IRYNA
The boutique fell into a silence so complete it almost felt staged.
The soft rustle of fabrics stopped. The quiet murmur between assistants disappeared. Even the faint instrumental music playing somewhere overhead seemed to fade into the background. Every single person in the room was looking at him.
Of course they were.
Dark didn't simply walk into a room. He occupied it—like gravity had shifted and everything naturally revolved around him. His arm was still wrapped around my waist, firm and unyielding, pulling me against his chest as though the space beside him belonged to him as much as breathing did.
The designer recovered first..Her posture straightened, professional composure sliding smoothly back into place.
"How may I assist you, sir?"
Dark slipped something from his pocket—a sleek black credit card that gleamed under the boutique lights—and held it between two fingers.
"Make the dress," he said calmly.
His voice was smooth, deep, and far too confident for a man who had just barged into a bridal shop like he owned the place.
The designer nodded politely. "Of course."
"But," he continued, his gaze flicking briefly to me before returning to her, "not just any dress."
The room leaned into his words without realizing it.
"Create something no human woman has worn before," he said. "Something worthy of a king's wife."
For a moment I genuinely wondered if I had hallucinated the sentence. Slowly—very slowly—I turned my head to stare up at him. King's wife? Was he serious right now? I nudged him sharply in the ribs and leaned closer so only he could hear me.
"How the hell do you even have that card?" I whispered harshly. "How do you have money?"
Dark didn't even bother looking down at me. Instead, a slow, smug smile curved across his lips.
"I can obtain whatever I desire, little mortal," he murmured. His voice dropped slightly, laced with dangerous amusement. "I am very dangerous, you know."
I stared at him flatly.
"I see." Then I tilted my head, eyes narrowing just a little. "So why couldn't you obtain your own anchor?"
The effect was immediate. His smile disappeared. Not faded—vanished. For a split second his expression hardened into something darker, something colder. And I couldn't help it. A small, victorious grin spread across my face.
Score one for the fragile human.
The designer cleared her throat delicately, clearly deciding it was safer to redirect the conversation.
"The design she selected has been done before," she said carefully, gesturing toward the dress I had pointed out earlier. "However, we can modify it. Adjust the structure, change the lace pattern, introduce different embellishments—"
Dark nodded once.
"Use the design she wanted," he said. "But make it different. Something no other woman will ever wear."
The designer smiled, clearly pleased with the challenge.
"Of course, sir. We'll begin working on it immediately."
Dark's gaze shifted lazily across the room until it landed on Ciara. Then he pointed at her.
"Inform her of the cost, so she'll communicate it to me."
Ciara blinked.
"Me?"
Her head snapped around like she was checking if there was another Ciara standing behind her.
"Me…?" she repeated faintly. "Wait—why me?"
I crossed my arms, unimpressed.
"Because he knows I wouldn't tell him anything if it were up to me."
Dark's lips curved again.
"My wife is very intelligent."
"I am not your wife," I muttered through my teeth.
He ignored me completely and looked back at Ciara.
"You'll do that, correct?"
Ciara's throat bobbed nervously.
"Ye—yes," she said quickly.
I shot her a sharp look. Of course she would agree. She was practically vibrating with excitement just doing this whole marriage thing.
Traitor.
Ciara hurried toward the designer, the two of them already discussing fabrics, deadlines, and measurements as they exchanged contact details. Dark casually extended the black card toward her.
"Here," he said. "Any additional expenses—handle them with this."
Ciara's eyes widened so dramatically they looked like they might fall out of her face. She reached for the card slowly, reverently—but before she could touch it, I snatched it out of the air.
"No."
Both of them turned toward me.
"She will do no such thing," I said firmly, gripping the card. "I'll be handling part of the payment."
Dark exhaled slowly, like a man trying very hard not to lose his patience.
"Woman," he said. The single word was filled with weary tolerance. "Why don't you sit down and allow the man to handle the expenses?"
He leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice.
"I proposed to you. Not the other way around."
Ciara clasped her hands together dramatically before she whispered to me. "Oh my God, this is so cute."
I glared at her.
"He's even better than those boring human men," she continued breathlessly. "Rich, mysterious, dangerous—" She sighed dreamily. "Oh to be loved like this."
"Shut up, Ciara. You are not helping," I muttered.
Then I turned back to Dark.
"You cannot just throw money around like that."
Suspicion crept into my voice.
"Wait. Is that even your money?" My eyes narrowed. "Did you illegally take someone's card?"
He looked offended. Genuinely offended.
"I would never stoop so low, Iryna." His gaze sharpened slightly. "You truly underestimate me."
His voice dropped into that calm, arrogant tone that always made my blood pressure rise.
"How difficult do you think it is to gain unlimited access to human currency?"
I opened my mouth— Then closed it again. Because… unfortunately… he had a point. The man lived in a mansion that literally did not exist in the human world.
He could manipulate reality. Of course accessing bank systems or accounts would be child's play for him. Money meant absolutely nothing to him.
Meanwhile…
I struggled to make rent most months, that I even had to move in with my mother. Something ugly twisted in my chest.
"You know what?" I muttered.
I shoved the card back against his chest.
"Do whatever you want."
I stepped away from him.
"I don't care."
Dark didn't respond.
"I don't care about you," I continued, my voice sharper now. "I don't care about this stupid wedding."
The frustration spilled out before I could stop it.
"I don't care about your stupid money. I don't care about whatever the hell you do." My chest rose and fell unevenly. "Let's just finish this as quickly as possible so I can finally get rid of you."
I threw the card at him. Then I turned and walked straight out of the boutique.
Behind me, I heard Ciara gasp.
"Iryna! Wait!"
Her footsteps rushed after me as I marched toward the elevators, pressing the button repeatedly.
"Iryna, slow down!" she said breathlessly, catching up.
She grabbed my arm.
"Why are you leaving? I don't see anything wrong!"
I kept staring at the elevator doors.
"He forced this wedding on you," she continued. "It's normal he pays for it. Don't forget why you agreed to do this, Iryna."
I pressed the button again. And again. And again. The doors finally slid open. I stepped inside. But just as Ciara moved to follow— Something blurred past her.
A shadow. Fast. Too fast. Ciara gasped as something brushed past her shoulder and slipped into the elevator beside me. The shape twisted.
Dark.
He winked at Ciara. Then the doors slid shut. My eyes widened.
"You bastard!" I hissed. "There are cameras here! Do you want to raise suspicion?"
Slowly, he turned toward me. His eyes were no longer blue. They were blood red. Before I could react, he grabbed my wrists and slammed them above my head against the elevator wall. The metal panel was cold against my back. Fear shot through me instantly. His anger radiated off him like heat. My heart pounded violently in my chest.
If he didn't normally feel emotions… then what was this? What happened when something like him actually got angry?
"Tell me something," he said quietly.
His voice was calm. Too calm.
"What was it you said, little mortal?" His grip tightened. "You don't care about me?"
A cruel smile curved his lips.
"Well, that works out perfectly." His eyes burned into mine. "Because I don't care about you either."
My breath caught.
"I am only concerned about the anchor buried inside you." His gaze hardened. "You don't care about this wedding?"
He let out a humorless chuckle.
"Do I look like I care? You know exactly why it's necessary."
My chest tightened painfully.
"You don't care about my money?" he continued softly. To hell with human money." His lips curled slightly. "I could do whatever I want without it."
His voice darkened.
"But I doubt you would enjoy that and I do not want cause unnecessary attentions."
My pulse thundered in my ears.
"You don't care about whatever I do?" He leaned closer. "Are you sure about that, little mortal?"
I swallowed hard.
"You want to get rid of me quickly?" His smile turned cold. "I should be the one saying that."
His gaze sharpened.
"When I should be dealing with matters that actually matter—" He gestured toward me. "—I'm stuck babysitting a fragile human."
The words hit harder than they should have.
"And wasting my time marrying her," he continued, voice icy, "just to retrieve something that already belongs to me."
My vision blurred.
"So," he finished quietly. "I cannot wait to get what's mine and be done with you."
My chest ached.
"Do you understand?" His voice sharpened. "Stop making this difficult so this can end quickly."
A bitter smile touched his lips.
"Because your time is running out. And I don't have the patience to keep pretending to be a polite human for your mother forever."
Tears filled my eyes before I could stop them. I hadn't expected the words to hurt. But they did. They hurt far more than they should have. Of course this was about the anchor. It had always been about the anchor. Nothing else mattered. My tears slid down my cheeks as I stared at him.
"I hate you," I whispered. My voice trembled. "I hate you so much."
My chest felt tight.
"My entire life became a nightmare because of you." Another tear fell. "I never wanted this."
My voice cracked.
"I never wanted to live like this… counting how many days I have left." I swallowed hard. "I'm exhausted." My hands trembled. "And you make everything worse."
Another tear slipped free.
"I don't like you at all, Dark."
For a long moment… He said nothing. Slowly, the red in his eyes faded. Blue returned. Beautiful. Cold.
The elevator doors slid open. The second his grip loosened, I shoved him away and ran out.
"Iryna!"
Ciara rushed toward me from the stairwell, grabbing my shoulders. But I barely heard her. Because my chest still hurt. And for some reason… So did my heart.