CHAPTER 39: CHAPTER 39: THE DREAM CONTINUES

The master bedroom had fallen into an eerie stillness. Mailah lay beside Grayson’s unconscious form, her breathing deep and rhythmic, lost in the realm of dreams. To any observer, she appeared peacefully asleep—her face serene, her body relaxed against the burgundy silk sheets.

But appearances, as Vivienne knew all too well, could be devastatingly deceptive.

Dr. Soren Morrison stood beside the bed, his practiced eyes moving between the various monitoring devices he’d arranged around the room.

Soft blue lights pulsed in rhythm with Mailah’s heartbeat, while other instruments tracked her brain activity with gentle electronic whispers.

"How long has it been?" Vivienne asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper in the hushed room.

"Twelve minutes," Soren replied, adjusting one of the monitors.

Though in dream time, Mailah could have experienced hours already.

Vivienne moved closer to the bed, studying Mailah’s peaceful expression with growing unease. The young woman looked so vulnerable lying there, her dark hair spread across the pillow like spilled ink.

There was something almost ethereal about her in this state, as if she were balanced on the knife’s edge between life and death.

"She’s beautiful, definitely different aura from Lailah’s," Vivienne murmured, almost to herself. "I can see why Grayson is so drawn to her."

Soren’s supernatural senses pierced the veil of the physical world, tracking the gentle swirl of energy dancing around Mailah’s resting body. "It’s not beauty that draws an incubus," he said softly. "It’s the vitality—the soul’s resonance, the depth of one’s inner light."

He nodded toward the glowing instrument, its display pulsing with golden light. "I’ll admit, she has an uncommon vitality—her spiritual essence burns brighter than most humans I’ve come across."

Just then, a faint chime resonated—a subtle shift in her life force. Barely noticeable to most, but it made him tense. He sent a controlled pulse of power into the device, amplifying its readings. Whatever was stirring inside her, he needed to know.

"Do you think..." Vivienne began, then stopped, as if afraid to voice the question that had been haunting her thoughts.

"Do I think what?" Soren prompted gently.

"Do you think she’ll survive this?" The words came out in a rush, laden with an emotion Vivienne rarely allowed herself to show. "What are her chances?"

The doctor was quiet for a long moment, his supernatural senses feeling for the threads that connected Mailah’s consciousness to the dream realm.

"There’s no way of knowing," he said with brutal honesty, his voice carrying the weight of centuries spent treating beings caught between worlds. "The feeding has begun—I can sense it. But with Grayson in his weakened state, his control is... unpredictable. By the time something manifests physically it might already be too late to anchor her consciousness back to this realm."

Vivienne’s hands clenched at her sides, her usually perfect composure showing hairline fractures.

Her guardian soul had lived for centuries, had seen countless supernatural crises, had made impossible decisions in the name of protecting those under her care. But this felt different. This felt personal in a way that made her chest tight with unfamiliar guilt.

"She volunteered," she said quietly, as if trying to convince herself as much as Soren. "She knew the risks."

"Yes," Soren agreed, but there was something in his tone—a subtle reproach that made Vivienne’s jaw tighten.

The guilt that Vivienne had been fighting all morning rose like a tide, threatening to overwhelm her carefully constructed emotional barriers.

She turned away from the bed, moving to the tall windows that overlooked the estate grounds.

In the distance, it’s as if she could see the exact spot where it had happened—where the chandelier’s supports had been weakened just enough to ensure failure at the precise moment Mailah would be walking beneath it.

I did what I had to do, she told herself firmly. Grayson was dying. I had to act.

But the rationalization felt hollow, even to her own mind.

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In the dream realm, time moved like honey—thick, golden, endless.

Mailah found herself in yet another place, though the transition had been so seamless she couldn’t remember moving.

One moment she had been pressed against the cabin wall with Grayson’s hands mapping every curve of her body, the next she was walking hand-in-hand with him through what appeared to be a luxurious resort.

The architecture was breathtaking—soaring marble columns, crystal chandeliers that caught and scattered rainbow light, walls of glass that opened onto terraces overlooking an impossible vista of mountains and sea.

It was the kind of place that existed only in fantasies, where every detail was perfect, every view postcard-worthy.

"Where are we?" she asked, though part of her didn’t really care. The question felt distant, unimportant compared to the warm weight of Grayson’s fingers intertwined with hers.

"Wherever you want to be," he replied, his voice carrying that same hypnotic quality that made her thoughts feel soft and malleable. "This is our honeymoon, after all."

Honeymoon. The word settled into her mind like it belonged there, like it had always been there.

Of course this was their honeymoon. They were married, weren’t they?

The memories felt hazy but real—a wedding in some beautiful location, Grayson in a perfectly tailored tuxedo, herself in flowing white silk.

"I remember," she said dreamily, though she couldn’t quite grasp the specific details. "It was beautiful."

"You were beautiful," Grayson corrected, bringing her hand to his lips to press a soft kiss against her knuckles. "You are beautiful. My perfect wife."

The endearment sent warmth flooding through her chest, and she leaned into his side as they walked through the resort’s magnificent halls.

Other guests moved around them—elegant couples, families, solo travelers—but they all seemed slightly out of focus, like background actors in a movie where she and Grayson were the only real people.

"What would you like to do today?" Grayson asked, guiding her toward what appeared to be a restaurant with floor-to-ceiling windows. "We could have breakfast on the terrace, or take a swim in the infinity pool, or..." His voice dropped to a suggestive whisper. "We could go back to our suite."

The suggestion made her pulse quicken, but also triggered something—a faint alarm bell in the depths of her mind. There was something she was supposed to remember, something important about dreams and mirrors and...

"Mailah?" Grayson’s voice pulled her back to the present, concern flickering across his handsome features. "Are you alright? You looked troubled for a moment."

"I’m fine," she said quickly, pushing away the uncomfortable thoughts. This was her honeymoon with her husband. What could be more natural, more right than that? "Just... happy. So happy I can barely believe it’s real."

Something shifted in Grayson’s expression—satisfaction, perhaps, or relief.

He cupped her face in his hands, thumbs stroking across her cheekbones with devastating gentleness.

"It’s real," he assured her, his blue eyes holding hers with hypnotic intensity. "This is real. We’re real. Nothing else matters."

When he kissed her, soft and sweet and perfect, the last of her doubts melted away like sugar in warm water.

This was exactly where she belonged—in this beautiful place, with this incredible man, living the kind of life she’d only ever dreamed of.

They spent the morning exploring the resort, each location more magnificent than the last.

They walked through gardens where the flowers seemed to glow with inner light, swam in pools carved from living crystal, dined on delicacies that tasted like distilled happiness.

And through it all, Grayson was the perfect companion—attentive, romantic, endlessly fascinating.

He told her stories of places they would visit together, adventures they would have, a future stretching out before them like an endless golden highway.

"I love you," he said as they sat on a private terrace watching an impossible sunset paint the sky in shades of coral and gold. "More than I’ve ever loved anything or anyone. You know that, don’t you?"

"I love you too," she replied without hesitation, the words feeling as natural as breathing. Because she did love him—this beautiful, dangerous, perfect man who looked at her like she was his entire world.

As the dream-sunset faded into dream-twilight, Grayson led her back to their suite—a palatial space with marble floors, silk curtains, and a bed the size of a small island.

Rose petals had been scattered across the pristine white linens, and candles flickered from every surface, casting everything in romantic golden light.

"Our wedding night was interrupted," Grayson said softly, drawing her into his arms. "But we have all the time in the world now. All of eternity, if you want it."

Eternity. The word should have been frightening, overwhelming. Instead, it sounded like a promise, like the most beautiful gift anyone had ever offered her.

As Grayson’s hands began their familiar exploration of her body, as his mouth found all the places that made her gasp and arch against him, Mailah let herself sink deeper, deeper into the perfect love and endless happiness.

Somewhere, in a place that felt very far away, a small voice tried to remind her that she had another life, another purpose. But that voice was growing fainter with each passing moment, each touch, each whispered endearment.

This was better than reality, better than anything the waking world could offer. Why would she ever want to leave?