Chapter 256: Chapter 256: The Dream Villa

“HE IS STILL HUNGRY.”

The voice didn’t just speak; it felt like a cold hand reaching through Mailah’s chest.

Grayson’s face changed instantly. The warmth she had just managed to bring back to his eyes was sucked away, replaced by a color so dark it was almost black.

His grip on her waist tightened, but it wasn’t a hug anymore. It was a lock.

“He is still hungry,” the voice hissed again, the sound coming from the rotting trees that were now closing in.

Mailah felt the panic rise in her throat. She looked at Grayson, and for a second, she saw the cold man from the library who viewed her as a battery.

He was staring into the darkness, his jaw set, his body ready to give in to that terrible hunger.

“No,” Mailah whispered. “Not this time.”

She did the only thing she could think of.

She grabbed Grayson’s hand. His skin was turning cold again.

She didn’t wait for him to agree. She didn’t wait for the shadow to arrive. She shut her eyes tight and thought of the one place where she had felt loved by Grayson in the past.

Italy.

The sun. The smell of lemons.

The way the wind felt coming off the hills in Tuscany.

“Come with me!” she shouted.

She felt a violent tug, like being pulled through a straw.

Grayson let out a sharp gasp of surprise. He wasn’t the one leading. He wasn’t the one in control.

When the world stopped spinning, the smell of burning silk was gone.

Instead, the air was sweet and heavy with the scent of blooming jasmine and citrus.

The ground beneath her feet wasn’t rotting grass; it was warm, sun-baked terracotta tile.

Mailah opened her eyes.

They were standing on the wide, stone balcony of the villa. Below them, the hills of Tuscany rolled out like a green velvet blanket under a golden afternoon sun.

The sky was a blue so bright it hurt to look at.

She let go of Grayson’s hand, her heart nearly thudding out of her chest. “Is it… did it work?”

Grayson was leaning against the stone railing, looking like he’d been hit by a truck.

He was staring at the villa, then at his own hands, then at Mailah.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked. His voice was breathless, stripped of its regal armor.

“I… I was running,” Mailah said, her hands shaking.

She looked around, realizing the detail was perfect. She could see the tiny chip in the stone planter she’d hit with her suitcase. She could see the way the sunlight caught the dust in the air. “I thought of the villa in Tuscany. I just wanted to go back.”

Grayson straightened up, walking toward her with a slow, deliberate pace. “This is your imagination, Mailah. You’re building a world inside a dream. Do you think you can escape?”

“I didn’t think about that,” she said, backing up until her heels hit the stucco wall of the villa. “I just didn’t want that darkness to take you.”

Grayson stopped just inches from her. He looked down at her, his eyes scanning her face as if he were trying to read a map. Then, his gaze dropped lower, and his eyebrows shot up.

“And you decided to bring us here… in those?”

Mailah looked down.

She had forgotten. In her mind, she had been the brave hero, but in the dream, she was still wearing her twin sister’s giant, faded t-shirt with a cartoon cat on it and cotton leggings that were a little too short at the ankles.

“Oh, shut up,” she muttered, her face turning bright red. “It’s a dream. I didn’t have time to put on a ballgown.”

Grayson let out a sound—not a laugh, but something close to it. It was a huff of disbelief. “You are the only person in history who would kidnap a demon and bring him to a villa while wearing… is that a cat eating a taco on your shirt?”

“It’s a ’Tacocat.’ It’s a palindrome,” Mailah snapped, though her heart was starting to settle. “And I didn’t kidnap you. I saved you.”

Grayson’s expression turned serious again. The humor vanished, replaced by that heavy, magnetic tension that always seemed to pull them together.

He reached out, pinning her against the wall by placing his hands on either side of her head.

“You can’t just run away, Mailah,” he whispered. His voice was like velvet over gravel. “You can’t escape what I am. You can change the scenery, you can build a house, but the hunger is still here.”

He leaned in closer, his nose brushing against hers. “I can feel your heart beating against the wall. I can feel the life in you. It’s louder than the sun. It’s brighter than this whole villa you’ve made.”

Mailah didn’t flinch.

She looked up into those eyes, seeing the struggle there. The Prince wanted to take, but the man—the one from the photo—was drowning in her.

“Then go ahead and get it over with,” she said, her voice a soft challenge. “I’m not running anymore, Grayson. I brought you here so you wouldn’t have to be a monster to feed. If you’re hungry, be hungry for me. Not for ’essence.’ For me.”

Grayson’s eyes darkened. It was the dark, heavy heat of a man who had been starving for something he couldn’t name.

“You’re a peculiar woman, Mailah,” he murmured.

He didn’t wait for another word. He crashed his lips against hers.

It wasn’t a sweet kiss. It was a collision.

It was desperate and hot, tasting of lemons and magic and a summer that had been stolen from them.

Mailah’s hands flew to his chest, bunching the fabric of his white shirt, pulling him closer until there was no air left between them.

In the dream, every sensation was turned up to a hundred.

The warmth of the sun on her skin, the rough stone of the villa against her back, and the electric, searing heat of Grayson’s mouth.

He groaned into the kiss, his hands moving from the wall to her waist, lifting her until her feet dangled off the ground.

He kissed her as if he were trying to memorize the taste of her soul.

Mailah felt a surge of energy—a bright, golden light that started in her chest and flowed into him.

It wasn’t the draining pull from the ballroom. It was a gift. She was giving him her strength, her love, her memories of Tuscany, and she was doing it because she wanted to.

Grayson pulled back for a second. His breathing was ragged. “Mailah… stop. You’re giving too much.”

“I have plenty,” she gasped, her eyes fluttering open.

“I’m not… ,” he whispered, his hands shaking as he held her.

She reached up, cupping his face. “I don’t care about the Prince. I care about the man who is holding me right now.”

Grayson looked at her, and for a beautiful, heart-stopping moment, he looked like the man in the photo.

He looked like he was about to say he loved her. He looked like he was about to stay in this dream forever.

But then, the sun over the Tuscany hills flickered.

It didn’t go out, but it dimmed, like a lightbulb about to burn out.

A cold wind swept over the balcony, knocking over the lemon trees Mailah had worked so hard to imagine.

Grayson’s posture stiffened. He set her down on her feet, his eyes scanning the horizon.

“What’s wrong?” Mailah asked, her heart sinking. “I’m still holding the dream. I’m not letting go.”

“It’s not you,” Grayson said, his voice turning sharp and regal again. “It’s the house. Someone is in the library. Someone is touching the Sigil.”

“Who…?” Mailah whispered. reason.”

Grayson grabbed her hand, but this time, he was the one in control. “We have to wake up. Now.”

“Wait!” Mailah cried, pulling him back for one last second.

Grayson’s face went pale—not the ghostly grey of hunger, but the white of true fear.

He didn’t respond. He just tightened his grip on her hand.

“Wake up, Mailah. Don’t go to the library. No matter what you hear, stay in your room.”

“Grayson—”

The villa shattered. The blue sky cracked like glass, and the smell of lemons was replaced by the cold, damp air of the estate.

Mailah’s eyes snapped open.

She was sitting upright in her bed, her breath coming in short, jagged gasps.

Her t-shirt was stuck to her skin with sweat. The room was dark, but the orange glow under the door was brighter than before.

Beside her, Shadow was standing on all four legs, her tail puffed out like a bottle brush. The cat wasn’t looking at the door anymore. She was looking at the floor.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

It was the sound of something moving in the crawlspace beneath the room.

Mailah reached for her nightstand, her hand finding the small, silver letter opener she had kept there for “protection.” It felt like a toothpick against the darkness she’d just seen.

“Grayson told me to stay here,” she whispered to Shadow.

Shadow let out a low, guttural growl—a sound no cat should be able to make. She leaped off the bed and ran to the door, but instead of scratching, she began to hiss at the hallway.

The heat in the air was becoming unbearable. It smelled like smoke and old, dry earth.

She stood up, her jaw set. Grayson had told her to stay, but the Mailah who had just built a villa in her mind wasn’t a girl who followed orders.

She grabbed her phone and used the flashlight to cut through the dark. “Let’s go, Shadow. We need to find out who was trying to touch or steal the Sigil.”

As she stepped into the hallway, the first thing she smelled was smoke.

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