CHAPTER 65: CHAPTER 65: THE DEMON’S CURE

WHEN KIERAN LEFT, the silence he left behind felt suffocating, pierced only by the fire’s hiss and the shaky rhythm of Mailah’s breathing.

She remained curled on the chaise, acutely aware of every sensation coursing through her body—the lingering heat from the dream feeding, the way her skin seemed to hum, the embarrassing dampness between her thighs that she prayed Grayson couldn’t detect.

But of course he could. His supernatural senses could probably pick up every racing heartbeat, every shallow breath that betrayed her arousal.

"Mailah," Grayson’s voice was rough, strained with his own barely controlled desire. He knelt beside the chaise, his hands hovering uncertainly as if he wanted to comfort her but didn’t trust himself to touch. "I’m sorry. I should never have let him—"

"Don’t apologize," she interrupted, finally meeting his eyes.

The intensity she saw there made her breath catch.

His usual careful control was fraying at the edges, hunger bleeding through his usually cold or cautious facade. "You didn’t make me feel those things. They were already there."

The admission hung between them like a challenge, raw honesty that stripped away pretense.

Grayson ran a hand through his hair, his movements restless in a way she’d rarely seen. During the times they were together, he’d maintained perfect composure, perfect distance. Now he looked like a man at war with himself.

"That doesn’t make this any easier," he said quietly, his voice carrying a roughness that sent shivers down her spine.

Mailah shifted on the chaise, hyperaware of how the movement sent fresh waves of heat through her oversensitized body. "Easier for who? You’re over there acting like touching me would be a crime, and I’m here burning alive.

The blunt honesty seemed to crack something in his carefully maintained facade.

His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, and she caught the way his nostrils flared slightly—scenting her arousal, no doubt.

"You don’t understand," Grayson said, his voice dropping to something barely above a whisper. "If you go to bed like this, burning with unfulfilled desire, you’ll summon me in your dreams whether you mean to or not. And after what happened tonight, after accessing those deeper layers of your consciousness..."

"It would be dangerous," Mailah finished, understanding flooding through her.

"I could drain you without meaning to," he confirmed, taking a step closer despite himself. "Could lose myself in your fantasies and forget to maintain control."

The space stretched taut, the tension between them vibrating like a live wire.

She could see him fighting against every instinct, but for the first time since she’d known him, she wasn’t sure which side was winning.

"Then what do you suggest?" she asked, her voice barely steady. "Because this feeling isn’t going away on its own."

For a long moment, Grayson was silent, staring at her with an intensity that made her feel exposed despite being fully clothed. When he finally spoke, his words shocked her to her core.

"I help you," he said simply, though the roughness in his voice betrayed how much the admission cost him. "Here. In the real world, where I can maintain control."

Mailah’s breath caught in her throat. This was so unlike him, so contrary to the careful distance he’d maintained for months.

Grayson almost never initiated intimacy, barely tolerated the few stolen moments they’d shared. He was always the one pulling back, always the one finding reasons to maintain space between them.

"You... what?" she managed, certain she’d misheard.

"You heard me," he said, moving closer with fluid grace. "Kieran was right about one thing—deep feeding creates intense physiological responses. Your body experienced everything your mind fantasized about. And let’s be honest, a cold shower isn’t nearly enough to douse that kind of fire."

He was close enough now that she could feel the heat radiating from his body.

"But you never—" she started, then stopped, unsure how to voice what she was thinking. You act like I’m made of glass that might shatter if you get too close.

"I never what?" His voice carried a dangerous edge making her pulse quicken.

"You’ve spent months avoiding this," she said finally. "Avoiding me. And now suddenly you’re offering to..." She gestured helplessly, heat flooding her cheeks as she tried to find words for what he was suggesting.

For a moment that stretched like eternity, they stood frozen in the firelight, balanced on the knife’s edge between restraint and surrender. Then Grayson’s spoke.

"God help us both," he breathed, and his mouth crashed down on hers.

It was nothing like the tentative touches they’d shared before. This was hunger given form, months of careful distance incinerated in the space of a heartbeat.

His lips moved against hers with desperate intensity, as if he were drowning and she was his only source of air.

Mailah melted into him, her body responding with an eagerness that should have embarrassed her but somehow felt as natural as breathing.

She could feel the carefully controlled strength in his hands as they tangled in her hair.

When they finally broke apart, both were breathing hard, staring at each other with something approaching wonder.

"That was..." Mailah began, then trailed off, unable to find words for the intensity of what had just passed between them.

"Not enough", Grayson murmured as he caught her lips again.

This time when he kissed her, it was with purpose rather than desperation.

His mouth moved as if he were mapping every sensitive spot and filing the information away for future reference.

His hands roamed her body with reverent exploration, learning the curves and hollows that had been hidden beneath careful clothing and even more careful distance.

When his fingers found the zipper at the back of her dress, he paused, giving her one last chance to retreat.

Instead, she arched into his touch, silently granting permission.

The sound of the zipper seemed unnaturally loud in the quiet room, accompanied by the whisper of fabric sliding over skin.

Cool air kissed her bare shoulders, but Grayson’s hands were there immediately, warming her with touches that felt almost worshipful in their gentleness.

"Beautiful," he murmured against her throat, his lips tracing the line of her pulse with exquisite care.

Mailah’s head fell back, granting him better access as his mouth worked its way down her throat with deliberate slowness.

Every press of his mouth and playful nip lit up her nerves, sending wild sparks of heat through a system already running way past capacity.

When he lifted her in his arms, carrying her to the thick rug before the fireplace, she felt cherished.

He laid her down with care, his eyes drinking in every detail of her body revealed in the firelight. The reverence in his gaze made her feel powerful and vulnerable all at once.

"Let me take care of you," he said, his voice rough with controlled desire as he settled beside her on the soft rug.

His hands were gentle as they explored her body, mapping every curve and hollow with touches that somehow managed to be both innocent and devastatingly erotic.

When his fingers finally found the source of her heat, she cried out at the exquisite relief of contact.

The pads of his fingertips danced around her clit, a delicate ballet of pressure and retreat, each touch sending a shiver through her body that grew in intensity.

He watched her face, the way her eyes rolled back and her mouth fell open in silent pleas for more, and felt his own arousal thicken in response.

The dampness of her desire coated his digits as he grew bolder, tracing her delicate folds with a hunger that surprised even him.

Her hips began to move in time with his caresses, a silent symphony of need that spoke more eloquently than any words.

He could feel the tension coiling deep within her, a tight spring waiting to be released by the deftest of touches.

His thumb circled her clit with a firmness that had her gripping the sheets, her body arching upward as she sought to escape the torment and embrace it simultaneously.

Her breath grew ragged, each inhale a desperate attempt to maintain composure amidst the storm of pleasure he was conjuring.

He slipped one finger inside her, feeling her slickness clench around him like a fist.

The sensation was intoxicating, urging him to delve deeper, to explore the hidden recesses of her desire.

He watched as her breasts rose and fell in time with his rhythm, her nipples hard and pebbled, begging for his mouth.

He leaned down, capturing one between his teeth, tugging gently as his hand continued to work its magic between her legs.

The contrast of sensations—the softness of her flesh against his mouth, the slick heat of her core against his hand—was a symphony of lust that played out across his senses.

She bucked against him, her legs parting wider as he stretched and filled her in a way that was both deliciously agonizing and heavenly.

Her inner walls quivered around him, her arousal coating his hand as he stroked in a slow, deliberate rhythm that made her whimper. E

ach movement was a silent question, a plea for more that he read as clearly as if she’d spoken the words aloud.

His thumb remained steadfast on her clit, a constant pressure that grew in tempo as the tension grew. Her breaths became erratic, her chest heaving with the effort of holding back the screams that threatened to spill from her lips.

His touch, his murmured encouragements, and the hungry way he studied every flicker of her expression wound the tension inside her tighter and tighter, until it snapped in a rush of release that tore a cry from her throat, reverberating through the den’s paneled walls.

Afterward, she lay boneless in his arms, feeling as if every nerve ending had been rewired.

The desperate heat that had tormented her since Kieran’s feeding exercise had finally cooled to something manageable, replaced by a different kind of warmth entirely.

"Better?" Grayson asked softly, his fingers combing through her disheveled hair with gentle strokes.

"Much," she admitted, then shifted in his arms until she could see his face clearly.

The firelight painted golden highlights across his sharp features, but she could still see the strain there, the careful control he was maintaining even after giving her such exquisite release. "But what about you?"

His body remained taut with unspent hunger, every measured breath betraying the war he waged against the relentless pulse of his own desire.