Chapter 70: Chapter 70: The Day Before

GRAYSON TURNED his gaze on Kieran, slow and lethal, as though weighing the moment to strike. Mailah froze, her breath catching.

She braced herself for violence, certain that Grayson would lash out at Kieran’s provocative words.

A certain energy prickled against her skin, the hush before the storm that signaled Grayson’s most violent edge.

Instead, he laughed.

The sound was rich and genuine, completely at odds with the energy that had been radiating from him just moments before.

Kieran’s smug expression faltered, replaced by something that looked like confusion.

“One day,” Grayson said, his voice carrying warm amusement rather than the cold fury Mailah had expected, “you’ll find yourself in exactly my position, Kieran. And when that day comes, I’ll be sure to remind you of this conversation.”

The look that crossed Kieran’s face was one of such profound disgust that it was almost comical. His golden eyes widened with horror, and his mouth twisted as though he’d tasted something particularly vile.

“Never,” he said with absolute conviction, the word carrying the weight of a sacred vow. “I would rather face permanent soul dissolution than subject myself to…” He gestured vaguely at the space between Grayson and Mailah, as though their connection were a physical thing he could see. “…whatever this pathetic display represents.”

Grayson’s smirk deepened, and Mailah caught a glimpse of an expression that shows the satisfaction of someone who had just scored a particularly effective point against a longtime rival.

“That’s exactly what I thought,” Grayson replied with obvious satisfaction. “Word for word, actually. ’I would rather face soul dissolution than lower myself to emotional attachment.’

The uncomfortable shift in Kieran’s demeanor was immediately apparent. Gone was his casual confidence, replaced by something that looked almost like panic.

He straightened abruptly, his golden eyes darting between Grayson and Mailah as though seeing them in an entirely new light.

“Yes, well,” Kieran said quickly, his voice unusually sharp as he changed the subject with obvious desperation, “we should begin when you’re ready, Mailah. Time is rather precious when preparing for a full feeding.”

It was only then that Mailah became acutely aware of her appearance—she was still wearing yesterday’s wrinkled dress, her hair disheveled from sleep and the morning’s chaos with Carson.

She could feel the remnants of yesterday’s makeup smudged beneath her eyes, and she was certain she looked as frazzled as she felt.

The two incubi seemed completely oblivious to her less-than-pristine state, but the thought of enduring another intimate training session while feeling so unkempt made her skin crawl with self-consciousness.

“Could I possibly have fifteen minutes?” she asked hesitantly, her hands smoothing reflexively over her wrinkled dress.

“Of course,” Grayson responded gently, his understanding immediate and complete. “Take whatever time you need. I’ll ask Mrs. Baker to bring some refreshments to the den.”

Kieran let out an exaggerated sigh that seemed to encompass the entire room, his golden eyes rolling toward the ceiling with theatrical despair.

“Oh, by all means,” he said with dripping sarcasm, “take your time. It’s not as though I have anywhere else to be, or anything more pressing to attend to than waiting while humans engage in their elaborate grooming rituals. My schedule is completely at your disposal.”

Despite the sarcasm, there was something almost like grudging tolerance in his tone, and Mailah caught herself fighting back a smile.

The situation had somehow shifted from tense and dangerous to oddly domestic, the supernatural drama temporarily displaced by the mundane reality of needing a shower.

“Fifteen minutes,” she promised, already backing toward the door. “I’ll be quick.”

She practically ran through the corridors to the master’s bedroom, her bare feet silent against the marble floors.

The familiar opulence of the room—the silk draperies, the ornate furniture, the massive bed with its pristine linens—felt like a sanctuary after the morning’s emotional upheaval.

The polished marble and crystal fixtures barely registered in her mind. All she felt was an urgent need to strip away the heaviness clinging to her, as if the bathroom’s perfection might somehow grant her relief.

Mailah turned the shower to its hottest setting and stepped under the spray, letting the scalding water wash away the physical remnants of yesterday’s and this morning’s turmoil.

As she shampooed her hair, her mind wandered to the strange dynamic between Grayson and Kieran. There was clearly centuries of history between them, layers of rivalry and shared experience that she was only beginning to glimpse.

The horror on Kieran’s face had been so genuine, so visceral, that it almost seemed as though he feared the possibility of emotional attachment more than death itself.

She finished her shower quickly, toweling off and moving to the expansive closet.

The wardrobe that had belonged to Lailah still felt foreign to her, filled with designer pieces.

She selected a simple but elegant dress in deep burgundy, the color complementing her skin tone while maintaining an air of understated sophistication.

As she brushed her damp hair and applied minimal makeup, Mailah found herself thinking about what lay ahead.

The first training session had been intense enough, but today would be different—tonight would be real.

The thought made her stomach flutter with a mixture of fear and anticipation that she didn’t want to examine too closely.

When she returned to the den, she found both men exactly where she’d left them, though the atmosphere had shifted subtly.

Grayson was arranging what appeared to be an elaborate tea service on a side table, complete with delicate porcelain cups and an assortment of pastries that looked far too elegant for the circumstances.

Kieran had settled into his favorite chair with the air of someone preparing to hold court, his golden eyes bright with anticipation for the entertainment to come.

“Much better,” he said approvingly as she entered, his gaze taking in her refreshed appearance with obvious satisfaction. “Now then, shall we begin? We have considerably more ground to cover today than in our previous session.”

The casual way he discussed the intimate violation of her subconscious made Mailah’s cheeks warm with renewed embarrassment, but she forced herself to move toward the chaise with as much dignity as she could muster.

“Today’s lesson,” Kieran began, settling back in his chair like a professor preparing to deliver a particularly fascinating lecture, “involves accessing the deeper layers of subconscious desire. What we explored yesterday was merely the surface—conscious fantasies dressed up in dream imagery.”

He gestured toward Grayson, who was moving to kneel beside the chaise with obvious reluctance.

“Real feeding means tapping into the primal urges humans spend their whole lives hiding—the raw, unfiltered wants.”

Mailah’s pulse jumped. If yesterday had been humiliating, what would today bring?

“The trick,” Kieran went on, his calm, clinical tone making it worse, “is telling the difference between fantasy and real desire. People often imagine things they’d never dare to do, but the subconscious never lies. It shows what the soul is truly hungry for.”

Grayson’s fingers found hers, and she felt the familiar spark of connection. But this time, there was something different—a deeper current of energy that made her skin tingle with awareness.

“Begin the connection,” Kieran instructed. “But this time, don’t stop at the conscious fantasies. Push deeper. Find the primitive drives.”

The world began to blur and shift around Mailah as Grayson’s supernatural nature touched her consciousness.

But instead of the gentle dream landscape of their previous sessions, she found herself in something far more visceral and immediate.

She was in a place that felt like pure sensation—not a room or landscape, but an embodiment of feeling itself.

Heat and hunger and desperate need surrounded her like a living thing, and she realized with dawning horror that this was her own desire made manifest.

“Delectable,” Kieran purred, his voice curled through the haze, low and heated. “Her subconscious doesn’t waste time with excuses or stories. It strips everything bare, laying the hunger open in its rawest form. Most would fight it, but she surrenders—and that makes it irresistible.”

Mailah wanted to protest, to deny what he was saying, but the dream held her in its embrace.

She could feel Grayson’s nature intertwining with hers, accessing layers of her psyche that she’d never even known existed.

“She craves intensity,” Kieran observed with clinical fascination.

The dreamscape grew heavier, more intricate, as if unseen hands were folding reality into itself. Grayson wasn’t just within it anymore—he was the force shaping it.

“And there it is,” Kieran said with obvious satisfaction. “The hunger runs deeper than longing. She doesn’t just want to be wanted—she wants to be the one thing another soul cannot survive without.”

His words struck deep. They were true, and that truth scared her even as it set her free. She wanted to be needed completely, in a way no one else could be.

“The contradiction is exquisite,” Kieran continued, his voice thick with appreciation. “She fears being consumed even as she craves it. She wants to maintain her independence while simultaneously surrendering it completely.”

Through the dream, she felt Grayson’s answer—hunger that stole her breath, bound to a protectiveness fierce enough to be violent.

“Enough,” Grayson said suddenly, his voice strained with the effort of maintaining control. “I can feel her distress.”

“Distress?” Kieran laughed. “That’s not distress, Ashford. That’s arousal. She’s practically vibrating with it.”

It was true, and the realization made Mailah want to shrink with shame. Yet her body betrayed her, reacting as if the dream were real—heat curling low in her belly, breath coming too fast.

Kieran’s voice carried a smug edge. “True arousal strengthens the feeding link. Conscious defenses drop, and the subconscious opens—making the life force far easier to draw on.”

As if to prove his point, the dream sharpened, every detail flooding her senses until she gasped aloud—her body betraying her even as her mind remained locked inside the fantasy.

“Wait,” she whispered, not knowing if her plea was for Kieran to stop speaking or for the dream to release her.

But Grayson had already begun severing the link, pulling her consciousness back to the physical reality of the den with gentle but firm insistence.

She lay draped on the chaise, her dress glued to flushed skin, hair escaping in soft tangles despite her recent shower.

She felt shaken and exposed, like the dream had branded her private desires into something visible and undeniable.

“Perfect,” Kieran said, his voice warm with approval as he moved closer. “Now that you’ve both touched the depths, tonight’s feeding won’t just be easier—it will be unforgettable.”

The offhand mention of tonight’s feeding made a shiver run through her, cutting through the lingering heat in her veins. All of this exposure, all of this stripping bare, was only a prelude to something far more consuming.

“Did he push you too far?” Grayson was instantly by her side, his voice was gentle, cutting through Kieran with undivided attention.

“I just feel…exposed,” she murmured, unable to look at him. “Like there’s nowhere left to hide.”

“Privacy is a myth,” Kieran said flatly. “Most people waste their lives propping up facades no one truly believes. At least now you can stop pretending.”

The sting of Kieran’s words lay in their truth. The training had dismantled her carefully maintained illusions, exposing desires she’d buried too deep to name.

Mortifying, yes—but strangely exhilarating.

For the first time, she wasn’t hiding. She was known, seen in a way that pierced beyond words. It should have frightened her, this naked clarity.

But when her eyes locked with Grayson’s, fear was the last thing she felt. What gathered in her instead was a pulse of anticipation she could no longer deny.

Was she ready for what he will demand of her?

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