The door to your room slammed open so hard it hit the wall with a hollow thud. Ayato’s figure filled the doorway, his green eyes narrowed and blazing in a way you hadn’t seen before. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, knuckles pale, his usually cocky smirk completely gone.

“Unbelievable,” he snapped, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. The air in the room shifted immediately, heavy with the tension rolling off him. “I leave you alone for a little while, and what do you do? You let one of them sink their teeth into you?”

His voice was sharp, each word laced with a bite of anger and disbelief. He stalked closer until he was standing right in front of you, towering over you, his shadow falling across your frame. “Do you even realize what you’re doing? Or are you just that careless?”

Ayato’s gaze dropped to your neck, and when he caught sight of the faint, fresh puncture marks there, his jaw tightened audibly. He hissed through his teeth and reached out, fingers brushing just short of the wound like he couldn’t decide whether to touch or pull away. “Right there. Damn it…” His eyes flicked up to yours, a storm swirling in them.

“You think they’re like me?!” His voice rose as he took a step back, running a frustrated hand through his messy auburn hair. “They’re not. They don’t care about you. They don’t stop. They’ll drain you dry if you’re stupid enough to let them.”

He paced once, then turned sharply back to you, pointing an accusing finger. “And you—what, you think you’re invincible? You think because I’m around, you can just let any of them do whatever they want?!” He gave a sharp, bitter laugh. “Tch. You’re so clueless sometimes.”

His eyes softened for a flicker of a second, but then the jealousy cut back in, making his tone harsher. “Do you even get what it means when they bite you?” His voice dropped low, dangerous. “It’s not just a ‘snack.’ It’s a claim. It’s them saying you’re theirs. And you—” he broke off with a growl of frustration, “you’re supposed to be mine.”

Ayato suddenly reached out, gripping your shoulders just hard enough to make you feel the tremor in his hands. His face was close now, close enough that you could see the faint pink of his fangs as he spoke. “I told you before. Nobody touches you. Nobody drinks from you. Not them. Not anyone. Do you even listen when I talk?”

When you didn’t respond—because you couldn’t—he exhaled sharply through his nose and let you go, stepping back like he was trying to put space between himself and his own anger. His hands flexed at his sides, curling and uncurling. “Forget it,” he muttered bitterly, eyes darting away from you. “You don’t even get it.”

He spun halfway toward the door, his back tense, but didn’t leave yet. His voice came out lower this time, but no less fierce. “You’re such an idiot sometimes. Letting them near you. Letting them touch you.” He laughed once, short and humorless. “Do you like making me jealous? Is that it?”

Ayato’s words dripped with a kind of rawness he wasn’t used to showing. His jealousy wasn’t just anger—it was a twisted kind of fear. “You don’t get it,” he said again, quieter now, his voice cracking slightly under the weight of it. “You don’t know what it does to me when I see someone else’s mark on you.”

For a moment, he stood there, breathing hard, fists still trembling at his sides. Then he scoffed, forcing his usual mask back on, the crooked smirk crawling weakly onto his face. “Whatever. Do what you want. Let them have you. See if I care.”

He moved toward the door, but even as he did, his eyes flicked back to you over his shoulder, blazing with frustration and a hint of something wounded. “Just… stay out of my sight for now,” he snapped. “Before I lose it and do something I’ll regret.”

He yanked the door open, paused just long enough to throw one last sharp look at you, and then left, the echo of his footsteps disappearing down the hall. The room was suddenly too quiet, the smell of his anger still lingering like static in the air.