The silence stretched between them like a taut wire ready to snap. Grayson's words hung in the air—God help us both—and Mailah felt the weight of them settle deep in her bones. But just as she thought he might close the distance between them, might finally show her what he truly was, he stepped back.
The withdrawal was so abrupt, so final, that she felt the loss like a physical ache.
"No," he said, his voice rough with restraint. "This is madness. You're not thinking clearly—you can't be."
He moved toward the door with that fluid grace that now made perfect sense, pausing only when his hand touched the ornate handle. His shoulders were rigid with tension, every line of his body screaming internal warfare.
"I'm leaving you alone to think," he said without turning around. "Really think, Mailah. About what I've told you. About what staying here means." His grip tightened on the door handle until his knuckles went white. "Because the easiest path—the safest path for everyone—would be to simply... end this."
A chill ran down her spine. "End this how?"
Now he did turn, and the expression on his face was so desolate it took her breath away. "The easiest solution would be to kill you. One quick death instead of a slow drain that would inevitably attract others of my kind." His jaw clenched. "But I'm not one who harms humans without a fair fight. You deserve the chance to choose your own fate."
Before she could respond, before she could even process the casual way he'd just discussed ending her life, he was gone. The door closed behind him with a soft click that sounded thunderous in the sudden silence.
Mailah stared at the closed door for a long moment, her heart hammering against her ribs. He'd just told her he could kill her—that it would be the logical choice—and then left her alone to contemplate that fact.
The casual way he'd delivered the statement made it somehow more terrifying than if he'd raged or threatened.
She sank back onto the bed, pulling her knees up to her chest, and tried to make sense of everything that had happened.
Just a day ago, her biggest worry had been whether she was successfully impersonating her dead sister.
Now she knew that her sister's husband was a literal demon who had been unknowingly feeding on her life force through dreams that were somehow more real than reality itself.
Incubus, he'd called himself. A creature designed to seduce and drain women. Yet he claimed he'd been starving himself for three centuries rather than take what wasn't freely given. The contradiction made her head spin.
The bruise on her hip throbbed as if responding to her thoughts, and she pulled up the hem of her nightgown to examine it. In the moonlight streaming through the window, the mark looked darker, more defined than it had that morning.
She should be terrified. She should be packing her bags and running as far and fast as possible, just as he'd suggested.
Any rational person would flee from a man who'd just admitted to being a demon capable of draining her life force.
Instead, she found herself remembering the way he'd looked at her in those dreams—with hunger, yes, but also with something that felt suspiciously like reverence.
The way his hands had mapped her body as if she were something precious and rare. The way he'd whispered her name like a prayer.
And the way he'd looked tonight when she'd asked him to show her his true form—not with the predatory anticipation she might have expected, but with genuine fear. Not fear of her, but fear for her.
What if the dreams don't feel like feeding to me? They feel like the only time I'm truly alive.
The words she'd spoken rang true even now, in the cold light of impossible reality.
For the first time in her life, she'd felt desired, cherished, wanted for herself rather than as a replacement for someone else. Even if those feelings might have been born from supernatural manipulation, they'd felt real to her.
A soft knock at the door interrupted her spiraling thoughts.
"Come in," she called, expecting to see Mrs. Baker with tea or perhaps one of the other staff checking on her.
Instead, Vivienne stepped through the doorway, her silver hair perfectly coiffed despite the late hour, her sharp eyes taking in every detail of Mailah's disheveled state.
"I see Grayson finally told you the truth," Vivienne said, closing the door behind her with a soft click.
She moved with the same fluid grace as her supposed son, but where his movements held an otherworldly predatory quality, hers spoke of decades of careful training and discipline.
Mailah pulled her knees closer to her chest, suddenly aware of how vulnerable she must look in her thin nightgown. "He said you're not actually his mother."
"Guilty as charged." Vivienne's lips curved in what might have been amusement, but her eyes remained watchful, calculating. "Though after forty-seven years of looking after him and his brothers, the maternal instincts have become quite real, I assure you."
The woman settled into the velvet armchair by the window with practiced elegance, crossing her legs and folding her hands in her lap.
Even in the middle of the night, discussing demons, she looked like she was holding court at a society luncheon.
"You're handling this better than most," Vivienne observed, tilting her head as she studied Mailah. "Though I suppose you've had time to adjust to the impossible. The dreams have been going on for a few days now."
Heat flooded Mailah's cheeks. "You knew about the dreams?"
"My dear girl, I caught his scent on you the instant that breeze reached me." Vivienne's tone was matter-of-fact, as if they were discussing the weather. "Incubus scent is quite distinctive once you know what to look for. Sweet, intoxicating, with an underlying musk that speaks of sexuality and forbidden desires."
The clinical way she discussed it made Mailah's skin crawl with embarrassment. "And you didn't think to give me a clearer warning?"
"Warn you of what, exactly? That the husband of the sister you were impersonating might visit you in your sleep?"
Vivienne's eyebrow arched elegantly. "You were already living a lie, dear. What was one more layer of deception?"
The words hit like a slap.
Vivienne rolled her eyes. "I warned you not to sleep, didn't I? The moment I detected what was happening, I tried to protect you."
Vivienne's expression grew more serious. "I immediately contacted Grayson to make him aware that his incubus side had become active without his knowledge. He'd been so convinced he had it under control."
"How did you know I wasn't Lailah?"
"Of course." Vivienne laughed that sounded like crystal chiming. "Did you honestly think you could fool someone who's spent decades guarding demons? Your sister was poised, controlled, every emotion carefully regulated. You, on the other hand, wear your heart on your sleeve like a badge of honor."
"He's been feeding on me," Mailah said, steering the conversation back to the main issue. "He said so himself."
"Unconsciously. Barely enough to sustain him, and certainly not enough to restore him to full strength."
Vivienne's expression grew thoughtful. "And only recently—I suspect it started very recently and began sleeping in one bed with you, surrounded by his scent, wearing clothes that carried traces of his essence. You created the perfect storm of temptation for a starving incubus."
Mailah felt a chill run down her spine. "So this is my fault?"
"Not fault—catalyst," Vivienne corrected. "And perhaps salvation."
"What happens now?" she asked quietly.
Vivienne was silent for a long moment, her gaze drifting to the window where moonlight painted silver patterns on the floor. When she spoke, her voice carried a careful neutrality that somehow made her words more unsettling.
She leaned forward, her eyes fixed on Mailah's face. "As a fellow human, I would advise you to run. Pack whatever belongings you can carry and disappear into the night. Go as far as you can, change your name, start over somewhere completely new."
Mailah didn't expect that. "But the scent—"
"The scent will fade," Vivienne interrupted. "It takes time, but as long as you don't deliberately summon him in your dreams, you'll be safe from him. And more importantly, you'll be safe from other incubi who might catch his essence on you and decide you're fair game."
Hope flickered in Mailah's chest, quickly followed by a sharp pang of something that felt suspiciously like loss. "How long?"
"Six months, perhaps a year if the connection was particularly strong. You'd need to be careful during that time—avoid anything that might weaken your mental defenses, stay away from places where supernatural activity is common." Vivienne's expression was clinical, professional. "It would be difficult, but entirely survivable."
"And Grayson?"
Something shifted in Vivienne's face—a flicker of pain quickly suppressed. "Grayson has made his choice. He's been making it for three centuries. If you leave, he'll simply continue as he has—starving himself rather than take what he needs to survive."
"And that's... sustainable?"
"No." The word fell between them like a stone. "No, it's not. Which brings me to my second responsibility."
Vivienne's hands tightened in her lap, the first sign of genuine emotion she'd shown since entering the room. "As Grayson's guardian—as someone who has watched him slowly waste away for decades—I would ask you to stay."
Mailah's breath caught. "Stay?"
"He needs to feed, Mailah. Not the scraps he's been surviving on, not the unconscious dream encounters that barely keep him alive. He needs to feed properly, regularly, or he's going to die."
Vivienne's voice grew urgent. "I've watched him grow weaker with each passing decade, watched him retreat further into himself as the hunger consumes him. What happened with you—those dreams, that unconscious feeding—it was his body's last desperate attempt at survival."
"You're asking me to let him feed on me. Deliberately."
"I'm asking you to save his life." Vivienne rose from her chair and moved to the window, her reflection ghostly in the glass. "Incubi aren't meant to starve, dear. They're meant to form bonds, to feed regularly from willing partners. Grayson's noble abstinence is nothing more than a slow, agonizing form of suicide."
"But he said other incubi would be drawn to me—"
"Not if he's feeding properly. Not if he's strong enough to mask your scent, to protect what's his." Vivienne turned back to face her, and for the first time, Mailah saw genuine desperation in the older woman's eyes.
"A well-fed incubus is a formidable creature, capable of shielding his chosen partner from others of his kind. But a starving one? He can barely protect himself, let alone you."
The room fell silent except for the soft whisper of wind through the open window. Mailah felt torn between two impossible choices, each carrying consequences she could barely comprehend.
"So my options are run and hope I survive until his mark fades," she said slowly, "or stay and become his... what exactly?"
"His anchor. His sustenance. His partner, in the truest sense of the word." Vivienne's voice grew soft, almost wistful.
"I've seen such bonds before in others, in the early days of my guardianship. They're beautiful things when formed willingly—a connection that transcends the purely physical, a sharing of essence that strengthens both parties."
"And the risks?"
"Considerable," Vivienne admitted. "Bonding with an incubus is not something to be undertaken lightly. But neither is abandoning someone you care about to a slow, inevitable death."
Mailah closed her eyes, feeling the weight of impossible choices pressing down on her. In the distance, she could hear footsteps—measured, pacing, restless.
Somewhere in this vast estate, Grayson was walking the halls, no doubt torturing himself with the same impossible situation from his perspective.
When she opened her eyes again, Vivienne was watching her with something that might have been sympathy.
"I won't lie to you," the older woman said quietly. "Both paths are dangerous. Both require sacrifices you may not be prepared to make. But I've given you the truth from both perspectives—the human woman who wants to see you safe, and the guardian who refuses to watch her charge waste away to nothing."
"What would you do?" Mailah asked. "If you were in my position?"
Vivienne's smile was sad and knowing. "My dear girl, I've been in your position. Why do you think I've spent forty-seven years looking after creatures that could kill me without a second thought?"
She moved toward the door, her hand hovering over the handle. "The choice is yours, Mailah. But whatever you decide, don't take too long. Time is a luxury neither of you can afford."
And with that, she was gone, leaving Mailah alone with the two most impossible choices of her life.