"I’LL LET HIM FEED."
Soren’s expression shifted to one of professional focus, the warmth in his hazel eyes replaced by the sharp intensity of a doctor preparing for a delicate procedure.
He moved closer, his voice dropping to the asured tone of soone explaining a complex dical intervention.
"Given Grayson’s weakened state, we can’t rely on his usual thods," he began as he paced slowly across the sunroom’s polished floor. "Typically, an incubus forms a bond through focused intent—either by being summoned in a dream or by entering one on his own. But in his current condition..."
He paused, face grave.
"He barely has enough energy to regulate his own body. We’ll need to create the connection through proximity instead."
Mailah felt her stomach flip. "So, I just... lie next to him?"
"Essentially, yes." Soren’s clinical detachnt was sohow both reassuring and unsettling. "Skin contact will strengthen the connection. Once you’re both asleep, his incubus nature will do the rest."
The flutter in her stomach intensified.
"I need you to understand," Soren continued, his voice taking on a more serious edge, "that when an incubus feeds properly—fully—the experience is... intense. Far more intense than anything you’ve experienced in your shared dreams before. Those were restrained, controlled encounters. This will be different."
Heat crept up Mailah’s neck. Despite the life-or-death nature of their situation, the conversation felt shockingly intimate—like a taboo being dissected under fluorescent lights.
The embarrassnt deepened as another horrifying thought occurred to her.
"Will you and Vivienne be..." she began, then stopped, mortified by the very question. "I an, while we’re... in the dream... will you be able to see...?"
Understanding dawned in Soren’s eyes, followed imdiately by sothing that might have been gentle amusent.
"Ah," he said, and she could swear she detected the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You’re worried about an audience."
"Well...yes!" The words burst out of her with more force than she’d intended, cheeks hot. "I’m already terrified about what’s going to happen, and the thought of you both sitting there watching while I... while we... it’s mortifying!"
He nodded calmly. "I can assure you that whatever happens in the dreamscape will remain entirely private. To Vivienne and myself, you’ll simply appear to be sleeping peacefully beside each other. We have no more access to your dreams than we would to your private thoughts."
Relief flooded through her, almost overwhelming. "Really?"
"Really." His voice carried the weight of absolute certainty. "What happens between you and Grayson in that space will be yours alone. We’ll be monitoring your physical condition, nothing more."
Mailah sagged back into the wicker chair, pressing her palms against her heated cheeks. "Thank God. I was imagining... well, never mind what I was imagining."
"But there is sothing else you need to understand. Sothing crucial about how to protect yourself if things go wrong."
The montary relief evaporated, replaced by renewed anxiety.
"In his current weakened state, Grayson’s self-control may be... compromised. Three centuries of starvation don’t simply disappear because he’s finally allowed to feed. There’s a very real possibility that once he begins, his hunger will override his higher reasoning."
"And if that happens?"
"If he can’t stop on his own—or won’t—you’ll need to break the connection yourself. You’ll need to wake up."
Mailah frowned. "That doesn’t sound so difficult. People wake up from dreams all the ti."
"Not from dreams like this," Soren said quietly. "When an incubus is feeding fully, the dream becos incredibly imrsive. Your consciousness will be completely absorbed in the experience. Every sensation will feel absolutely real—more real than reality itself. Breaking free from that kind of ntal grip is extraordinarily difficult."
"But not impossible?"
"Not impossible, no. But you must remain lucid. Hold onto your anchor—your awareness that this is a dream."
The concept seed almost contradictory—how could she be fully imrsed in the experience while simultaneously remaining detached enough to monitor it? "How am I supposed to do that?"
"By rembering that it is a dream, no matter how real it feels. Soren stopped pacing and fixed her with his intense gaze. "By holding onto so fragnt of your true self that the incubus influence can’t touch."
Mailah rubbed her temples, feeling the beginning of a headache forming. "This is getting more complicated by the minute. Why can’t you just wake up if you see sothing’s wrong?"
Soren’s expression grew grim. "Because we won’t be able to tell. When an incubus is feeding, they naturally suppress their partner’s ability to show distress. It’s an evolutionary adaptation—prevents the prey from alerting potential rescuers. To anyone monitoring, even those with supernatural senses, you’ll look calm. Content. No matter what’s really happening in the dream."
The word ’prey’ sent a chill down her spine.
Despite all of Grayson’s gentleness, she couldn’t forget what he fundantally was—a predator designed by nature to hunt creatures like her.
"So if he loses control, I’m on my own."
"Not entirely." Soren moved closer, voice urgent. "There is one last resort, though it should only be used in truly desperate circumstances."
"What is it?"
"In the dream realm, consciousness has power. If you can achieve true lucidity—if you can rember that you’re dreaming while still dreaming—you can manifest objects through will alone. The most effective tool for breaking an incubus’s hold is a mirror."
"A mirror?" The suggestion seed almost absurdly mundane given the supernatural nature of everything else they’d discussed.
"Mirrors reflect truth," Soren explained. "They force the observer to see reality as it truly is. If you can summon a mirror in the dream and look into it, it will show you your true situation—break through any illusions created by the incubus."
Mailah tried to wrap her mind around the concept. "So I just... imagine a mirror?"
"In the dream realm, imagination and reality are the sa thing. But only use this if everything else fails—abruptly waking yourself can cause severe psychic trauma, maybe permanent. It’s not a decision to take lightly."
"Define ’severe psychic trauma.’"
Soren hesitated, clearly weighing how much truth she could handle. "Potential mory loss, psychological damage. In extre cases, catatonia."
The words hung in the air between them like a death sentence. Mailah stared at him, trying to process the full scope of what she was agreeing to. She wasn’t just risking her life—she was risking her sanity.
"So I might either be drained to death or driven insane trying to escape," she said slowly.
Mailah closed her eyes, trying to center herself amid the swirling chaos of fear and determination in her chest.
"It’s a calculated risk to save soone you care about," Soren replied with unflinching honesty. "I won’t lie to you about the dangers, but I also won’t pretend there are any good alternatives."
Mailah closed her eyes, trying to center herself amid the swirling chaos of fear and determination in her chest. When she opened them again, she found Soren watching her with sothing that looked like respect.
"I’ll need so ti alone," she said quietly. "To... get my head right."
Soren nodded with understanding. "Of course. I’ll be with Vivienne, making final preparations. When you’re ready..."
"I’ll find you," she finished.
He moved toward the door, then paused, looking back at her with an expression she couldn’t quite read. "Mailah?"
"Yes?"
"What you’re about to do... it’s extraordinarily brave. Not many people would risk everything for soone they’ve known such a short ti."
She almost laughed at the irony. If only he knew that she’d been living soone else’s life, loving soone else’s husband, carrying soone else’s mories and obligations.
Maybe it didn’t matter whose life she was supposed to be living. Maybe what mattered was who she chose to save with whatever ti she had left.
"He saved first," she said simply.
Soren’s expression softened with sothing that might have been understanding, or approval, or perhaps just recognition of a truth he’d seen played out many tis before in his long life.
"Yes," he said quietly. "He did."
And then he was gone, leaving her alone with the sunlight and the growing weight of what lay ahead.
*****************************************************************
An hour later, Mailah found herself standing beside the master bedroom’s bed, her heart hamring against her ribs like a caged bird. Grayson lay exactly as they’d left him—pale, still, barely breathing. In the dim light filtering through the heavy curtains, he looked like a marble statue of so fallen angel.
Vivienne stood at the foot of the bed, her usually perfect composure showing cracks of worry. "Are you certain about this?" she asked one final ti.
Mailah nodded, not trusting her voice. Soren had positioned monitoring equipnt around the room—devices that looked both dical and mystical, humming with quiet energy.
"Rember," Soren said softly, "physical contact to establish the connection. Once you’re both asleep, his subconscious will do the rest."
With trembling hands, Mailah climbed onto the bed beside Grayson. Even pale and unconscious, he looked so handso. She could sll his distinctive scent.
She settled beside him, her hand finding his cold fingers.
The mont their skin touched, she felt it—a spark of connection, like touching a live wire. Grayson’s breathing seed to deepen slightly, and she could have sworn she saw his eyelids flutter.
"Sleep now," Vivienne’s voice seed to co from very far away. "Let the bond guide you."
Exhaustion she hadn’t realized she was carrying suddenly crashed over her like a wave. Her eyelids grew heavy, and despite her fear, sleep pulled her under...
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