Chapter 267: Chapter 267: The Ex 1

“HUNGRY?” Grayson asked as he steered the car toward a quiet, sun-drenched street lined with high-end bistros.

They had settled into a routine that felt dangerously like a real life. Every morning, they drove to work. Until the afternoon, they navigated the strange, polite wars of the corporate world. And every evening, they returned to the estate, where the shadows were friendly and the world felt small enough to hold.

“Starving. But somewhere quiet.”

“I think I noticed a place,” he said, a mysterious glint in his eye. “It has a very thick door that blocks out the sound of people talking about quarterly earnings.”

Mailah wanted to laugh. Somehow that was quite important to him more than food.

The bistro was called L’Ombre—The Shadow. It was tucked away in a cobblestone alley, filled with the scent of roasted garlic and expensive wine.

Grayson led her to a corner table, his hand never leaving the small of her back. He moved with a newfound grace, a blend of his old, lethal power and a new, protective warmth that made Mailah’s heart skip beats.

“So,” Mailah said, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear as they waited for their appetizers. “Is it weird for you? Being… this? A guy who buys lunch and worries about traffic?”

Grayson looked at her, his expression uncharacteristically soft. “It is peaceful. My old life was a storm of noise and duty. Here, the only thing I have to worry about is whether you’re smiling.”

Mailah felt that familiar, swoon-worthy heat rise to her cheeks.

She reached across the table, her fingers tangling with his and he allowed it. In this moment, she almost forgot that he was a different version of Grayson from the one she loved.

“I like this version of you,” she whispered.

“Let’s hope it lasts,” he replied, his eyes not leaving hers.

He leaned in, his gaze dropping to her lips, and for a second, the rest of the restaurant disappeared. There was just the low hum of the jazz music, the golden light of the afternoon sun, and the man who made the supernatural feel like home.

And then, the universe decided the “routine” was getting a bit too comfortable.

“Mailah? Oh my god… Mailah? Is that actually you?”

The voice hit Mailah like a bucket of ice water. Her breath hitched, and her fingers stiffened in Grayson’s grip.

She knew that voice.

It was a voice from a life she had tried to bury under layers of Ashford secrets and demon politics.

She turned slowly, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.

Standing a few feet away was a man who looked like he had walked straight off a college campus and into a high-powered law firm.

He was handsome in a very human, very safe way—golden-brown hair, a tailored navy blazer, and brown eyes that were currently wide with a mix of shock and pure, unadulterated joy.

“Julian,” Mailah breathed, the name slipping out before she could stop it.

Julian.

Her ex-boyfriend.

The man she had been with for two years before the Ashford family drama had torn her life apart.

The man who knew her better than anyone—and the man who definitely knew that she was Mailah, not Lailah.

“I can’t believe it!” Julian stepped closer, ignoring the sudden, freezing tension radiating from the man sitting next to her. “I heard… I heard you had moved away. I’ve been trying to find you for months, Mailah!”

Mailah felt Grayson’s hand go cold. Not the cold of a person who is chilly, but the sudden, sharp drop in temperature that happened right before a lightning strike.

She looked at Grayson.

He was sitting perfectly still, but his eyes had shifted. The blue was gone, replaced by a swirling, predatory silver.

He wasn’t looking at Mailah; he was looking at Julian with the same focus he used when he was deciding which rival firm to destroy.

Mailah’s brain went into overdrive. She was still supposed to be Lailah.

If she acknowledged Julian, she was admitting her identity. If she denied it, Julian wouldn’t stop. He knew her face, her voice, the way she tilted her head when she was nervous.

“Mailah?” Grayson’s voice was a low, terrifyingly calm whisper. “Who is this… Julian?”

“He’s… nobody,” Mailah stammered, her voice an octave too high. “Just… an old acquaintance. He must have me confused with someone else.”

She turned back to Julian, her eyes pleading with him to just walk away. “I’m sorry, sir. You have the wrong person. My name is Lailah.”

Julian froze, a confused frown marring his handsome face. “Lailah? Mailah, what are you talking about? It’s me. Julian. We went to Greece together. You have that small scar on your wrist from the time we tried to cook that weird fish. I know it’s you.”

He reached out, as if to grab her hand, but he never made it.

Grayson was standing before Julian could even blink.

He didn’t move like a human; he moved like a shadow.

One second he was sitting, the next he was between Mailah and Julian, his hand gripping Julian’s wrist with a strength that made the younger man gasp.

“She said you have the wrong person,” Grayson said. His voice wasn’t loud, but it had a frequency that made the wine glasses on the nearby tables ring.

“Hey, man, let go!” Julian winced, trying to pull back, but he was pinned. “I don’t know who you are, but I know her! Mailah, why are you doing this? Why are you with this guy?”

Grayson’s eyes flared, the silver starlight spilling over his pupils. “You are using a name that does not belong to my wife. And you are touching things that belong to me.”

“Wife?” Julian’s eyes darted between them, his face turning a shade of pale that almost matched the white linen napkins. “You’re married? Since when? Mailah, you hated the idea of marriage! You told me—”

“Julian, please,” Mailah cut in, standing up and placing a trembling hand on Grayson’s arm. “You need to leave. Now.”

Grayson didn’t let go. He leaned in, his face inches from Julian’s. “I can hear your heart, Julian. It is very fast. Very loud. It’s annoying me. If you speak that name again, I will make sure you never speak any name ever again.”

“Grayson, stop!” Mailah whispered, her heart breaking at the fear in Julian’s eyes. “He’s just confused! Please, let him go!”

Grayson looked at her, and for a split second, the silver flickered.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, he released Julian’s wrist.

Julian stumbled back, nursing his hand. He looked at Mailah, and for the first time, he saw the “Lailah” mask—the expensive clothes, the powerful man, the world of shadows she had disappeared into.

“I don’t know what happened to you,” Julian said, his voice shaking. “But this isn’t you, Mailah. That’s not the girl I knew.”

He turned and bolted out of the bistro, nearly knocking over a waiter on his way out.

The silence at the table was heavy, thick with the scent of unasked questions and lingering magic.

The other patrons were staring, but one look from Grayson made them all suddenly very interested in their salads.

Grayson sat back down. He didn’t pick up his fork. He just watched Mailah, his gaze unblinking.

“He knew you,” Grayson said. It wasn’t a question.

“Of course he was an ex,” Mailah said, her hands shaking as she tried to take a sip of water.

“He seemed to know you well,’” Grayson noted, his voice dropping into that dangerous, smooth register. “He said you hated the idea of marriage. He knew the scar on your wrist.”

He reached out, taking her hand and turning it over to look at the tiny, pale line near her thumb. He had seen it a thousand times, but now, it looked like a brand.

Grayson looked up, and the intensity in his eyes made her want to run and stay at the same time. “He loved you. I could hear it in his voice. It was a human kind of love—small, desperate, and fragile. But it was there.”

He leaned across the table, his face inches from hers. “Tell me, Mailah… who was Julian in your life?”

Grayson stared at her for a long beat.

But before she could respond, he stood up, pulling her to her feet. “We’re leaving. This place smells like… human regret. I find it distasteful.”

They didn’t go back to the office. Grayson drove back to the estate, his driving even more aggressive than usual. He didn’t say a word until they were inside the foyer, the heavy oak doors shutting out the rest of the world.

He turned to her, pinning her against the door.

“Grayson?”

“He touched you,” Grayson growled, his hands framing her face. “He looked at you like he had the right to know your secrets. Like he had the right to remember the way you laugh.”

“He doesn’t have any rights now, Grayson,” she whispered, her hands finding the lapels of his suit. “He’s the past.”

Grayson leaned down, his lips brushing against her neck, sending a wave of electric heat through her body. “I don’t understand why I feel so much anger now.”

He kissed her then—a deep, possessive, soul-shaking kiss that tasted of fire and salt. It was the kiss of a man who was claiming his world, a man who didn’t need memories to know that the woman in his arms was his.

Mailah melted into him, her fingers digging into his shoulders. For a moment, the anxiety caused by Julian, her past, and the danger of Valerius all vanished.

There was only the weight of Grayson’s body against hers, the heat of his breath, and the intoxicating power of being kissed by something so ancient and so fierce.

“You’re mine,” he murmured against her lips. “In every world. In every life.”

Mailah’s heart soared, but a tiny, cold part of her brain whispered a warning.

She pulled back just an inch, looking into his swirling silver eyes.

His?

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