match anything else about him.
Like he was holding something fragile.
Like he was holding me.
"You shouldn't have this," he murmured, almost to himself.
"What is it?" I asked, my voice barely above a breath.
His gaze lifted to mine.
And for the first time—
there was something in his eyes that looked dangerously close to anger.
Not at me.
At something else.
Something I couldn't see.
"It means," he said slowly, "something has already touched you."
A cold shiver ran through me.
"That thing last night…"
His jaw tightened slightly.
"It marked you."
The word sent a wave of unease through me.
Marked.
Like I wasn't just seen—
but chosen.
Claimed.
"Why?" I whispered.
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, his grip on my wrist tightened just slightly—not enough to hurt, but enough to make me aware of it.
Like he didn't like the thought.
Like he didn't like that something else had touched me.
And that realization—
it did something to me.
Something I wasn't ready to understand.
"I told you," he said finally, his voice lower now, darker, "you don't need to worry about it."
"That's not true," I said, pulling my hand back slightly, though not completely. "If something is—marking me, I think I have the right to know why."
His eyes darkened.
"You have the right to stay alive."
My heart skipped.
"That's not the same thing."
"It is for you."
The way he said it—
like it was the only thing that mattered—
made something twist inside my chest.
"Why do you care?" I asked before I could stop myself.
The question hung in the air between us.
Sharp.
Unexpected.
Even to me.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Didn't speak.
Didn't breathe.
And then—
very slowly—
he stepped closer.
Closing the distance completely.
"You really don't understand, do you?" he said softly.
My breath caught.
"Understand what?"
His hand was still around my wrist.
His thumb still resting against my skin.
But now—
his other hand lifted.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Like he was approaching something dangerous.
And then—
he touched my face.
Just barely.
His fingers brushing against my cheek in a way so gentle it didn't feel real.
My entire body went still.
Every thought disappeared.
Every sound faded.
All I could feel—
was him.
"You're the only one it shouldn't have found," he whispered.
My heart started racing.
"Why?"
His eyes searched mine.
And for the first time—
there was something in them that looked almost… conflicted.
Like he was standing on the edge of something.
Something he wasn't supposed to cross.
But wanted to.
"Because," he said quietly,
"you're not supposed to belong to anything like that."
My breath hitched.
"Then what do I belong to?"
The moment the words left my lips—
I knew I shouldn't have asked.
Because something in his expression changed.
Darkened.
Deepened.
His hand on my cheek stilled.
His grip on my wrist tightened just slightly.
And when he spoke—
his voice dropped into something far more dangerous.
"Nothing."
A pause.
Heavy.
Deliberate.
And then—
even softer—
"Or at least…"
His eyes locked onto mine.
Unwavering.
Possessive.
Terrifying in a way that made my heart race faster instead of slower.
"…you shouldn't."
The air between us shifted.
Something unspoken.
Something intense.
Something I didn't know how to name.
But I felt it.
Deep in my chest.
Deep in my bones.
Like a line had just been crossed.
And I didn't even realize when it happened.
Because in that moment—
as his fingers lingered against my skin…
as his gaze held mine like I was something he refused to let go of—
I realized something I wasn't ready to admit.
He wasn't just protecting me.
He was starting to claim me.
And I didn't know if I wanted to stop him.