Grayson’s hand remained firm over Mailah’s as they made their way toward the buffet, his presence a warm anchor in the sea of supernatural elegance that surrounded them.
By the ti they reentered, the ballroom was thrumming with bodies and unseen power, a pressure that raised the fine hairs along Mailah’s arms.
"Keep close," he breathed, his thumb ghosting across her knuckles, tenderness woven through the urgency in his tone.
The buffet was a masterpiece of excess—crystal platters laden with delicacies that looked too perfect to be entirely natural, champagne fountains that sparkled with more than just bubbles, and an array of foods that ranged from recognizably human to mysteriously ethereal.
Mailah caught sight of what looked like fruit that glowed with its own inner light, and decided she’d stick to the more mundane offerings.
"The glowing stuff is perfectly safe," Grayson said, noticing her hesitation. "It’s actually quite good. Enhanced apples from the Seelie courts—they taste like starlight and honey."
"Starlight has a taste?" Mailah asked, reaching for a more conventional-looking canapé instead.
"Everything has a taste when you’ve lived as long as I have," he replied, then paused, his expression growing thoughtful. "Though I suppose that’s sothing you’ll discover for yourself, now."
The casual reference to their shared future made her pulse quicken.
Despite everything—the dangerous brothers, the supernatural politics—Grayson still spoke as if their life together was a certainty rather than a possibility.
"About that," she began, then stopped as she noticed they’d attracted an audience.
Several elegantly dressed beings had positioned themselves within obvious earshot, their conversations too quiet and their glances too frequent to be coincidental.
A woman with alabaster skin and hair like spun silver watched them with keen interest, while a man whose eyes held flecks of gold made no attempt to hide his scrutiny.
"We’re being watched," Mailah whispered, moving closer to Grayson under the pretense of reaching for a glass of what she hoped was normal champagne.
"Always," he confird, his voice low and intimate. "The mont we walked through those doors, we beca the evening’s primary entertainnt."
"Because of ?"
"Because of us." His hand settled at the small of her back, the touch both protective and possessive. "A demon who’s spent centuries in isolation suddenly appearing with a human wife is the kind of gossip that sustains these gatherings for decades."
Mailah felt the weight of all those supernatural gazes and tried not to squirm. "Any advice on how to handle being a conversation piece?"
"Act like you belong here," Grayson said, then added with a hint of dark humor, "And try not to let anyone know how terrifying you find all of this."
"I’m not terrified," Mailah protested, then reconsidered. "Okay, I’m a little terrified. But also fascinated. It’s like being inside a fairy tale, except the fairy tale might eat ."
Grayson’s laugh was low and genuine, the sound drawing more attention from their watchers. "That’s remarkably accurate, actually."
"Which part? The fairy tale or the eating?"
"Both."
Before Mailah could respond to that unsettling confirmation, a new voice cut through their conversation like silk-wrapped steel.
"How deliciously dostic."
They turned to find a woman approaching, her beauty so perfect it seed almost artificial.
Jet-black hair fell in waves past her shoulders, and her dress—if it could be called that—appeared to be made of liquid shadow that shifted and flowed with each step. But it was her eyes that made Mailah’s breath catch: they were the color of fresh blood, and they held an intelligence that felt ancient and predatory.
Grayson’s entire body went rigid. "Morrigan."
"Hello, darling," the woman purred, her gaze flicking over Mailah with obvious dismissal before returning to Grayson. "You look... different. More substantial sohow. I do hope you haven’t been neglecting your nature entirely."
The undercurrent in her words made Mailah’s skin crawl, though she couldn’t quite pinpoint why. There was history here, the kind that left scars, and the possessive way Morrigan looked at Grayson made every instinct Mailah possessed scream warnings.
"Morrigan," Grayson said again, his voice carefully neutral, "I wasn’t aware you’d be attending."
"Miss this? Never," she replied, baring a smile that glinted too sharp to be kind. "Particularly when the entertainnt is so... riveting."
Her attention shifted to Mailah then, and being the focus of that blood-red gaze felt like being examined by a particularly elegant predator.
"So you’re the fragile little mortal who’s managed to snare Grayson’s eye," Seraphina said, her tone dripping with false sweetness. "How... quaint."
Mailah felt heat rise in her cheeks, but before she could formulate a response that wouldn’t start a supernatural incident, Grayson stepped slightly forward, positioning himself between them.
"Mailah is my wife," he said, his voice carrying an edge that made the nearby conversations falter. "I trust she’ll be treated with the respect due that position."
"Of course," Morrigan agreed, though her smile suggested otherwise. "Though I do wonder... does she know what she’s married into? The full scope of what you are, what you require?"
The question slithered into the space between them, and Mailah could feel the attention of every supernatural being within hearing distance focus on them with laser intensity. This wasn’t just casual conversation—it was so kind of test, a public examination of the bond between her and Grayson.
"I know enough," Mailah said, surprised by the steadiness in her own voice. "I know he’s complicated, dangerous, and has questionable family mbers. Still, who doesn’t co with baggage?"
A ripple of surprised laughter moved through their audience, and even Morrigan’s eyebrows rose slightly.
"Interesting----the human has claws" she said, though there was no warmth in her appreciation. "Honesty’s charming. Whether it will see you through what’s next is another matter."
"What challenges?" Mailah asked, despite Grayson’s subtle attempt to steer her away from the conversation.
Morrigan’s smile widened, showing more of those unsettling teeth. "Why, the challenges that co with loving sothing that isn’t entirely capable of loving you back, of course. Demons aren’t built for the kind of devotion mortals crave, dear. We’re built for consumption."
Her chest constricted at Morrigan’s words—not because they cut, but because they stirred the very doubts she’d fought to keep buried. Grayson’s grip fird against her hand, but his refusal to speak was its own kind of wound.
"That’s enough," he said quietly, but there was steel beneath the calm.
"Is it?" Morrigan tilted her head, studying them both with obvious fascination. "Because I think we’re just getting to the interesting parts. Tell , little mortal, what do you think will happen when his nature eventually overrides whatever human sentint he’s convinced himself he feels? What will you do when feeding becos more important than protecting you?"
"The sa thing I’d do if any relationship reached its natural end," Mailah replied, her voice sharper than she’d intended. "Deal with it like an adult and move on."
"Assuming you survive to move on," Morrigan added with mock concern.
This ti, Grayson’s response was imdiate and lethal. "Enough."
The single word carried such authority that conversations throughout the nearby area stopped entirely.
The temperature in the imdiate vicinity seed to drop several degrees, and Mailah could have sworn she saw shadows gather around Grayson’s feet like living things.
Morrigan, however, looked delighted by the display.
"There he is," she breathed, her eyes lighting up with genuine pleasure. "The demon I rember. How long has it been since you’ve shown your true nature so openly, darling?"
"Not long enough," Grayson replied, his voice deadly quiet.
"Oh, but I think it’s been far too long," Morrigan countered. She moved closer, seemingly unbothered by the supernatural nace radiating from him. "You’ve been playing human for so long, I was beginning to wonder if you’d forgotten what you really are."
"I haven’t forgotten anything."
"Haven’t you?" Her gaze flicked aningfully to Mailah. "Because this sweet dostic fantasy you’ve built seems designed to help you do exactly that."
Mailah had heard enough. The conversation was clearly so kind of supernatural power play that she didn’t fully understand, but she understood enough to know that Morrigan was deliberately trying to undermine whatever she and Grayson had built together.
"You know what I think?" she said, stepping forward so that she was no longer sheltered behind Grayson’s protective stance.
"I think you’re jealous."
The reaction was imdiate and electric.
Morrigan’s flawless beauty fractured, her features twisting into sothing far more unsettling as the air snapped with sudden tension.
Several nearby guests took obvious steps backward, and Mailah belatedly realized she might have made a tactical error.
"Jealous?" Morrigan’s voice was silk wrapped around a blade. "Of a mortal who’ll be dead in the blink of an eye while I remain eternal?"
"Jealous that a mortal accomplished sothing you couldn’t," Mailah clarified, her heart hamring but her voice steady. "Making him happy."
A suffocating hush fell over the room, heavier than any words could be.
Even the orchestra seed to pause, leaving only the sound of Mailah’s pulse thundering in her ears and the awareness that every supernatural being in the imdiate vicinity was staring at her with expressions ranging from shock to admiration to barely concealed hunger.
Morrigan’s laugh, when it finally ca, was like breaking glass.
"Oh, my dear little mortal," she said, her voice soft and deadly. "You have no idea what you’ve just invited."
Before Mailah could ask what that ant, Grayson’s arm was around her waist, pulling her against his side with enough force to make her gasp.
"This conversation is over," he announced, his voice carrying to every corner of the ballroom despite its quiet intensity. "Anyone who has a problem with that is welco to discuss it with . Privately."
The threat was unmistakable, and Mailah watched with fascination as several beings who looked like they could level city blocks suddenly found reasons to examine their champagne glasses or engage in urgent conversations with other people.
Morrigan, however, continued to smile.
"Until next ti, darling," she said to Grayson, then turned that blood-red gaze on Mailah. "And congratulations on your... marriage. I do hope you both get everything you deserve."
With that cryptic statent, she glided away, her shadow-dress flowing behind her like liquid night.
The mont she was gone, Grayson turned to Mailah, his expression intense with concern and sothing that might have been admiration.
"Are you insane?" he asked, though his tone suggested he wasn’t entirely displeased with her performance.
"Probably," Mailah admitted, suddenly aware that her hands were shaking. "Was that incredibly stupid?"
"Incredibly," he confird. "And incredibly brave."
"Brave or stupid," she said, watching Morrigan disappear into the crowd, "I have a feeling I just made more enemies."
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