CHAPTER 149: CHAPTER 149: THE INCUBUS

"NEVER WITH SOMEONE I WAS FALLING FOR."

Mailah felt tears prick the corners of her eyes, overwhelmed by the weight of what he’d just admitted.

"Grayson," she whispered.

"I know," he said, his voice rough. "I know it’s too soon and too complicated and we have approximately a thousand problems to solve before we should even think about—" He gestured helplessly between them. "This."

"But?"

"But I can’t stop thinking about you. Can’t stop wanting to be near you. Can’t stop wanting to visit your dreams like some lovesick fool who doesn’t know when to quit."

She laughed through the tears threatening to fall. "Lovesick fool?"

"Is there a better term for someone who risks entering the dream realm just to see you smile?"

"Dangerously romantic?"

"Dangerously stupid."

"That too."

They lingered face to face, so near that silence became a language of its own—dense with all the things they couldn’t bring themselves to say.

Mailah could feel her resolve crumbling, could feel the magnetic pull between them growing stronger with every shared breath.

"If you keep looking at me like that," Grayson said, his voice strained, "I’m going to do something we’ll both regret."

"Like what?"

"Like kiss you until you forget every reason this is a terrible idea."

Her breath hitched. "And if I want you to?"

His eyes darkened to pure silver, and she felt the temperature in the hallway spike. "Don’t tempt me, Mailah. I’m barely holding on as it is."

"Maybe I don’t want you to hold on."

For a heartbeat, she thought he might actually do it. His hands came up to frame her face, his thumb tracing her lower lip with excruciating gentleness. His eyes searched hers, looking for doubt, for fear.

He wouldn’t find any.

"You’re going to ruin me," he murmured, echoing what he’d said in the dream.

"Good," she whispered back. "You could use some ruining."

His laugh was barely a sound, but she felt it rumble through his chest. Then, with visible effort, he stepped back, his hands falling away from her face.

"Not tonight," he said, and she could hear how much the words cost him. "Not when we’re both exhausted and emotional and there’s a supernatural threat incoming. When I finally take you in the waking world, Mailah, I want you to be completely certain. No doubts. No fear. No external pressures."

She wanted to argue, wanted to pull him back and ignore every rational reason he was listing. But she could see the restraint in every line of his body, could see how hard he was fighting to do the right thing.

"You’re too noble for your own good," she said, trying to keep the disappointment from her voice.

"I’m really not. If I were noble, I wouldn’t have been visiting your dreams without permission."

"I give you permission."

His eyes flashed. "Don’t."

"Why not?"

"Because if you give me permission, I’ll take it. And I’ll keep taking until there’s nothing left to take." His voice dropped to something raw and honest. "I told you, Mailah—you’re both the cure and the trigger. And I can’t risk—" He stopped, jaw clenching. "I can’t risk hurting you because I couldn’t control myself."

The vulnerability in his confession made her chest ache. She reached up, cupping his face gently, making him meet her eyes.

"Then we’ll find another way." She smiled softly. "We’re good at finding other ways. We’ve made it this far, haven’t we?"

Something in his expression cracked open—relief and disbelief and desperate hope all tangled together. He caught her hand, pressing it more firmly against his cheek, his eyes closing briefly.

"You shouldn’t trust me this much," he murmured.

"Probably not. But I do anyway."

When he opened his eyes again, they were back to their normal dark color, the silver receding. But the intensity remained, burning bright enough to steal her breath.

"Go to bed, Mailah," he said softly. "Before I change my mind about being noble."

"Will you visit my dreams again?"

The question seemed to surprise him. "Do you want me to?"

"Yes," she said without hesitation. "But only if you promise to wake me up if anything dangerous happens."

His lips curved—not quite a smile, but close. "I promise."

"And Grayson?" She paused, her hand on the doorknob. "Thank you. For being honest. For trusting me enough to tell me the truth."

"You make it easy," he admitted. "Too easy."

She smiled, opened her door, and slipped inside before she could do something foolish like pull him in after her.

As she leaned against the closed door, she heard his footsteps retreat down the hallway—slow, reluctant, like leaving took physical effort.

Her heart hammered against her ribs, her skin still tingling from his proximity. Tomorrow they’d deal with Varrow and the mysterious woman and the vial full of dangerous truths.

But tonight, she’d fall asleep knowing that somewhere in the dream realm, he might find her again.

And this time, she’d be ready.

Mailah changed into her sleep clothes mechanically, her mind replaying every word, every look, every almost-touch from the hallway. She could still feel the ghost of his hands on her face, could still see the silver fire in his eyes when he’d looked at her like she was salvation and damnation wrapped in one impossible package.

She climbed into bed, pulling the covers up and staring at the ceiling. The villa was quiet—too quiet. She could hear the old building settling, the distant sound of wind through the cypress trees outside, but nothing else.

Sleep should have been impossible. Her mind should have been racing with thoughts of Varrow, of the mysterious woman, of the vial locked in Grayson’s safe. Instead, all she could think about was the way he’d said her name—like it was both prayer and confession.

She closed her eyes, willing herself to relax, to let exhaustion pull her under.

And then she felt it.

A shift in the air. A warmth that hadn’t been there a moment before. The sense of being watched, but not in a threatening way—in a way that made her skin prickle with awareness.

"Grayson?" she whispered into the darkness.

No response. But the feeling didn’t fade. If anything, it intensified.

She sat up slowly, scanning the room. Nothing. Just shadows and moonlight and—

There. In the corner, where the darkness seemed slightly deeper, slightly more substantial than it should be.

"I know you’re there," she said, her voice steadier than she felt.

The shadow rippled, and suddenly Grayson was standing there, looking both sheepish and defiant in equal measure. He wasn’t fully corporeal—she could see the faint outline of the wall through him, the way he flickered slightly at the edges like a candle flame.

"I couldn’t stay away," he admitted. "I tried. I made it halfway down the hall before—" He stopped, shaking his head.

Despite everything, Mailah smiled. "You’re sweet."

"Sweet." He said the word like it was foreign. "I’m an incubus standing in your bedroom like some Victorian ghost with stalking issues. That’s not sweet, Mailah. That’s concerning."

"It would be concerning if I didn’t want you here."

His form solidified slightly, becoming more real. "You want me here?"

"Yes." She patted the edge of her bed. "Come sit. Talk to me. Unless that’s too dangerous?"

"Everything about this is dangerous," he said, but he moved closer anyway, his form shifting until he could sit on the very edge of her bed without quite touching her. "But apparently I’ve stopped caring about self-preservation where you’re concerned."

Mailah drew her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. "Tell me something."

"What?"

"In all your centuries, all your marriages, did you ever feel this way about anyone?"

He was quiet for a long moment. "No. I chose my wives specifically because I felt nothing for them. It was safer that way. Cleaner."

"And now?"

"Now I’m sitting in your bedroom as a shadow because I can’t bear to be away from you." He laughed, the sound bitter and beautiful. "You’ve undone centuries of careful control in a matter of months."

"Is that so terrible?"

"Ask me again when I inevitably hurt you."

"You won’t."

"You can’t know that."

"I know you," she countered. "I know that you pushed me away in the dream to protect me. I know that you’re here now in shadow form instead of flesh because you don’t trust yourself to touch me. I know that every choice you make is designed to keep me safe, even when it costs you."

He stared at her like she’d spoken in tongues. "How can you have so much faith in me?"

She reached out slowly, her hand passing through his shoulder—warm but insubstantial, like touching sunlight. "Because I see who you are, Grayson. Not what you were made to be. Not what your nature demands. You."

His form flickered, becoming slightly more solid under her touch.

They sat like that for a while, Mailah with her hand resting in the space where his shoulder would be, Grayson flickering between solid and shadow like he couldn’t decide which was safer.

"Tell me about the dream realm," Mailah said finally. "How does it work? How can you be there and here at the same time?"

He seemed grateful for the change in subject. "The dream realm exists adjacent to this one. It’s where consciousness goes when the body sleeps, where desires and fears play out in metaphor and symbol."

"And incubi can just... walk around there?"

"We’re native to it, in a way. It’s where we feed most efficiently. Dreams are pure emotion, pure energy. No physical barriers, no conscious resistance."

"That sounds terrifying."

"It is. For the dreamer." His expression darkened. "Most incubi hunt in the dream realm. They find sleeping minds and drain them slowly over time, feeding on nightmares and desires until there’s nothing left."

"But you don’t."

"I didn’t. For centuries, I stayed out of the dream realm entirely. It was too tempting, too easy."

He turned to her, his form solidifying enough that she could see every detail of his face—the sharp line of his jaw, the silver in his eyes, the vulnerability in his expression that he rarely let show.

"Come here," Mailah said, patting the space beside her.

"Mailah—"

"Just lie with me. Talk to me until I fall asleep. That’s all. Nothing dangerous, I promise."

He hesitated, every line of his half-corporeal form radiating conflict. Then, slowly, he shifted, lying down beside her on top of the covers, careful to keep space between them.

She could feel him beside her—not quite touching, but close enough that his presence was a constant warmth along her right side. Close enough that she could hear the ghost of his breathing, could sense the way he was fighting to stay in this in-between state rather than fully manifesting.

They lay there in the darkness, close but not touching, talking in whispers until Mailah’s words started to slur with exhaustion. She felt Grayson shift slightly, becoming even less substantial, like he was preparing to leave.

"Stay," she mumbled, already halfway to sleep. "Please."

"I’ll stay until you’re asleep," he promised. "And then I’ll visit you in the dream realm. If you want."

"I want," she managed, her eyes already closing. "Always want you."

She felt something that might have been his lips brush her forehead—warm but insubstantial, there and gone in a heartbeat.

"Sleep, Mailah," he murmured. "I’ll find you in your dreams."

And as she drifted off, wrapped in warmth and safety and the ghost of his presence, she smiled.