CHAPTER 118: CHAPTER 118: THE FIRST LIGHT

"YOU—WHAT?" Mailah managed.

"I didn’t—that wasn’t—" Grayson started, clearly struggling to form words. "I meant—"

"Did you or didn’t you just tell me you like me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them, meeting her gaze with something like resignation. "Yes. I did. And I meant it, though the timing is apparently atrocious."

"The timing," Mailah repeated slowly, "is actually perfect. We’re about to spend all night sitting in a darkened entry hall waiting for potential demon attacks. What better time for declarations?"

"We haven’t even actually dated more than once," Grayson said, as if this was relevant. "Everything between us has been crisis after crisis, with barely any normal moments in between."

"So what?" Mailah moved from her chair to the arm of his, close enough to touch but not quite making contact. "We’ve been through more together in the past few months than most couples experience in years."

She reached out and took his hand, threading her fingers through his. "You say the timing is atrocious, but I say it’s honest. You like me because I’m real, because I challenge you, because I don’t back down even when I’m terrified."

"And you?" he asked, his voice rough with emotion. "How do you feel?"

Mailah took a breath, considering the question with the seriousness it deserved. She thought about the moment she’d realized she wasn’t just playing a role anymore—that she genuinely cared about this complicated, dangerous man.

She thought about standing up to Varrow, knowing Grayson had her back. About the helicopter chase and the moment they’d arrived home safe.

"I like you too," she said simply. "I think I’ve liked you for a while now. I just wasn’t sure how to say it without making things more complicated than they already are."

"Things are already impossibly complicated," Grayson pointed out, but there was a smile playing at his lips.

"Then at least this is the good kind of complicated," Mailah replied.

He turned to face her fully, his hand coming up to cup her cheek. The touch was gentle and reverent, and when he kissed her this time, it was slower than it had been the last time.

This wasn’t born of crisis or adrenaline. This was born of genuine feeling—deep and real and terrifying in its intensity.

When they broke apart, Mailah’s head was swimming. "So what now?" she asked breathlessly.

"Now," Grayson said, his forehead resting against hers, "we sit together and wait for morning. And if anything tries to breach these walls, it will have to go through both of us."

"I like the sound of that," Mailah murmured.

They settled into a comfortable arrangement after that—Mailah curled up in the high-backed chair with her head resting on Grayson’s shoulder, his arm around her holding her close.

He remained alert, his gaze fixed on the windows and the darkness beyond, but some of the tension had eased from his shoulders.

Hours passed in quiet companionship. The fire burned lower, and the house settled into that deep silence that comes in the hours just before dawn.

No shadows appeared at the windows. No sounds disturbed the peace. Varrow, it seemed, had decided that discretion was the better part of valor.

Or perhaps he was planning something more elaborate.

But for now, in this moment, Mailah could almost forget about the danger. She was warm and safe, held close by someone who liked her and was willing to stand guard against demons to keep her that way.

As exhaustion finally began to pull her under, she heard Grayson whisper something against her hair. It took her sleep-fogged brain a moment to process the words:

"I meant it. Everything I said. I like you, and I will protect you for as long as I exist."

And despite everything—despite the danger and the uncertainty and the complications still waiting for them—Mailah smiled as she drifted into sleep.

She was home. She was safe.

And for the first time since she’d stepped into her dead twin’s life, she believed that maybe—just maybe—happy endings were possible, even for someone like her and something like Grayson.

Mailah woke to sunlight streaming through the curtains, warming her face with gentle persistence.

She blinked, disoriented, her mind struggling to reconcile the soft mattress beneath her with her last clear memory—sitting in the entry hall with Grayson’s arm around her, his whispered words still echoing in her ears.

She sat up slowly, taking in her surroundings. This was her bedroom—the master suite that had once belonged to Lailah, and had gradually become hers through months of occupation.

The silk sheets were tangled around her legs, and she was still wearing the comfortable clothes she’d changed into last night.

But how had she gotten here?

The last thing she remembered was drifting off in that chair, Grayson’s steady heartbeat beneath her ear, his hand stroking her hair with surprising tenderness.

She’d been so exhausted, so completely wrung out from the events of the anniversary, that sleep had claimed her with merciful swiftness.

He must have carried her to bed.

The thought sent an unexpected flutter through her chest. She could imagine it—Grayson scooping her up with that supernatural strength, navigating the stairs and hallways without waking her, tucking her into bed with the kind of care that seemed at odds with his demon nature but perfectly aligned with the man he was becoming.

Or maybe had always been, beneath centuries of careful isolation.

Mailah swung her legs out of bed and padded to the bathroom, her muscles protesting slightly.

The anniversary felt like it had happened weeks ago rather than just last night—every confrontation, every revelation, every moment of terror and triumph compressed into a single evening that had fundamentally changed everything.

She caught sight of herself in the bathroom mirror and winced. Her hair had escaped its bun during sleep, creating a chaotic halo around her face.

There were faint shadows under her eyes that spoke of too little rest and too much adrenaline. And her lips were slightly swollen, still tender from Grayson’s kisses.

"You look like you survived a supernatural gauntlet," she told her reflection. "Which is accurate, so at least you’re honest."

The shower was blissfully hot, washing away the lingering tension from her shoulders and the fog from her mind. She stood under the spray longer than necessary, letting the water work its mundane magic while she processed everything that had happened.

Grayson had told her he liked her. She’d told him the same. They’d kissed—really kissed, with intent and feeling rather than just desperate relief.

And then they’d spent hours sitting together in comfortable silence, waiting for danger that never came.

It should have felt anticlimactic, that quiet ending after such a chaotic evening. Instead, it felt perfect. Like they’d finally found a moment of peace amid the constant chaos that defined their lives.

Mailah dried off quickly and dressed with more care than usual—dark jeans that actually fit properly, a soft cashmere sweater in deep burgundy that made her skin glow, and her hair pulled back in a neat ponytail.

She even added a touch of makeup, though she told herself it was just to hide the shadows under her eyes rather than to impress anyone.

The estate was quiet as she made her way to the dining room, the morning light filtering through tall windows and creating patterns on the marble floors. It was the kind of peaceful that felt earned rather than assumed, like the house itself was recovering from last night’s tension.

She found him in the dining room.

Grayson sat at the head of the long table, a cup of coffee steaming in front of him and what looked like untouched breakfast on his plate.

He was dressed more casually—dark slacks and a simple white button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, no tie, the top buttons undone. He looked relaxed and rumpled and entirely too attractive for someone who’d spent all night standing guard.

Chen occupied a seat to Grayson’s right, working his way through what appeared to be a substantial breakfast with the methodical efficiency of someone who knew how to fuel himself properly. He’d changed into casual clothes as well—jeans and a plain shirt that made him look more ordinary, less like the demon family’s pilot.

But it was the third occupant that made Mailah stop in the doorway, surprise catching in her throat.

Elin sat across from Chen, her small frame nearly swallowed by the high-backed chair. She looked better than she had last night—color had returned to her cheeks, and her eyes, while still haunted, held more awareness.

She was wearing clothes that Mailah recognized as some of Lailah’s casual wear, and her hair was damp from a recent shower.

Most surprisingly, she was eating. Small bites, careful and measured, but she was actually consuming food rather than staring at it with the vacant expression of someone too traumatized to function.

"Good morning," Mailah said, stepping into the room.

Three heads turned toward her, and the expressions she encountered were varied and telling.

Chen nodded politely, offering a professional "Mrs. Ashford" before returning to his breakfast.

Elin’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of something like recognition and gratitude passing across her features before she dropped her gaze back to her plate.

But it was Grayson’s reaction that made Mailah’s breath catch.