Chapter 33

Athasia's vision sharpened instantly. The haze that had clouded her mind evaporated like smoke, and the first thing she saw was Mira's intense expression.

"Look," Mira hissed, shoving a compact mirror into her hands.

Athasia took it, her fingers still slightly trembling from whatever the hell that was, and tilted it towards her neck.

Her breath hitched.

There—on her flawless, pale skin—was a rose.

Dark crimson, delicate yet eerily vivid, as if the petals were made from her own blood. The eerie glow that pulsed beneath her skin made it look alive, like it was rooted into her very being.

Her green eyes snapped to Zamiel.

"What did you do?"

Her voice was deathly calm, but the lethal edge was unmistakable.

Zamiel leaned back in his seat, completely unbothered, as he lazily traced a finger over her mark. The glowing rose flared in response, sending a small shiver through her spine.

"Marked you," he murmured, his tone carrying the weight of something final.

Athasia's grip on the mirror tightened. Marked?

Her heart pounded violently in her chest, a mix of confusion, anger, and something she didn't want to name boiling inside her.

Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Why?"

Zamiel's smirk deepened, his gray eyes gleaming with an emotion too complex to decipher.

"From the first day I saw you," he began, tilting his head as he gazed at her like she was the only thing that existed in his world. "When you responded to my touch…"

His fingers brushed over the mark again, and Athasia's body betrayed her. A shiver ran through her against her will.

"The first time you…" Zamiel trailed off, his smirk turning predatory as he leaned closer, his lips nearly brushing against her ear.

"The first time you came apart because of me."

Mira gasped audibly, nearly choking on air.

Athasia's entire soul left her body.

Zamiel exhaled slowly, his breath warm against her sensitive skin. "I already made you mine." His fingers slid from her neck to her wrist, his grip tightening slightly as he whispered, "All that remained… was marking you."

Silence.

The weight of his words hung heavily in the air.

Athasia's blood ran cold.

Her body moved before her mind.

With a sharp, deadly glare, she grabbed him by the tie, yanked him forward, and whispered—dangerously soft, deadly like a blade pressed to the throat—

"…Do you wish to die?"