Chapter 74: Chapter 74: The Point of No Return
THE SHADOWS pressed closer, and she could feel hunger beginning to circle like sharks drawn to blood in the water.
Time was running out, and everything depended on what happened next.
"Grayson." Kieran’s voice cut through the dreamscape like a blade of ice, but it seemed to come from a vast distance. "You need to stop. Now."
But Grayson was beyond hearing, beyond caring about anything except the intoxicating taste of her life force flowing into him like liquid starlight.
His incubus nature had taken the reins completely, drowning out the careful humanity he’d cultivated for centuries.
In the physical realm, Kieran watched with growing alarm as both bodies trembled on the chaise.
Mailah’s skin had taken on an alabaster pallor that spoke of dangerous depletion, while Grayson’s form practically vibrated with supernatural energy.
"This is madness," Kieran muttered, his golden eyes flickering between the two figures.
He could see the feeding connection between them—a writhing cord of silver and shadow that pulsed with each heartbeat, each breath, each stolen fragment of Mailah’s essence.
Within the dreamscape, Mailah’s seductive subconscious showed no signs of self-preservation. If anything, she seemed to revel in the dangerous dance they were performing on the knife’s edge of death.
"Take it all," she whispered against Grayson’s mouth, her transformed body arching into his with desperate hunger. "Every last drop. I want to feel you consume me completely."
Her words were like gasoline on a fire that was already threatening to burn down everything in its path.
Grayson’s response was a growl that contained nothing human—pure demon, pure predator finally unleashed after centuries of starvation. His hands roamed her body with possessive claim, leaving trails of fire wherever he touched.
The dreamscape around them began to fracture, reality bending under the weight of their combined desires.
What had started as a controlled feeding was rapidly spiraling into something that could destroy them both.
"Grayson!" Kieran’s voice cracked like a whip through the den, sharper now, laced with genuine fear. "If you don’t stop, I’ll be forced to sever the connection. And that will damage you both beyond repair."
But his warning fell on deaf ears. Grayson was too deep in the feeding frenzy. The careful control he’d maintained was nothing but ash now, burned away by Mailah’s relentless seduction.
In the physical world, Mailah’s breathing had become shallow, her pulse fluttering like a trapped bird’s wings. Her skin was translucent now, veins visible beneath the surface like delicate blue lace.
Kieran cursed in a language older than civilization, his usual casual demeanor replaced by urgency.
This was exactly what he’d feared—exactly why he’d insisted on supervising the feeding in the first place.
Within the dream, the seductress version of Mailah was becoming more translucent with each passing moment, yet she continued to pour herself into Grayson with reckless abandon.
"More," she gasped, her voice growing fainter even as her desire burned brighter. "Don’t stop, don’t ever stop..."
But her form was beginning to flicker now, like a candle flame guttering in the wind. The price of her generosity was becoming visible even in this realm where desire ruled over logic.
Grayson’s feeding had become voracious. He drank deeply from her essence, his supernatural form growing more solid and powerful with each stolen breath, each claimed heartbeat.
Yet with each surge of power, his humanity dimmed further.
The gentle man who had taught her to make pasta, who had held her through nightmares, was disappearing beneath layers of primal hunger.
"Kieran," Mailah’s physical voice barely whispered in the den, so faint it was nearly lost beneath the sound of flickering candles. "Help..."
That single word galvanized Kieran into action. He moved toward the chaise, his golden eyes blazing as he prepared to forcibly sever the connection between the feeding pair.
But as his hands reached for Mailah’s temples, her breathing stopped entirely.
The silence in the den was deafening—no gentle rise and fall of her chest, no whisper of air passing through her lips. Her pulse, when Kieran pressed desperate fingers to her throat, was barely a thread.
"Damn it, Grayson!" Kieran snarled, but there was no response from the incubus lost in his feeding trance.
Time was running out with devastating speed.
Kieran positioned himself over Mailah’s still form, his hands moving to her chest as he prepared to begin CPR. Her skin was cold beneath his touch, alabaster marble that spoke of a life slipping away.
But just as he was about to begin chest compressions, a familiar voice stopped him cold.
"Don’t touch her."
Kieran’s head snapped up to find Grayson’s storm-blue eyes staring at him with laser focus. The incubus had somehow pulled himself back from the feeding trance, though his form still trembled with residual supernatural energy.
"You’re conscious," Kieran said, surprise evident in his voice. "How did you—"
"Move aside," Grayson commanded, his voice rough but undeniably human once more.
Kieran rolled his eyes but stepped back, allowing Grayson to take position over Mailah’s motionless form. "By all means, clean up your own mess."
But there was no time for recriminations. Grayson’s hands moved with practiced precision, positioning Mailah’s head as he tilted her chin up to clear her airway. His mouth covered hers, breathing life back into lungs that had forgotten how to function.
One breath, then another, then his hands found the spot just right below her chest.
The compressions were firm and steady, each one an attempt to coax her heart back into rhythm.
"Come on, Mailah," he whispered between breaths, his voice carrying a desperation that made Kieran look away. "Come back to me. You promised you could handle this. Prove it."
The moments stretched like hours, each compression a prayer, each breath a plea to whatever gods might be listening.
Kieran watched in tense silence, his golden eyes fixed on Mailah’s pale face. He’d seen humans die from overfeeding before—it was an occupational hazard of their kind.
"She’s not responding," Kieran said quietly, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. "Grayson, it may be too late."
But Grayson ignored him, continuing the rhythmic cycle of breaths and compressions with stubborn determination. His hands were steady despite the tremor of exhaustion that ran through his supernatural form.
"She’s stronger than this," he insisted, tilting her head back to breathe into her lungs once more. "She faced down my full feeding, challenged me in the dreamscape. She’s not going to die from the aftermath."
Yet Mailah remained still, her skin growing colder with each passing second.
Grayson positioned his hands again, pressing down with controlled force.
The effect was immediate.
Mailah’s body convulsed suddenly, her back arching off the chaise as her lungs dragged in a desperate gasp of air. It was the sound of someone breaking the surface after nearly drowning, raw and desperate and utterly alive.
Her eyes flew open, wide and unfocused, as her chest heaved with the effort of breathing.
For a moment, she seemed to look right through both men, as if she were seeing into some other realm entirely.
"Mailah." Grayson’s voice was rough with relief as he cupped her face in his hands. "Can you hear me?"
Her gaze slowly focused on his face, recognition dawning in eyes that had been vacant moments before.
When she spoke, her voice was a mere whisper, but it carried the weight of someone who had seen the edge of eternity.
"I saw her," she breathed, her words so soft that both incubi had to lean closer to hear them.
"Saw who?" Kieran asked, his golden eyes sharp with sudden interest.
But Mailah’s attention was entirely fixed on Grayson, her hand reaching up to trace the strong line of his jaw with trembling fingers.
"Lailah," she whispered, and the name sent a chill through Grayson. "She was waiting for me. She said..." Mailah’s voice trailed off, her eyes growing distant again.
"What did she say?" Grayson asked urgently, his hands still framing her face as if he could anchor her to the living world through touch alone.
Mailah’s lips curved in a smile that was both beautiful and terrifying in its otherworldly serenity.
"She said the real test hasn’t even begun yet," she murmured, her voice growing stronger with each word.
Before either man could respond, the massive front doors of the estate crashed open with a sound like thunder.
The candles flickered violently in the sudden rush of cold air, and Kieran was on his feet instantly, his supernatural senses on high alert.
Heavy footsteps echoed through the corridors, purposeful and unhurried, as if the intruder had every right to be there.
"Expecting someone?" Kieran asked Grayson, his voice tight with suspicion.
But Grayson’s expression had gone carefully blank, the mask of indifference he’d worn for centuries sliding back into place with practiced ease.
"My brother," he said simply, though there was something in his tone that suggested this was not a welcome visit.
The footsteps grew closer, and Mailah struggled to sit up on the chaise, her body still weak from the feeding but her eyes bright with curiosity and apprehension.
"Which one?" Kieran asked, moving to position himself between the doorway and the chaise. "Which brother?"
The footsteps stopped just outside the den, and in the silence that followed, Mailah could hear her own heartbeat thundering in her ears.
When the door opened, a voice spoke from the shadows—deep, cultured, and carrying the kind of authority that made even powerful demons take notice.
"Hello, brother," the voice said, rich with dark amusement. "I see you’ve finally fed. Welcome back."
The doorway filled with a figure that made Mailah’s breath catch for entirely different reasons than fear.
He’s obviously one of the Ashford brothers.
He stepped into the candlelit den like a fallen angel claiming dominion over hell itself.
The question was—of the two brothers she had yet to meet, which one stood before them now?
Was it Ravenson? Or Lucson?