Chapter 210: Chapter 210: The Claim

THE COLD MARBLE of the hallway felt like a tomb, yet the heat radiating from Grayson as he stood over Mailah was enough to make the air shimmer.

He was a paradox of ice and fire, his gray eyes searching hers for an answer he didn’t even have the question to. He looked at her not with the warmth of a man who had planned to marry her, but with the dark, focused hunger of a predator who had found a rare, glittering stone in the mud and couldn’t decide whether to wear it or crush it.

Slowly, Grayson pulled back, though he didn’t let go of her hand. His fingers were long and cold, his grip possessing. “Lucson,” he called out, his voice snapping the tension like a whip.

Lucson appeared at the top of the stairs, his expression unreadable.

“We are going back to the hotel,” Grayson decreed. He turned his head to look at the dark, sprawling corridors of the villa with a flicker of genuine distaste. “The air in this place is stagnant with the Council’s rot. And the girl… I want her somewhere with fewer prying eyes.”

“The Baur au Lac it is, then,” Carson chimed in, leaning against a suit of armor with a grin that was entirely too bright for the circumstances.

As they began to descend toward the foyer, Mailah felt the weight of the evening pressing down on her. She was a “possession” now. A security risk. A witness. Everything except the woman he loved. She moved to follow Carson, but a movement in the shadows of the grand foyer caught her eye.

Grayson had paused near a tall, narrow window. Standing before him was Vivienne.

The Ashford guardian was a woman of few words and even fewer smiles, but the way she looked at Grayson now was different. It wasn’t just respect; it was a deep, unsettling wariness.

Mailah slowed her pace, lingering behind a heavy velvet curtain.

“You are playing a dangerous game,” Vivienne’s voice was a low rasp.

“I am playing no game, Vivienne,” Grayson replied, his voice flat. He looked out the window at the dark woods of the estate. “I am simply securing my assets.”

“Is that what she is? An asset?” Vivienne stepped closer, her eyes narrowing. “I have known you for a long time. Before your abstinence, you were the coldest of your brothers. The most ruthless. You saw humans as insects to be stepped on. And yet, when you look at that girl, you look… haunted.”

Grayson’s hand, resting on the window frame, tightened until the wood groaned. “I have forgotten the woman, Vivienne. The witch took the memory, and with it, she took the weakness.”

“Did she?” Vivienne’s voice was soft, mocking. “Then why is she still in your care? Why didn’t you hand her over to Vane? He would have made her disappear quite efficiently. You claimed her in front of the Council. You marked her as Ashford territory. That doesn’t sound like a man who has forgotten his weakness. It sounds like a man who is terrified of losing it again.”

Grayson turned on her, his face a mask of sudden, predatory fury. The shadows in the foyer seemed to lengthen, coiling around his feet like snakes. “She is the only key I have to what happened in the parking lot. She is a tool. Nothing more.”

“Tools don’t make you growl when someone looks at them, Grayson,” Vivienne countered. “And they certainly don’t make your pulse jump when they touch you. Be careful. The Council is watching. If they realize that your ’possession’ is actually your heart… they will use her to get to you.”

Grayson didn’t answer. He turned and strode toward the door, his silhouette cutting a jagged path through the moonlight.

Mailah stood frozen behind the curtain, her heart hammering. He’s terrified of losing his weakness again. The words echoed in her mind. Even the version of Grayson who hated humans couldn’t seem to stop his soul from reaching for her.

“Enjoying the eavesdropping, Duchess?” Carson’s voice made her jump. He was standing right behind her, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Don’t worry, Vivienne is always a ray of sunshine. She once told me I’d be more useful as a coat rack than a brother.”

“She thinks he’s in danger because of me,” Mailah whispered.

Carson’s smile faded, replaced by something uncharacteristically solemn. “He is. But he’s also in danger without you. A Grayson without a heart is just a very pretty, very lethal weapon. And we’ve seen enough of those in our realm. Come on. The car is waiting, and I think Grayson is about to bite the driver’s head off if we don’t move.”

The ride back to Zurich was a study in simmering silence.

Grayson sat in the corner of the limousine, his gaze fixed out the window at the passing blur of trees. He looked like a king in exile—powerful, brooding, and dangerously bored. Mailah sat directly across from him, her knees nearly touching his. Every time the car turned, her leg would brush against his tailored trousers, and she could feel the jolt of electricity that followed.

Grayson didn’t move away. In fact, he seemed to lean into the contact, his eyes tracking the movement of her hands as she nervously toyed with the hem of her sweater.

“You’re doing it again,” he said suddenly. His voice was a low, melodic vibration that seemed to bypass her ears and go straight to her skin.

Mailah looked up. “Doing what?”

“Thinking. It’s a loud, frantic sound in this car.” He leaned forward, the shadows of the cabin playing across the sharp angles of his face. “What did Vivienne tell you?”

Mailah blinked, caught off guard. “I… I wasn’t—”

“Don’t lie. It’s beneath you.” Grayson reached out, his hand moving with a speed that made her gasp. He didn’t grab her; he simply rested his fingers on her knee. The coldness of his touch seeped through the fabric of her jeans, making her shiver. “You were listening behind the curtain. What did the old crow say?”

Mailah took a breath, meeting his gray eyes. “She said you were a fool if you thought you could keep me as just a ’possession.’ She said the Council will use me to get to you.”

Grayson’s fingers tightened on her knee, his grip turning bruising. A flash of silver-blue sparked in his pupils, the beast peering through the aristocratic mask. “Let them try. They have forgotten what an Ashford is capable of when someone tries to steal what belongs to him.”

“But I don’t belong to you, Grayson,” Mailah said, her voice trembling but defiant. “I’m not a watch or a car. I’m the woman you were supposed to marry. I’m the person who knows the sound of your real laugh, not this… this cold performance.”

Grayson pulled her forward, his hand sliding from her knee to the back of her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair. He dragged her across the seat until her face was inches from his. The scent of him was intoxicating, making her head spin.

“This isn’t a performance,” he growled, his gaze dropping to her lips. “This is what I am. The man you knew was a dream. This is the reality. I am a monster. I am a creature of hunger and shadow. And right now… my hunger is very, very specific.”

He didn’t kiss her. He lingered there, his breath hot against her mouth, the tension between them so thick it felt like the car might implode.

Mailah reached up, her fingers grazing the silk of his shirt, feeling the frantic, powerful beat of his heart.

“Your heart says you’re lying,” she whispered.

Grayson let her go abruptly, his expression hardening into stone. He sat back in his corner, his eyes turning back to the window. “My heart is a muscle that pumps blood. Nothing more.”

“Sure, and I’m a world-class chef,” Carson chimed in from the front seat, having clearly heard every word. “Anyone want a mint? The tension in here is making my teeth ache.”

The Baur au Lac greeted them with the same silent, five-star indifference as before. They were ushered back up to their suite, the staff moving like ghosts around the group of beautiful, dangerous strangers.

As they stepped into the living area, Lucson turned to Grayson. “I need to coordinate with the local enforcers. We need to ensure the perimeter is secure.”

“Do what you must,” Grayson said, not looking at him. He was staring at Mailah, who was standing by the balcony doors. “I am going to my study. I have files to review.”

“Don’t stay up too late, Gray,” Carson called out, heading toward the kitchen. “Beauty sleep is important when you’re trying to be a brooding anti-hero.”

Grayson ignored him, walking toward the secondary wing of the suite—the one that housed the private study. Mailah watched him go, her heart heavy. She felt like she was watching a man drown in his own shadow.

She spent the next hour trying to distract herself. She tried to sketch, but her hands were too shaky. She tried to read, but the words blurred. Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. She needed to know what he was doing. She needed to see if the “tool” could still find the man.

She walked down the hallway to the study. The door was ajar, a sliver of light spilling onto the carpet. She pushed it open slowly.

Grayson was sitting at a massive mahogany desk, his jacket discarded, his silk shirt unbuttoned at the throat. He wasn’t looking at files. He was staring at a small, velvet-lined box on the desk.

Inside the box was a ring. A simple, elegant band of white gold with a single, brilliant sapphire.

Mailah’s breath hitched. “You found it.”

Grayson didn’t look up. “I found it in the pocket of my coat. It’s enchanted. It carries a resonance. I don’t understand why I have it.”

“It was for me,” Mailah said, stepping into the room. “You were going to give it to me at the wedding.”

Grayson finally looked at her. His gray eyes were shadowed, filled with a confusion that he couldn’t hide. He picked up the ring, turning it over in his long fingers.

“I look at this, and I feel nothing,” he said, his voice a low, hollow rasp. “No memory of the purchase. No memory of the sentiment. And yet… my hand shakes when I hold it.”

He stood up, walking around the desk toward her. He stopped just a foot away, the ring glinting in the lamplight.

“Why do you stay?” he asked. “I have forgotten you. I have treated you like an object. I have threatened you. Any sane human would have run the moment the sigils broke.”

“Because I love you,” Mailah said, her voice steady.

Grayson looked at her for a long, silent moment.

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