Are you scared?

Avaris's POV

Mark me? What in the world does that even mean?

I could feel my blood rising as I watched Dyvian and the hooded man, Xaren exchanged words. Dyvian was almost going crazy just like I am.

When Xaren mentioned marking me, I wasn't really sure what he meant. It would not be a huge deal if it was only a mark and if it would free my life from this entanglement.

But the mark Xaren mentioned was me spending the rest of my life with Dyvian as a couple, as his mate. As if being in this mess were not frightening enough, but now I have to endure spending the rest of my life with Dyvian.

I would rather search for death once more than do this.

When did I even get here?

I was seeking death, but instead I encountered him—the demon who granted my sinister desires. But now, we are stuck here.

Or is Dyvian lying?

“Maybe he is your mate,” Xaren remarked, nearly giggling, while observing Dyvian's desperate behavior.

“What mate?” Dyvian almost rolled his eyes.

I wasn't sure they knew I was listening.

“Xaren this is not a joke. If he were my mate, I would have known when we first met,” Dyvian uttered, his frustration evident. “And besides, there has never been any case where a demon and a human become mates.”

Xaren chuckled. He seemed to be enjoying Dyvian's frantic manner more. “You are half human, half demon, Dyvian. You aren't completely a demon. Maybe you should just embrace the situation or will you keep him by your side? If you don't, you can't use your powers.”

Dyvian ruffled his glossy black hair, as if he was stabbed with anxiety in the gut. He subconsciously glanced at me and as our eyes met, I stiffened, my chest growing tight as it became hard to breathe.

I can't tell what he was thinking, but something flashed in his eyes. Anger, worry, hatred… I couldn't tell as he was quick to shift back to his playful demeanor.

I could feel my chest growing tighter.

“Wait, are you scared?” He suddenly asked, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. When I didn't answer, he walked closer. “Little Doll, are you really scared you'd be stuck with me for the rest of your life?”

I twisted my face in anger. “Stop calling me Little Doll, okay? This is not the time for it!” I snapped, the edge of impatience creeping into their tone. “You don't even seem worried. Do you think I want this, to be entangled with you?”

I don't even know why but as I continued speaking, my voice rose and my face was red with rage. Why is he so unbothered about something like this?

He rolled his eyes and let down a chuckle. “You think I want to?” He laughed again, waving his hand in the air. “Let's be sincere here, Little Doll. If not because you summoned me, we wouldn't even be here in the first place!”

Now it's my fault?!

“I didn't summon you,” I shouted, my voice trembling with fury as it surged through my chest. “I was waiting for death. I wanted to die, but you showed up instead.”

My fists were clenched so tightly they ached, and my breathing grew sharp and erratic. “This doesn't even make sense. You said it was impossible for a demon and a human to get entangled until this happened. What if you got it all wrong? Or what if you are lying to me?”

Dyvian looked like he couldn't believe what I was saying. He must have thought I was ungrateful. After all, I had been the one who begged him to burn down Count Windsor’s mansion, to obliterate an entire clan. I’d asked for destruction, and he’d delivered.

But now this.

Guilt pricked at the edges of my rage, making it difficult to keep it in check. His words were true, and I could not dispute that, but the way he delivered them and the way his face grew icy made me shudder.

His playful smirk vanished, replaced by a stoic, unreadable expression as he stepped closer.

“Try walking to the Palace,” he said. “If you don’t die on the road, maybe you’ll find what you’re looking for.”

I was not prepared for how deeply his words struck. His voice had such a cold tone that it made my skin tingle. My anger faltered, giving way to something—fear.

“What?” he scoffed, tilting his head slightly. “You’re not brave anymore?” His laugh was sharp and hollow, and it cut like a blade.

He reached out, his calloused hand brushing against my face. He touched me roughly, and I felt a shock of something I could not identify. “Why don’t you try leaving, Little Doll?” he whispered. “Didn’t you want death? This is the fastest way.”

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat refusing to go down. My chest constricted once more, this time due to feelings attempting to surface.

I clenched my fists, forcing myself to move. Without another word, I turned and stormed away, ignoring the tremble in my hands.

The market was still packed and teeming with activity. My eyes were burning with tears that threatened to spill, but I fought the urge to do so. I began to feel a dull ache deep in my chest, and my steps became slower.

It was tolerable at first, like a slight pull on my heart. But the pain grew worse as I went on. It moved slowly, encircling my ribs like icy tendrils and getting tighter with every breath.

I dragged my feet forward, gasping as the ache turned into an unbearable pain.

“It’s not because of him,” I muttered under my breath, my voice trembling. “It’s not because of him.”

But the pain didn’t care, it hit harder. My vision became blurry, and the market noises subsided into a monotonous hum. My legs felt like they were encased in stone, too heavy to lift.

My knees buckled, and I stumbled, my hands grasping at nothing.

Just as I was about to collapse, a strong arm caught me and held me up with almost unnatural strength. I could smell the sweet, smoky aroma of cider wafting through the fog of pain.

I looked up, dazed and barely able to focus. My breath hitched as

I saw him. Dyvian. Dark smoke coiled around him, just like the first time we met.