Chapter 396: The Score

By eleven o’clock at night, the atmosphere inside the fort had turned lazy and cozy.

Mailah was resting her head on Grayson’s chest, listening to the slow, steady beat of his heart. Grayson was absentmindedly running his fingers through her dark hair, his touch so light and careful it was obvious he was still remembering his "head pat" notes.

Suddenly, Mailah’s stomach let out a loud, distinct rumble.

Grayson’s fingers stilled. He looked down at her. "Are you hungry? The kimchi stew was not sufficient?"

Mailah smiled innocently, looking up at him with big, pleading eyes. "The stew was great. But now I have a very specific human craving."

Grayson raised an eyebrow. "What sort of craving?"

"I want sweet potato ice cream," Mailah announced. "And fresh, hot strawberry pastries from the bakery downtown."

Grayson looked at her in mild shock. "It is eleven o’clock at night, Mailah. The temperature outside has dropped significantly."

"I know," Mailah said, pouting slightly. "It’s cold. And my leg hurts too much to walk. But a really good husband who studied human wives would know how to handle a late-night craving..."

Grayson stared at her. He recognized the trap immediately. She was testing him again, pushing his limits to see how far he would go to make up for leaving her.

A lesser man would have argued. A proud demon prince would have refused.

Grayson simply let out a long, quiet sigh.

"Which establishment carries these specific items?" Grayson asked, his voice steady and resigned.

"The twenty-four-hour market on Main Street," Mailah said, her eyes sparkling with victory. "And remember the rules: no demon speed. No teleporting. You drive the car like a normal person."

"Understood," Grayson said solemnly.

He carefully lifted her off his lap, settling her into the soft cushions. He stood up, smoothing down his grey t-shirt, and grabbed his heavy black winter coat from the hall.

"I shall return shortly," Grayson declared, looking like a knight preparing to depart for a dragon’s lair. "Do not remove your leg from the pillows."

"Be careful, my hero!" Mailah called out playfully.

Forty-five minutes passed.

Outside, the wind began to howl around the glass dome of the sunroom, and a light rain started to patter against the windows. Mailah began to feel a tiny bit guilty. She had sent him out into the cold late at night just to tease him.

Suddenly, the grand front doors of the estate opened and closed.

A moment later, Grayson walked back into the sunroom.

Mailah gasped. He was completely soaked. The rain outside had turned heavy, and his dark hair was wet, clinging to his forehead and sharp cheekbones. His heavy black coat was dark with water.

Yet, despite looking like he had just walked through a monsoon, Grayson was holding a large brown paper bag in his arms with extreme care, keeping it tucked close to his chest to protect it from the rain.

"Grayson!" Mailah cried out, scrambling to sit up. "You’re freezing! Why didn’t you use an umbrella?!"

Grayson walked over to the fort, setting the paper bag down on a clean table inside. He wiped a drop of rainwater from his jaw, looking down at her with quiet, stoic pride.

"I had an umbrella," Grayson stated calmly.

"Then why are you soaked?!"

Grayson reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a smaller, delicate paper bag containing two warm strawberry pastries.

"The rain was coming down at an angle," Grayson explained deadpan, his voice totally serious. "If I held the umbrella over myself, the paper bag containing your pastries would have become damp and compromised the structural integrity of the crust. Therefore, I angled the umbrella over the food."

Mailah stared at him, her mouth slightly open.

He had literally used his umbrella to protect her ice cream and pastries while letting himself get completely drenched in the freezing rain.

It was ridiculous. It was completely illogical. It was directly out of his stupid, sweet little notebook.

Mailah felt a wave of pure, overwhelming warmth rush through her chest. Tears sprang to her eyes—not from laughter this time, but from absolute, undeniable affection.

"You idiot," Mailah whispered, her voice cracking slightly. "You absolute, dramatic idiot."

Grayson blinked, looking confused by her emotional reaction. "Did I select the wrong brand? I bought four different types of sweet potato ice cream to ensure accuracy—"

Mailah didn’t let him finish. She reached out of the tent, grabbed the front of his wet coat, and pulled him down to her level. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, burying her face into the cold, wet crook of his shoulder.

Grayson froze for a second, surprised by the sudden embrace, before his arms came around her, holding her gently against him despite his wet clothes.

"I don’t care about the pastries, Grayson," Mailah murmured into his neck, holding him tight. "You didn’t have to get soaked for a stupid snack."

"I promised to indulge your demands," Grayson replied softly, his voice dropping its formal edge, turning tender and deep. "You were hurt because I was absent. If getting wet in the rain brings a smile back to your face, I will stand in the storm every night."

Mailah pulled back slightly, looking into his sharp, handsome face. She reached up, using her sleeve to gently wipe the rainwater from his forehead and cheeks.

"Take off this cold coat," Mailah ordered softly. "And get inside this fort right now."

Ten minutes later, Grayson was dry, dressed in a soft black sweater, and sitting comfortably inside the glowing pink tent.

The small table in front of them was covered in four different tubs of sweet potato ice cream and two warm, flaky strawberry pastries. Mailah was happily eating a spoonful of cream, her bad leg resting comfortably over Grayson’s lap.

Grayson was holding Mailah’s notepad, reviewing the handwritten list she had created earlier.

His dark eyebrows were pulled together as he read the lines aloud:

House Decorating: 10/10 (Built an incredible pink fortress)

Cooking Skills: 8.5/10 (Amazing kimchi stew, shed tears for onions)

Late-Night Snack Quest: 10/10 (Sacrificed dry clothes for pastries)

Jealousy Management: 10/10 (Defeated TV actor with shirt move)

CURRENT STATUS: PROBATION PASSED

BED PRIVILEGES: DENIED (Couch Duty Enforced for 3 Days)

Grayson tapped his long finger against the last line. He looked over at Mailah, his dark eyes wide with quiet, aristocratic offense.

"Mailah," Grayson said, his deep voice carrying a tone of deep injustice. "I have achieved exemplary marks in every single category. I have suffered chemical attacks from vegetables. I have built a pink structure. I have endured freezing rain for pastry preservation. Why am I still assigned to couch duty?"

Mailah took a slow bite of her pastry, chewing thoughtfully before answering.

"Because," Mailah said smoothly, a teasing smile playing on her lips, "a good husband knows that trust takes time to rebuild. You left me alone for four weeks, Grayson. Three nights on the sofa is a very light sentence."

Grayson stared at her. He looked at the scorecard, then at her bright, playful eyes, and let out a long, dramatic sigh.

"I am being subjected to tyrannical rule," Grayson muttered, leaning his head back against the pillows. "A prince of the dark realm, banished to a velvet sofa."

"It’s a very comfortable sofa," Mailah pointed out, leaning over to kiss his jawline. "And it’s right next to my blanket fort."

Grayson looked down at her. His sharp features softened, the fake annoyance melting away into pure, quiet devotion. He reached out, wrapping his fingers around hers, squeezing tightly.

"Very well," Grayson whispered softly, bringing her hand to his lips and pressing a lingering kiss to her knuckles. "I will sleep on the sofa for three nights. I will make coffee every morning. I will chop a hundred onions if you command it."

He looked into her eyes, his gaze steady and full of absolute truth.

"Just promise me one thing, Mailah."

Mailah softened, looking at him warmly. "What?"

"If I ever become foolish again," Grayson whispered, "if I ever doubt my place by your side or worry that my dark nature will harm you... do not let me leave. Demand that I stay."

Mailah smiled, leaning up to press her lips softly against his.

"I promise," Mailah whispered against his mouth. "Now eat your ice cream, Grayson. You earned it."

Grayson let out a soft, low laugh, pulling her close against his chest as the golden fairy lights flickered softly outside their pink sanctuary.

Grayson took a small spoon of the sweet potato ice cream. He chewed it with total, dramatic focus, as if testing a rare potion.

"Well?" Mailah asked, watching his sharp face. "Is it good?"

"The sugar levels are balanced," Grayson said gravely, setting the spoon down. "It receives an eight out of ten."

Mailah giggled, her eyes growing heavy as the late hour finally caught up with her. She leaned her head against his broad chest, her breath slowing down into a soft, steady rhythm.

Grayson stayed completely still. He waited until she was sound asleep before moving even an inch. Very gently, using the careful soft-touch technique he had practiced so hard to learn, he slid out from under her head and replaced his lap with a plush feather pillow.

He tucked the fluffy pink blanket right up to her chin.

Grayson stepped out of the fort and climbed onto the nearby leather sofa. He lay down on his back, his long legs sticking out slightly over the armrest. He looked completely ridiculous, but he didn’t care at all.

He reached his long arm down, sliding his hand through the fort opening until his fingers found hers.

Mailah held his hand tight, even in her sleep.

Grayson smiled quietly into the dark, glowing room. Tomorrow, he vowed to himself, he was going to score a hundred points.