Chapter 415: The Demon Cousin 1

A slow, triumphant smile spread across Grayson’s sharp face. It was an arrogant, ridiculously handsome smile that lit up his dark features like sunlight breaking through heavy storm clouds.

"Did you hear that, Mrs. Baker?" Grayson proclaimed, standing up in a single, fluid movement. He folded his broad arms across his chest with supreme pride. "She has declared my culinary masterpiece superior! My skill remains unmatched across all realms!"

Mrs. Baker looked at the burnt, sunken pastry on the plate, then at Mailah’s soft, loving smile, and let out a gentle sigh. "If you say so, Mr. Grayson. However, if your dark skills are so vast, perhaps you can explain why there is a thick layer of white flour covering the kitchen ceiling."

Grayson’s broad chest deflated by a fraction of an inch. He cleared his throat, adjusting his crisp white shirt cuffs. "That was a tactical flour dispersion. It stabilizes the air moisture."

"Of course it did, sir," Mrs. Baker said dryly. "I will leave you to your victory while I go clean up your tactical disaster."

She picked up her dusting cloth, gave Mailah a warm nod, and walked out of the room.

The moment the double doors closed, Grayson turned back to Mailah, his eyes shining with pride. He puffed out his chest, picked up the silver fork, and cut off a small piece of the black pastry for himself. "Since it is a masterpiece, I shall partake in a bite as well."

"Grayson, wait—" Mailah warned, reaching out her hand.

It was too late. Grayson popped the piece into his mouth with absolute confidence.

For two full seconds, he chewed with aristocratic dignity. Then, his sharp jaw went rigid. His eyes widened in shock as the taste of burnt charcoal, raw vanilla, and four tablespoons of salt hit his tongue all at once. His throat hitched, his pale face turning a subtle shade of green.

Mailah bit her lip, trying desperately not to laugh out loud. "Is it good, My Lord?"

Grayson swallowed with immense effort, making a loud gulping sound. He stood as tall as a king, holding his chin high despite the salty agony stinging his tongue.

"It is... a very complex flavor profile," Grayson rasped out in a tight, strangled voice. "A true test of endurance. Only those with supreme strength can appreciate it."

"Grayson, you put salt instead of sugar in it, didn’t you?" Mailah laughed, handing him a glass of fresh water.

Grayson snatched the glass, drinking the entire thing down in three frantic gulps. He set the empty glass down, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and looked down at Mailah with a moody glare.

"The jars looked identical," Grayson grumbled defensively, dropping back down onto the edge of the couch. He crossed his arms, looking like a giant, sulky dark prince. "Salt and sugar are both white crystals. It is a flaw in human kitchen design."

"You ate that terrible thing just because I said it was good?" Mailah whispered softly, her heart aching with sweet warmth.

Grayson stopped pouting. He looked down at her, his dark eyes softening into a quiet, intense gaze that made Mailah’s breath catch in her throat. He reached out, his long, warm fingers gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I would eat poison if you handed it to me with that smile," Grayson murmured softly, his deep voice dropping into a low, velvety rumble.

Mailah felt a warm blush spread across her cheeks. She leaned up, pressing a gentle kiss against his sharp jawline. "You are unbelievable, Grayson Ashford."

"I am a demon," Grayson corrected haughtily, though his hand rested tenderly against her cheek, his thumb tracing her cheekbone with endless care. "And don’t you forget—"

CRASH!

The quiet warmth in the room was shattered by a loud, thunderous slam at the front gates of the estate.

It was not a peaceful arrival. The sound of sharp high heels clacking violently against marble floors echoed down the grand hallway, accompanied by the dramatic scraping of heavy metal suitcases being dragged across custom hardwood floors.

"Where is he?!" a loud, high-pitched, incredibly spoiled voice shrieked from the foyer. "Where is my cheap, moody cousin?! I have been traveling for six hours in a secondary private jet! A secondary jet! It did not even have silk footrests! Thomas! Pick up my third diamond bag before I have you turned into a shoe!"

Grayson’s romantic, tender expression vanished instantly. His sharp jaw locked tight. His eyes narrowed into dangerous slits as his dark aura flared, making the candles on the side tables flicker violently.

"No," Grayson growled flatly, his voice dripping with sudden, immense irritation. "Not her."

Mailah blinked, looking toward the hallway. "Who is that?"

Before Grayson could answer, the heavy double doors of the living room were kicked wide open.

Standing in the entrance was a young woman who looked like she had just stepped off a high-fashion runway in Paris. She had long, glossy black hair, sharp dark eyes, and was wearing an oversized designer fur coat over a sparkling gold mini dress—despite the cold morning rain outside. She was wearing massive black sunglasses indoors, holding a tiny, glittering purse in one hand and a giant cup of iced coffee in the other.

Behind her stood young Thomas, the footman, sweating profusely while balancing five massive pastel-pink suitcases in his arms.

"Grayson!" the girl gasped dramatically, pulling her sunglasses down to the tip of her sharp nose. "This estate is hideous! The trees outside are far too green! And why is there a human servant breathing near my luggage?!"

Grayson stood up slowly from the couch, stepping in front of Mailah like a tall, impenetrable shield. His deep voice boomed through the room like thunder.

"Chloe," Grayson said, his voice cold enough to freeze an ocean. "Give me three reasons why I should not throw you into the Atlantic Ocean this exact second."

Lady Chloe—Grayson’s spoiled demon cousin—let out a dramatic gasp, placing her hand over her chest. "Is that how you greet your favorite royal cousin?! I am traumatized! I have been dragged through normal human airspace!"

She strutted into the room without permission, tossing her heavy fur coat straight onto a priceless antique chair. Her sharp eyes quickly spotted Mailah sitting on the couch with her wrapped leg rested on the soft silk cushions.

Chloe stopped in her tracks, looking Mailah up and down with a snobbish, picky glare.

"Oh," Chloe said, crossing her arms and snapping her pink chewing gum. "So this is the fragile human girl you married. She’s tiny. She looks like a soft breeze could blow her away. Does she even know what caviar tastes like?"

Grayson’s face went deadly pale with absolute, lethal rage.

The air in the room grew icy cold. Grayson took one long, intimidating step toward Chloe, his eyes burning with terrifying fury.

"Speak about my wife in that tone again," Grayson whispered, his voice dangerously low, "and I will erase your whole human existence and banish you to a desert island for the next three hundred years."

Chloe flinched slightly, taking a quick step back behind poor Thomas and his tower of luggage. "I was just asking! You don’t have to be so scary! You’ve gone completely soft over a human!"

Mailah gently placed her hand on Grayson’s arm, tugging his suit jacket softly. "Grayson, calm down. It’s okay."

Grayson instantly relaxed his broad shoulders at Mailah’s soft touch. He turned his head to look down at Mailah, his icy expression melting into soft concern. "Did her shrill voice hurt your ears, my love? Shall I have Silas build a soundproof wall around her?"

"I am fine," Mailah chuckled softly, looking over at the dramatic girl. "Hello, Chloe. I’m Mailah."

Chloe puffed out her cheeks, looking away haughtily. "Whatever. I’m not here to make human friends. I’m here because your estate is the only place left with decent wifi."

Grayson stared at Chloe, his mind quickly connecting the pieces. He pulled his sleek, obsidian-black smartphone out of his inner suit jacket pocket. His long fingers tapped the screen with sharp, aggressive snaps.

"What are you doing?" Chloe asked, suddenly looking nervous.

"I am calling Lucson," Grayson stated flatly, placing the phone on the glass coffee table and switching it to speakerphone. "Because there is zero chance my useless brothers did not know about your unauthorized arrival."

The phone rang twice before connecting with a loud, chaotic static sound.

On the other side of the speaker, pure madness broke out. The sound of shattered glass, booming thunder, and a woman screaming in an ancient demon language blasted through the high-end phone speakers.

"Carson! Hold the heavy iron door!" a deep, panicked voice yelled over the speaker. It was Lucson. "She’s throwing real fireballs again! Where is the binding rope?!"

"I’m trying!" another deep voice roared back. "She just turned my favorite sports car into solid glass! Demon princess, please calm down and eat your sweet fruit!"

Grayson leaned over the table, staring at his phone with absolute disbelief. "What in the dark realm is happening over there, and why is Chloe standing in my living room?!"

Carson’s breathless, frantic voice came straight through the speakerphone. "Grayson?! Is that you?! Turn off the speaker—no, wait, don’t! We sent Chloe to your estate on purpose!"

"Send her back!" Grayson barked, his dark voice booming. "I am currently running a peaceful household with my wife! I do not have time for a spoiled child who complains about silk footrests!"

"We can’t take her back!" Mason shouted over the loud sound of another explosion on the phone line. "The demon princess escaped her warding room again! She has been tearing the manor apart for three days straight because we served her the wrong brand of sparkling water! We have a full demon princess crisis over here!"

"We couldn’t handle Chloe’s whining and shopping addiction on top of a raging demon princess!" Carson added quickly, his voice full of desperate fatigue. "Chloe spent forty million dollars on hand-carved shoes yesterday just because she was bored! We dumped her on your doorstep, Grayson! Deal with her!"

"I am a married man!" Grayson declared dramatically, standing tall over the phone. "I am not a daycare center for spoiled relatives!"

"She’s your problem now, brother! Don’t let her touch your credit cards! Goodbye!"

CLICK.

The line went completely dead.

Silence fell over the living room.

Grayson stared at his phone in absolute, frozen shock. Chloe stood near the door, nervously filing her nails and pretending not to notice Grayson’s terrifying glare. Mailah covered her mouth, her shoulders shaking with quiet laughter at the absurd family drama.