IRYNA
I sat quietly, watching my mother and Ciara move around the living room with the event planner, their voices overlapping in a steady stream of excitement and decisions. Swatches of fabric, colour palettes, and scribbled notes were scattered across the table like evidence of a storm that had already passed—and was still passing.
Tomorrow was the wedding.
One single day away.
And somehow—impossibly—everything had already fallen into place.
With no extended family to lean on, no aunts or cousins to call for help, it had come down to just the three of them: my mother, Ciara, and the planner. They moved with a surprising, almost military efficiency, crossing items off invisible lists, making decisions in seconds that would have taken me hours. Earlier, I had tried to stay involved. I really had. I'd offered opinions, nodded at choices, even held up two nearly identical shades of ribbon to compare them under the light. But at some point the effort had simply bled out of me, and I'd drifted—quietly, invisibly—into the background.
"Iryna, what do you think about blue for the guests' dresses?" my mother asked suddenly, her voice cutting cleanly through my haze. She turned toward me, expectant. "Do you think Darien would like it?"
I straightened a little in the chair, forcing myself back into the room.
"Um…" I cleared my throat, the sound small and rough. "Darien wouldn't mind. Blue is fine. It matches the theme."
She smiled, satisfied, and turned back to the planner. I let my shoulders sag again.
Dammit, I was bored out of my mind.
Last night had been brutal. Sharp, twisting pain had clawed through my abdomen for hours, stealing any chance of real sleep. I knew exactly what would have ended it in seconds: one deliberate thought, one silent summons to him. But I refused. I let the agony roll over me in waves, gritting my teeth until—eventually—it receded on its own. He had told me I didn't need a phone to call him. All it took was intent. A plea directed at him.
Never.
He could sense my pain; that much I knew. If he wanted to come to me, he could damn well do it without me begging. I was still furious with him anyway. After what happened in the elevator, he hadn't reached out once. Not a word. What had I even expected from someone like him?
My thoughts drifted to the stranger from yesterday instead. I'd checked my phone obsessively after getting home, hoping for a message about the movie. Nothing. Maybe he'd lost interest. Or maybe he'd somehow figured out I wasn't really single, despite what I'd said. No—he couldn't have. Could he? And did I just say I wasn't single? I must be out of my mind.
Just then, my phone buzzed against my thigh. I fished it out quickly, half-expecting another polite "congratulations" from the work group chat.
Unknown number.
[Hey beauty. Did you decide what day to lend me yet?]
A stupid, sheepish smile spread across my face before I could stop it.
He'd texted.
My thumbs hovered over the keyboard. I started to type that I was free tomorrow—then froze. Tomorrow I was getting married. Oh crap.
I exhaled slowly and tapped out a different reply instead: the day after.
His response came almost immediately.
[Alright. I'm looking forward to that day. Can I come pick you up?]
Such a gentleman. The small courtesy warmed something inside me. I smiled again as I typed back.
Me: [No, you don't have to. I'll come on my own.]
[Alright then. Have a great evening. I'll text you later?]
I nodded to myself like an idiot before answering.
[Sure.]
"Alright!"
Ciara's voice snapped me back to reality.
"We should head to the designer's place now, Iryna," she said excitedly. "Your dress is ready."
My head snapped up.
"Already?" I asked, eyes widening. "We just went there yesterday. You sent my measurements in the afternoon."
She nodded eagerly.
"It's a VIP order. Of course they rushed it. Come on—I really want to see it."
I let out a tired sigh, pushing myself up.
"You're more excited than me," I muttered. "I'm the one getting married."
My mother laughed softly.
"Of course she's excited," she said warmly. "Now go on. I can't wait to see you in your dress. Is Darien coming with you?"
I shook my head quickly.
"No—no. He shouldn't see it yet."
She nodded in agreement.
"Yes, that's right. Alright, you two go. I'll finish things here."
I gave a small nod, then pushed myself upright and trudged toward my bedroom to change. My feet felt heavy, reluctant. I closed the door behind me, crossed to the closet, and reached for something casual—when movement flickered in the mirror.
A dark figure sat motionless on the edge of my bed.
"Ah!" I yelped, spinning around.
The fear dissolved and was replaced with irritation the instant I recognized him.
Dark.
He stared at me with flat, faintly irritated eyes, as though I were the unwelcomed interruption.
"What are you doing here?" I demanded.
"Why shouldn't I be here?" He rose slowly, unfolding his long frame from the bed.
I swallowed and took an instinctive step back. "Don't… don't come any closer."
He scoffed softly and kept walking toward me anyway.
I swallowed, instinctively stepping back.
"Don't… don't come closer."
He scoffed. And kept walking. Of course he did.
I retreated until my spine met the wall. Before I could dart sideways, his hand shot out. He caught me, tugged me forward, and pressed me flush against his chest. One arm banded around my waist; the other slid up to wrap loosely around my throat—not choking, just holding.
My eyes flew wide. Was this it? Had he finally grown tired of the game and decided to finish me himself? I braced for the squeeze. It never came. He simply held me there, studying my face.
"What?" I managed, voice thin. "Struck by my beauty?"
He let out a low, derisive sound, as though the idea were laughable. Then his gaze dropped to my lips.
"You were in pain last night," he said quietly.
I forced a grin. "Yes, I was. But I survived it. I didn't need you."
A dark chuckle rumbled in his chest. "Oh, really? Is that what you think?" He leaned in until his mouth brushed the shell of my ear. "But you called for me."
I narrowed my eyes. "That's a lie. I didn't. The pain eventually stopped on its own. I only slept for about two hours before I woke up this morning."
His smirk deepened. "No, little mortal. You called for me. Right before you passed out, you begged. And I came. That's what you mistook for simply falling asleep."
Anger surged hot in my chest. I… begged? The pain had been vicious—almost as bad as what I'd felt at his strange not-quite-human place—but I'd fought so hard not to give in. I hadn't wanted to hand him that victory. And yet…
The faint, treacherous memory of last night surfaced. Gasping, clutching my stomach, trying not to wake my mother. Painkillers that only seemed to make it worse. My vision blurring at the edges. And then, in a broken whisper I'd barely registered:
"Dark… please… make it stop."
Damn it, Iryna.
I glared up at him. "So you knew I was in pain and you just… waited until I called for you?"
"My little mortal is quite intelligent," he murmured, the praise laced with mockery.
"You're an asshole."
"Music to my ears."
"Let me go!" I twisted against his hold. Useless.
He didn't release me. Instead he asked, voice suddenly serious, "Now tell me, little mortal. Did you meet anyone recently?"
My entire body went rigid. Oh no. No, no, no. Had he been watching? Had he already found out?
I forced my voice steady. "Um… no? Why?"
"You didn't meet anyone?" he pressed. "Man, woman—someone who seemed too perfect to be true?"
Too perfect to be true. My stomach dropped. Did he know? I was allowed to talk to people. I shouldn't have to be afraid of an innocent stranger getting dragged into this nightmare.
"Uh… no. Why are you asking?"
He didn't answer. He only smiled—that slow, dangerous smile that never reached his eyes.
"I just need to make sure you're safe."
I stared at him. If I hadn't known exactly what he was capable of, if I hadn't seen the cold calculation behind every word, I might have believed the concern was real.
"Your anchor is safe," I said tightly. "Don't worry."
His grin widened. Then, slowly, he slid the hand from my throat and wrapped it around my waist too, drawing me impossibly closer.
"I want to take you somewhere," he said. "There's something I want to show you."
I searched his eyes—those striking, inhuman eyes—and felt my pulse stutter. Why did someone so cruel have to be so devastatingly beautiful?
"Why should I go anywhere with you?" I countered. "I don't want to see it."
He exhaled through his nose. "Don't be difficult, Iryna. You'll like it."
I scoffed. "And since when do you care what I like? I thought you said you didn't care about me."
He held my gaze for a long beat, then sighed.
"I will not take back what I said in the elevator, little mortal. It was the truth. I'm brutally honest. Isn't that better than feeding you sweet lies?"
The words stung because they were accurate—and because part of me hated how much I wished he would lie. Just once. Pretend to be kind. Pretend to care.
"Well, if you meant them, then stick to them," I snapped. "No need to drag me somewhere I might actually enjoy."
He looked genuinely perplexed. "What exactly is the problem? Why are you upset?"
I stared at him in disbelief. "Are you seriously asking me that?"
"Yes." He tilted his head, watching me with real curiosity. "Tell me. I want to know. You're being more difficult than usual, and it's because you're upset. I don't like it."
"You don't like what?"
"I don't like you being upset," he said softly.
The sincerity in his voice was so convincing it hurt. How could someone say something so hollow with such quiet conviction? He was the most maddening, contradictory creature I had ever encountered—and I had no idea how to untangle him. I wasn't even sure I wanted to.
"Come with me, little mortal," he murmured. "Let's not fight. Just for a little while."
My heart gave a traitorous lurch. Before I could talk myself out of it, I nodded.
"Okay."
Fuck my soft heart.