Chapter 226: Chapter 226: The Warning

THE DARKNESS in the room felt thick, like it was pressing against Mailah’s skin.

She bolted upright, her breath hitching in a jagged sob. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird.

“Easy there, little bird. You’ll pop a vein.”

Mailah screamed, the sound catching in her dry throat as she scrambled backward. Her back hit the cold headboard, and she pulled the heavy silk duvet up to her chin.

There, sitting casually in the armchair by the dead fireplace, was Mason. He looked entirely too comfortable, one leg crossed over the other, his silver eyes tracking her every move with a spark of amusement.

“What are you doing in here?” she hissed, her voice trembling. “Get out! How did you even get past the guards?”

“I’m an Ashford, Mailah. Guards are for keeping things out, not keeping us in,” Mason said, his voice a smooth, low baritone. He stood up, and the shadows seemed to cling to his shoulders like a cape. “And for the record, I didn’t cause that little show in your head.”

Mailah’s eyes narrowed. The fear was still there, but her suspicion was winning. “How do you know I had a nightmare? I didn’t even say anything.”

Mason took a slow step toward the bed. He didn’t stop until he was close enough. He tilted his head, sniffing the air delicately.

“I’m a nightmare demon, Mailah,” he said, a small, wicked grin playing on his lips. “To me, your fear isn’t just an emotion. It has a scent. Right now, you smell like burnt sugar and cold rain. It’s… delicious. Like opening a window to a fresh bakery at dawn.”

Mailah recoiled, her knuckles white as she gripped the blanket. “You were feeding on me.”

Mason let out a short, dry laugh. He held up his hands in a mock gesture of peace. “Relax. I have standards. My brothers and I have a code, as annoying as it is. We agreed not to feed on Grayson’s mate. It would be like stealing a steak from a tiger’s mouth—messy, dangerous, and honestly? Not worth the drama.”

“I don’t believe you,” Mailah snapped. “You have threatened me before. You told me you’d come into my dreams and take what you wanted.”

Mason’s grin widened. “Ah, that. Sweetheart, I’d say anything to save my brother. If threats make you move faster, I’ll use them. Desperate times call for extreme measures. But between us? Fear tastes better when it’s uninvited.”

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper that made the hair on her arms stand up. “But if I were you, I wouldn’t be worried about the demon in the chair. I’d worry about the one who was in your bed last night.”

Mailah felt a cold shiver run down her spine. “What does that mean?”

“Grayson,” Mason said, his expression turning uncharacteristically serious. “Among the five of us, he’s experienced being the ’good’ one. The one with the most control. But that’s the problem. When a man like that finally snaps, there’s no safety net. He’s a loose cannon now. The lord’s tithe he took from Vane… it didn’t just give him power. It gave him an appetite he hasn’t felt in centuries.”

He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. “He’s the one most likely to feed on you, Mailah. Whether he wants to or not. A hungry predator doesn’t always care if he loves his prey.”

Mailah couldn’t find her voice. The memory of Grayson’s silver eyes—pulsing with that terrifying, beautiful light—flashed in her mind. She remembered the way he had looked at her, like she was the only drop of water in a desert.

Mason stood up straight, the tension breaking as he regained his playful smirk. He tucked his hands into his pockets. “Anyway, I didn’t come here to give you a heart attack. I’m just the messenger. Breakfast is ready, and Grayson is… well, he’s waiting. And he’s not known for his patience this morning.”

Mailah instinctively tightened the blanket around her. She was acutely aware that she was wearing nothing but thin, lace scraps of underwear beneath the heavy duvet. The cool air of the room bit at her bare shoulders.

“I need to freshen up first,” she said, trying to sound more confident than she felt.

Mason nodded, his eyes trailing down to the hand she had clamped over the silk. “Take your time. I’ll be right outside the door. Try not to fall back into any glass forests while you’re at it.”

He turned and walked toward the door, his movements fluid and silent. With a soft click, he was gone.

Mailah didn’t move for a long minute. She stared at the closed door, the silence of the room suddenly feeling heavy.

She threw off the covers and hurried to the bathroom. The marble floor was ice-cold against her bare feet. She turned on the shower, letting the steam fill the room until the mirrors were clouded with white mist.

As she stood under the hot spray, she tried to wash away the feeling of Mason’s eyes on her, and the ghost of Grayson’s touch. Her mind was a mess. Who was she supposed to trust? Carson had saved her, but he was a demon. Mason was a nightmare, literally. And Grayson…

She closed her eyes, letting the water hit her face. Grayson had called her his queen, then treated her like a burden. He had looked at her with such raw desire it had made her blood sing, then turned cold as stone.

He’s a loose cannon.

The words haunted her. She stepped out of the shower and wiped a circle in the fogged-up mirror. Her reflection looked different. There was a flush to her cheeks that wasn’t just from the heat. Her eyes looked brighter, wider.

She looked like someone who was starting to belong in this world of monsters. And that terrified her more than any nightmare.

She dressed quickly in a simple, high-necked velvet dress someone had left out on top of her suitcase. It was a deep emerald green that made her skin look like porcelain. She took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and opened the bedroom door.

Mason was leaning against the opposite wall, tossing a small silver coin into the air and catching it. He looked up and whistled low.

“Better,” he said. “You look less like a ghost and more like a girl who’s about to walk into a lion’s den.”

“Is it always this dramatic with you people?” Mailah asked, walking past him.

“Mailah,” Mason said, falling into step beside her, “we’ve been alive for hundreds of years. Drama is the only thing that keeps us from falling asleep forever. Now, let’s go. Grayson is probably staring at a piece of toast like he’s planning to execute it.”

The dining hall was vast, filled with the scent of coffee, expensive tobacco, and something metallic that Mailah couldn’t quite place.

Grayson sat at the long table. He was dressed in a crisp black suit, his hair perfectly swept back. He looked every bit the noble lord, but as Mailah approached, she saw the way his fingers gripped his coffee cup. His knuckles were white.

He didn’t look up when she sat down.

“You’re late,” he said. His voice was cold, lacking the gravelly warmth from the night before.

“I had a chat with your brother,” Mailah replied, glancing at Mason, who took a seat and immediately began piling bacon onto his plate.

Grayson’s eyes flicked to Mason, a flash of silver sparking in the depths of his pupils. “Did you now?”

“Just checking on our guest, Gray,” Mason said through a mouthful of food. “She was having a bit of a rough night. Nightmare demons have a duty to respond to such things, you know. It’s a public service.”

The air in the room suddenly felt very thin. Grayson set his cup down with a sharp clink. He looked at Mailah, his gaze scanning her face, her neck, and then settling on her eyes.

“Is that so?” Grayson asked.

Mailah met his gaze, refusing to look away. “He told me I should be more afraid of you than him.”

Carson, who had been sitting quietly at the far end of the table, choked on his orange juice. He let out a loud, bark-like laugh. “Well, he’s not wrong! Grayson hasn’t been this grumpy since the exile. I think it’s the lack of sleep. Or the lack of… other things.”

Grayson didn’t laugh. He leaned forward, his shadow stretching across the table toward Mailah.

“Mason talks too much,” Grayson said, his voice a low hum. “But he’s right about one thing.”

He reached out, his hand hovering near hers on the table. Mailah didn’t pull away. She felt the heat radiating from him, that same predatory warmth that had almost consumed her the night before.

“Are you going to feed on me, Grayson?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

The table went silent. Mason stopped chewing. Carson put down his glass. Lucson and Ravenson chewed uncharacteristically slow.

Grayson’s eyes turned a brilliant, pulsing silver. He looked at her lips, then back to her eyes. A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face—one that was both terrifying and heart-stoppingly handsome.

“I haven’t decided yet,” he murmured. “But I’d suggest you eat your breakfast, Mailah. You’ll need your strength for what comes next.”

“And what’s that?” she asked, her heart racing.

Grayson stood up, towering over her. He leaned down, his breath warm against her ear. “We’re going to have the next event of this Gala. It’s time you learned exactly what kind of monster you’ve tethered your soul to.”

He pulled back, giving her one last, lingering look that made her knees feel weak, before turning and walking out of the hall.

Mailah sat there, stunned, taking them in one by one—Mason grinning, Carson shaking his head, Ravenson watching her without blinking, Lucson rolling his eyes.

“Well,” Carson said, reaching for a muffin. “You should dress appropriately then.”

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