Chapter 390: The Deal 2
Mailah turned on her heel, intending to march back down the corridor with absolute authority.
Instead, a sharp spike of pain shot straight up her right knee. Her injured leg, still stiff and far from healed, gave out beneath her.
"Woah!" Mailah gasped, her hands flailing as she began to fall forward.
Before she could hit the stone floor, a pair of strong arms caught her. Grayson moved so fast he was practically a blur. He scooped her up effortlessly, bringing her close against his chest before her foot even brushed the ground.
Mailah’s heart pounded against her ribs. She gripped his shoulders, her face inches from his. "Put me down! I can walk!"
"Mailah, you can barely stand," Grayson said, his voice dropping into that quiet, firm tone that brooked no argument. His brow was furrowed, his eyes filled with a sudden, intense concern as he looked down at her bandaged leg. "You’re still hurt."
"It’s just a minor limp," she lied, wincing as she tried to shift her weight. "And I don’t need a ride. Put me down on my own two feet so I can properly intimidate you."
"You can intimidate me just fine from right here," Grayson murmured. He didn’t put her down. Instead, he adjusted his grip, carrying her bridal-style as if she weighed no more than a feather. "Rule number one was that I listen to you. It wasn’t ’let my injured wife break her ankle on ancient stone floors.’"
Mailah opened her mouth to argue, but the sheer comfort of being in his arms made her pause. He was warm, solid, and smelled like woodsmoke and fresh air. She let out a small, huffy sigh and rested her hands on his chest, refusing to look him in the eye.
"Fine," she muttered. "Consider this an official transport service. But don’t think this earns you extra credit."
"Noted," Grayson said, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he carried her down the hall toward the grand kitchen.
The estate’s kitchen was as massive as usual, built with high stone arches and an old copper stove. Grayson walked over to the long wooden island in the center of the room. Instead of setting Mailah on the cold floor, he carefully placed her on a plush, high-backed chair.
Before she could say anything, he pulled over a padded footstool and gently lifted her bad leg, resting her foot on the cushion so her knee wouldn’t ache.
Mailah watched him, her chest feeling tight. He handled her bad leg with so much care, as if she were made of fragile glass.
"Comfortable?" Grayson asked, kneeling beside her chair to double-check the angle of her leg.
"It’s... fine," Mailah said softly, clearing her throat to hide how sweet she found the gesture. She pointed a finger at the sleek espresso machine in the corner. "Alright, demon lord. Back to business. Rule number two: make the coffee."
Grayson stood up, nodding with total focus. He removed his heavy coat, leaving him in a dark shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He walked over to the coffee machine like a man preparing for a duel.
He picked up the heavy brass hand-grinder and gripped it tightly. With smooth, powerful movements, he began to turn the crank. His forearms flexed under his rolled-up sleeves with every turn. He looked absurdly dramatic, like the lead actor in a K-drama taking a simple task way too seriously.
Mailah leaned her chin on her hand, her eyes trailing over his sharp jawline and broad shoulders. Damn those cheekbones, she thought.
After a few minutes of intense work, Grayson poured the freshly ground coffee into the machine. He steamed the milk, watching the white froth swirl with extreme focus. Finally, he poured the milk into the cup and used a tiny, careful flick of his wrist to create a little foam heart on top.
He walked back over to Mailah, holding the cup out to her like a precious offering.
Mailah took the cup. The heat warmed her hands. She took a slow sip.
It was incredible. It was rich, smooth, and perfect.
Mailah set the cup down. She kept her face completely blank.
"Well?" Grayson asked, leaning down slightly, looking like a nervous student waiting for exam results. "How is it?"
"It’s okay," Mailah said plainly. "The foam heart is a bit crooked."
Grayson blinked. "Crooked? I used precise angles!"
"It’s leaning to the left, Grayson," she said, fighting a grin. "Your probation continues. Now, get the cutting board. It’s time for dinner."
Grayson took off his shirt, wearing only a thin dark grey t-shirt, and tied a simple white apron around his waist. The sight of an ancient, powerful demon in a kitchen apron was so funny and charming that Mailah had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.
"Slice the pork belly thin," Mailah instructed from her chair, her bad leg propped up on the footstool. "And no magic. Use the knife like a normal human."
Grayson picked up the chef’s knife. Chop, chop, chop, chop. The knife hit the wood in a fast, perfect rhythm. In seconds, the meat was sliced into clean, even strips.
Next came the onions. Grayson chopped them just as fast, but suddenly, he paused. He blinked rapidly. A single, shiny tear rolled down his sharp cheekbone.
Mailah gasped. "Are you... crying?"
Grayson froze. He wiped his cheek with the back of his hand, looking deeply offended. "I am a high-ranking incubus. I do not cry."
"Grayson, the onions are making you cry!" Mailah burst out laughing, clapping her hands. "The big, scary lord of the estate is getting beaten by a vegetable!"
"It is a chemical reaction involving sulfur," Grayson said stiffly, trying to look stoic while his eyes watered. "It is a flaw in human food."
"Right, blame the food," Mailah giggled. She leaned forward in her chair, gesturing for him to come closer. "Come here, big guy."
Grayson walked over and knelt beside her chair so they were eye-to-eye. Mailah picked up a soft napkin and gently dabbed the tear from his cheek.
Grayson went completely still. His dark eyes locked onto hers, deep and full of emotion. His large hand came up, resting softly on the side of her waist.
The laughter faded from Mailah’s lips. They were standing inches apart. She could feel the heat radiating from him.
"While you’re down there," Mailah said quietly, her voice softening, "are you ever going to tell me where you were for the last four weeks?"
Grayson looked down at her hands, his expression darkening with real pain.
"I was away," he whispered. "I was being a coward. I was hiding because I didn’t know how to fix what was breaking between us."
"You left me alone, Grayson," Mailah said, her voice dropping. "I was hurt. My leg was bad, I was locked in this house, and I thought... I thought you just gave up on me."
Grayson looked back up at her, his dark eyes filled with so much regret it made her heart ache.
"I know," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. "And every single day I was away, I hated myself for it. I thought I was keeping you safe from my dark side, but all I did was leave you alone when you needed me most. Seeing you hurt right now... knowing you had to deal with your leg without me... it tears me apart, Mailah."
He reached out, his warm fingers gently resting against her cheek.
"I won’t leave again," Grayson promised, his voice low and steady. "I don’t care how mad you are at me. I’m staying right here."
Mailah looked into his eyes, feeling the truth in his words. She gave a small, quiet nod and patted his shoulder. "Good. Now finish the kimchi stew before I make you chop five more onions."
Later that evening, they moved to the living room.
A warm fire crackled in the fireplace. Mailah was curled up on the soft velvet couch, a warm blanket draped over her knees. Grayson sat right beside her on the floor, gently lifting her bad leg into his lap.
He placed a soft pillow under her knee and began to rub her ankle with slow, warm movements. His hands were large and warm, and his touch instantly chased away the dull ache in her joints.
Mailah let out a quiet gasp of relief, resting her head against the back of the couch. "Oh... that actually feels amazing."
"Soren bandaged it well, but the muscles are tight," Grayson said smoothly, his thumbs working through a tight knot near her calf. "You’ve been putting too much weight on it."
"Because I was trying to escape an ancient mansion," Mailah pointed out, opening one eye to glare at him. "Which brings me to rule number three: venting time."
Grayson looked up at her, smiling slightly. "I am all ears."
"First," Mailah said, pointing at him, "Soren is creepy. He brings me weird tea and talks like a mad scientist. I want him banned from my wing."
"Done," Grayson said instantly. "If he comes near your room, I’ll throw him off the balcony."
Mailah blinked. "Wait. Just like that?"
"Just like that," he replied. "What else?"
"Second, this house is too dark. When you left, every noise sounded like a monster. We need better lights. And plants."
"I’ll buy a whole greenhouse," Grayson said without missing a beat. "You can fill it with whatever you want. I’ll water them every day."
Mailah narrowed her eyes. "You’re agreeing too fast. You’re trying to bribe me."
"I am trying to take care of my wife," Grayson corrected her softly. His thumbs continued their soothing massage on her leg. "Is that so terrible?"
Mailah looked at him sitting on the floor by her feet, completely focused on making her comfortable. The powerful demon lord was taking orders, cooking meals, and rubbing her sore leg without a single complaint.
Her heart did that warm, dangerous flutter again.
"Grayson?" she asked quietly.
"Yes, love?"
"I was really scared," she admitted softly, looking down at her hands. "I thought you left because I was too human. Too weak."
Grayson stopped moving. He shifted up onto the couch, sitting right beside her. He took both of her hands in his, bringing them to his lips and pressing a warm kiss to her knuckles.
"Look at me, Mailah," he commanded gently.
She looked up.
"You are the strongest person in this entire place," Grayson said, his voice fierce and sincere. "You stood up to this house, you stood up to Soren, and you stood up to me—all with an injured leg. You are not weak."
He reached out, his hand gently cupping her face, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone.
"I’m the one who was weak without you," he whispered. "I need you, Mailah."
Mailah felt a warm tear slip down her cheek. Grayson caught it with his thumb, looking at her with total devotion.
"Does this mean my probation is going well?" he asked softly, a tiny, hopeful smirk touching his lips.
Mailah let out a breathless laugh. She reached out, grabbing the collar of his t-shirt, and pulled him down toward her.