My Ex Is A Vampire Who Can't Forget Me

A Mark She Can't Explain

The rain had slowed to a drizzle by the time they left the café, leaving the streets slick and glimmering under the pale glow of streetlights. Steam rose from drains, curling into the damp night

air, mixing with the faint smell of wet asphalt and roasted coffee. Lira walked beside Arian in silence, the space between them heavy with unspoken words.

He hadn't touched her once. Not her shoulder, not her hand, not even a glance that lingered too long. And somehow, that made her ache more than anything else — the restraint, the invisible barrier

that had grown between them over the years, now sharpened by the dangers lurking in the shadows.

The city felt surreal, unreal — like a painting come to life, colors bleeding into one another in streaks of neon and rain. Lira felt as if she were walking through a dream, the kind that clings long after you wake, when every sound and scent feels sharper than reality.

They stopped at the corner near her apartment. She pulled her coat tighter around her, though it was already soaked. "I'm not letting you in," she said, the words firm, but her voice betrayed

hesitation.

"I know," he replied quietly, his crimson eyes fixed ahead, avoiding hers.

"But you're not leaving me alone, either," she said, her hands balling into fists at her sides.

"No," he admitted simply.

They stood there in awkward silence; a gulf of years stretched between them. She remembered the last time she had seen him — pressed against her bedroom wall, laughing through kisses, the

world falling away around them. That intimacy, that reckless, consuming love, felt like a lifetime ago. Now, they were strangers again, bound by something darker, something that neither of them

fully understood.

She let out a frustrated sigh. "You're not even going to try to win me back, are you?"

His eyes softened, just slightly, a flicker of vulnerability passing through them. "Lira — I never stopped loving you," he said. "But I didn't come back for that."

"Then why?" Her voice trembled with a mix of anger, confusion, and longing.

He took a step closer, the movement deliberate, the air around him seeming to grow colder, sharper. His voice dropped to a low, steady whisper. "Because you're in danger."

That night, sleep eluded her.

Not because of fear — though a part of her trembled at the thought of what Arian had said, of what lurked in the shadows — but because the past kept crashing into the present. Memories of him,

vivid and relentless, clashed with the reality of what she had seen tonight. His voice, low and haunting. His touch — or rather, the absence of it. His eyes, red and impossibly deep, watching her

like she was the only thing that mattered in the world. She lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling, mind racing, pulse hammering. Every small sound from

the street outside — the creak of a fire escape, the faint whisper of tires on wet asphalt — made her start.

At 3:27 a.m., a strange sensation made her sit upright in bed. Her skin itched, just beneath her collarbone, an almost imperceptible heat radiating from the spot. Her hand shot instinctively to the

edge of her T-shirt, pulling it down to reveal a mark that made her gasp.

A symbol. Faint, but glowing. Curved and intricate, as if etched with starlight itself. It pulsed softly, almost like it had a heartbeat of its own.

She stepped back from the mirror, breath catching in her throat. Her reflection stared back at her,

wide-eyed and pale in the dim glow of the bedside lamp.

"What the hell," she whispered, her voice trembling.

Her mind raced. Had she imagined it? Could it be some trick of the light? But the warmth radiating from the mark, the way it pulsed faintly as if alive, told her this was no illusion. She traced a finger along the delicate lines, and a shiver ran through her spine.

Her thoughts spun into chaos. Why now? Why her? And more importantly — what did it mean?

The next morning, she didn't go to class. The thought of pretending to be normal, to sit in a classroom while this mark throbbed beneath her skin, was unbearable. She pulled on a loose sweater that hid the symbol as best as it could and grabbed her phone. Her fingers hovered over the screen

before she typed a message she couldn't delay sending.

We need to talk. Now.

Minutes later, Arian appeared at her door, as if he had been waiting nearby all night. She didn't greet him. She didn't offer a smile. Instead, she pulled down her sweater just enough to reveal the

glowing mark beneath her collarbone.

Arian froze, a flicker of something unreadable passing over his sharp features. And then he paled — which, considering his already unnatural complexion, was a feat in itself.

"Where did this come from?" he asked, stepping closer, voice low and controlled, but tight with

tension.

"I woke up with it," she replied, her own voice trembling. "What does it mean?"

He studied her carefully, crimson eyes narrowing slightly. "It means you're not just being hunted — you've been chosen."

"Chosen for what?" Her heart beat faster.

He hesitated, as though searching for the right words, then finally said, "A blood bond."

Lira blinked, confusion and fear warring inside her. "What?"

Arian swallowed hard, his jaw tightening. "Someone tried to bind you. Not just to any vampire — to themselves. It's like a magical engagement. A claim."

Her pulse spiked. "And how do you know this?"

He met her gaze steadily, crimson eyes flickering with memory and regret. "Because I remember that mark. I had one — before I turned."

Lira's mind refused to quiet itself. "You're saying someone — wants me," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"Yes," he said simply. "And it's not just anyone. They want to claim you, bind you, make you theirs. And once that happens, it's not something you can walk away from."

Her hands shook as she brought them to the mark, fingers brushing the glowing lines. "Why me?

I'm — I'm not special. I'm just — me."

"You are special," Arian said, almost fiercely. "More than you know. That mark — it chose you for a reason. And if it isn't stopped, if they succeed — you could be trapped forever."

The weight of his words pressed down on her, heavy and suffocating. "And me — what about you?" she asked, almost daring him to lie, to tell her she would be safe without him. "Can you stop them?"

Arian's expression softened, but the edge in his eyes didn't fade. "I can try. But I can't do it alone.

I need you to trust me, even if you don't want to."

Her chest tightened. Trusting him had once been effortless. Falling for him had been as natural as breathing. But after two years of absence, after nights spent wondering why he had disappeared,

trusting him felt like walking a tightrope over a pit of fire.

"I don't know if I can," she admitted, voice breaking.

"You can," he said, stepping closer, just enough that she could feel the heat of him, the otherworldly energy radiating from his being. "Because you've always been stronger than you think. And because — I'm not leaving you."

She swallowed hard, the truth of his words sinking into her bones. The mark pulsed again, and she realized it wasn't just a warning — it was a bond, a connection, a tether pulling her and him

together. Whether she wanted it or not, her life had changed forever.

Outside, the city buzzed with the mundane rhythm of morning. But inside that apartment, time seemed suspended. Arian's presence, the mark, the danger looming in the shadows — all of it collided into one undeniable truth: her world had just become something darker, something she couldn't escape.

And yet, even in that darkness, she felt the familiar ache of longing — for him, for the past, for something that had never truly left.