Chapter 407: The Demon’s Lie

♪ "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine..." ♪

The ridiculous, cheerful ringtone echoed loudly through the cold, terrifying vault.

Silas pinched the bridge of his nose in sheer embarrassment. Victor stared at Grayson in absolute, wide-eyed bewilderment.

Grayson froze. His dark, terrifying expression instantly melted into a look of absolute panic.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket with lightning speed. The caller ID displayed a picture of Mailah wearing a silly pair of yellow cat ears, titled: "My Queen ❤️"

"It is twelve fifteen," Grayson whispered in horror, looking at Silas. "She woke up. She is awake."

"Answer it, My Lord," Silas sighed weary. "Before she realizes you are missing."

Grayson cleared his throat, wiped the lethal coldness off his face, and put the phone to his ear. When he spoke, his voice instantly transformed into the smooth, gentle, slightly nervous tone of a devoted husband.

"Hello, my love," Grayson said softly, turning his back on Vance and walking toward the elevator. "Why are you awake at this hour? Is your leg aching?"

On the other end of the line, Mailah’s sleepy, muffled voice came through the speaker. "Grayson? Where are you? I reached out for my water glass and you weren’t on the rug..."

Grayson’s heart did a nervous, frantic thud. He walked into the elevator, pressing the button for the underground garage.

"I am... currently in the lower level kitchen," Grayson lied smoothly, holding his chin high while Silas rolled his eyes in the background. "I discovered that our supply of organic chamomile tea was severely lacking in quality. I am preparing a fresh pot of hot milk with honey for you."

"In the kitchen?" Mailah asked, yawning softly. "Why do I hear an elevator dinging?"

Grayson stiffened. He glared at the elevator speaker as if it had committed high treason.

"It was... the smart-refrigerator," Grayson stated with absolute, unyielding confidence. "It possesses an automated shelf elevation system. It makes a chime when the milk drawer opens."

"A smart refrigerator?" Mailah laughed softly, her voice filled with sleepy affection. "Grayson, we don’t have a smart refrigerator."

"We do now," Grayson declared haughtily, stepping out into the parking garage where Silas was already unlocking the car doors. "I ordered it yesterday. It is an eleven-out-of-ten appliance. I shall be upstairs in three minutes, Mailah. Do not move from your blankets."

"Okay, hurry back. It’s cold without you," Mailah murmured softly. "I love you."

Grayson’s dark eyes softened completely. The terrifying demon prince who had just shaken an elite vault with pure dark power vanished into thin air.

"I love you more," Grayson whispered gently. "I am coming."

He hung up the phone, threw open the back door of the sedan, and jumped inside.

"Silas," Grayson commanded, his voice sharp and urgent. "Drive. If we do not make it back in three minutes, I shall hold you personally responsible for my wife’s cold feet."

"My Lord, we are ten miles away," Silas pointed out deadpan, stepping on the gas. "Unless this car develops wings, three minutes is physically impossible."

"Then drive faster!" Grayson barked, adjusting his coat. "She said it was cold without me, Silas! Do you understand the emotional weight of those words?!"

Silas let out a long, long sigh, shaking his head as he sped out onto the highway. "Yes, My Lord. Heaven forbid the Demon Prince’s wife experiences a draft."

At twelve twenty-two, the quiet estate was bathed in shadow.

Grayson slipped through the front door like a silent ghost. He took off his heavy grey coat, hung it in the closet, and instantly removed his silk tie and suit jacket. He pulled his grey domestic sweater back over his head, smoothing his dark hair with his hands.

He checked his pocket. The dark obsidian medallion was safely hidden inside the sweater’s inner lining, cool against his skin.

He walked down the hallway with soft, silent steps, carrying a warm mug of hot milk and honey on a small wooden tray.

When he stepped into the sunroom, Mailah was sitting up in the pink blanket fort, rubbing her sleepy eyes. The soft golden light from the fireplace flickered across her face.

"Grayson?" Mailah called out softly, looking over at him.

Grayson walked into the room with his majestic, regal stride, placing the tray down beside her blankets. He sat down on the soft rug, pulling his long legs up and looking at her with an expression of supreme, calm innocence.

"I have returned," Grayson announced smoothly. "Your hot milk with honey is prepared. It was heated to precisely one hundred and forty degrees."

Mailah looked at him suspiciously. She leaned forward, sniffing the air slightly.

"Why do you smell like cold rain and expensive leather?" Mailah asked, her dark eyes narrowing with curiosity. "And why are your shoes slightly damp?"

Grayson didn’t blink. He adjusted his sweater cuffs with supreme, aristocratic dignity.

"I stepped outside to inspect the perimeter security," Grayson lied smoothly, picking up the warm mug and handing it to her. "I heard a suspicious noise near the front gates. I wished to ensure no woodland creatures or stray fairies were lurking in the bushes."

Mailah took the mug, looking at him with a soft, amused smile. She knew he was hiding something small, but she could see the intense, unwavering devotion burning in his eyes. Whatever he had been doing out in the dark, she knew deep in her heart that he did everything to protect her.

"A fairy in the bushes at midnight?" Mailah teased, taking a slow sip of the sweet milk. "You really are obsessed with Ethan, aren’t you?"

Grayson’s dark eyebrows pulled together in a sharp, offended frown.

"I am not obsessed with the woodland creature!" Grayson declared haughtily, sitting up straighter. "I am merely vigilant! A great prince does not permit unauthorized spring breezes on his property!"

Mailah giggled softly, setting her mug down. She reached out, grabbing the edge of his grey sweater, and pulled him down into the blankets beside her.

Grayson didn’t resist for a single second. He let her pull him down, instantly wrapping his long, powerful arms around her waist, pulling her small frame flush against his broad, warm chest. He tucked her head securely under his chin, resting his cheek against her soft hair.

Mailah rested her hand over his chest, right over the inner pocket where the cool obsidian medallion lay hidden beneath his sweater. She felt the heavy, steady, powerful thud of his heart.

"Thank you, Grayson," Mailah whispered softly into his chest.

Grayson stilled. He looked down at the top of her head, his large hand gently stroking her hair. "For the milk?"

"For everything," Mailah murmured softly, closing her eyes as the warm rain fell softly against the glass roof above them. "For taking care of me. Even when you think I’m not looking."

Grayson closed his eyes, a breathtaking, handsome smile spreading across his face in the quiet dark. He tightened his hold on her, holding his entire world safe in his arms.

"I will always take care of you, Mailah," Grayson whispered into the night, his deep voice carrying a quiet, eternal promise. "In the light, in the dark, and through every century to come."

At six o’clock the next morning, soft sunlight began to filter through the rain-streaked glass of the sunroom.

Grayson had not slept a single second. He sat motionless on the rug, his large frame acting as an unshakeable wall against the morning draft, watching Mailah sleep. Her face was completely relaxed, a tiny hint of a smile resting on her lips.

Gently, Grayson reached beneath his grey sweater and pulled out the dark obsidian medallion. The red runes gave a faint, warm pulse against his thumb. With a quiet movement, he tied the dark leather cord around his neck, letting the heavy seal rest directly against his chest, right beneath his heart.

Now you are safe, Grayson thought, his eyes softening as he looked down at her. No shadow from my past will ever touch you again.

He slipped out from beneath the blankets with silent grace. It was time for his most important duty of the day: morning preparations.

In the kitchen, Grayson stood before the marble counter like a commander reviewing his troops. He wore his dark trousers, a fresh sweater, and—naturally—his yellow duck apron tied securely around his waist.

He pulled out a brand-new notebook, flipping to a fresh page.

"Operation Saturday," Grayson rumbled under his breath, writing with sharp, deliberate strokes.

Goal: Total victory over the woodland therapist. Step One: Prepare a breakfast so mathematically balanced that all floral magic becomes irrelevant.

He began slicing fresh strawberries. Each slice was cut at an exact forty-five-degree angle. He measured the orange juice using a small glass beaker, ensuring not a single bit of pulp remained.

"What are you doing up so early?"

Grayson froze. He turned his head slowly.

Mailah was leaning against the kitchen doorframe, holding her wooden crutches. She wore one of his oversized black hoodies, the sleeves completely covering her hands. Her hair was messy from sleep, her cheeks warm and pink.

Grayson’s heart did that familiar, foolish thud. He quickly closed his notebook and tucked his pen into his apron pocket.

"I am conducting necessary morning operations," Grayson announced smoothly, holding his chin high with supreme dignity. "You should not be standing, Mailah. Your ankle requires rest."

Before she could take another step, Grayson crossed the kitchen in two long strides. He lifted her effortlessly into his arms, carrying her over to the kitchen island and placing her gently onto a tall padded chair.

Mailah laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck for a brief second. "Grayson, I can walk a few steps! Soren said I need to use my leg a little more."

"Dr. Morrison is not here," Grayson replied haughtily, adjusting her hoodie hood so it sat straight on her shoulders. "I am the authority in this house. Drink your orange juice."

Mailah picked up the glass, taking a slow sip while watching him. She noticed the faint dark cord peeking out from the collar of his sweater.

"What’s that necklace?" Mailah asked curiously, pointing toward his neck.

Grayson’s hand instinctively rose to touch the hidden medallion beneath his shirt. His eyes flickered for a fraction of a second, but his handsome face remained completely calm.

"It is an ancient family crest," Grayson stated smoothly, leaning down until his face was inches from hers. "It reminds me of my solemn duty."

Mailah tilted her head, her eyes shining with sweet amusement. "And what is your solemn duty, Mr. Probation?"

Grayson leaned in closer, his deep voice dropping into a velvety, breathtaking purr that made her pulse race instantly.

"To protect my queen," Grayson whispered against her lips. "And to ensure she never high-fives another fairy again."

Mailah burst into a bright, beautiful laugh, pulling him down by his apron straps to press a sweet, warm kiss to his mouth. Grayson smirked against her lips, wrapping his strong arms tightly around her waist, victorious once more in his own little kingdom.