Chapter 428: The Flash

Later that afternoon, the house grew quiet. Mason had returned to the main manor, and Chloe was upstairs in her room, blasting loud music and trying on different neon coats.

In the glass sunroom at the back of the estate, warm light poured through the tall windows, illuminating the lush green plants and vibrant flowers Mailah had arranged.

Mailah sat on a soft cushioned bench, a small wooden basket of fresh yellow wildflowers resting beside her. Her fingers worked carefully as she tried to weave the delicate stems together into a simple flower crown, but a stem snapped, making her let out a soft, amused laugh.

Grayson stepped into the sunroom quietly. He had finally taken off the duck apron, returning to a simple black silk shirt with the top buttons undone. He walked over like a dark panther, sliding onto the bench beside her and wrapping one long arm around her shoulders to pull her against his chest.

"What are you making, my love?" Grayson asked softly, resting his chin on her head.

"A flower crown," Mailah said, smiling as she held up the half-braided yellow blooms. "Though the stems keep snapping. I used to try making these with Lailah when I was younger, but they always fell apart in my hands."

Grayson leaned down, gazing intently at the bright yellow flowers resting in her small hands.

He stared at the delicate blooms for a long moment. Suddenly, his breath hitched.

A sharp, strange sensation flared behind his eyes. The room seemed to quiet down, the ambient sound of the wind outside fading away into absolute silence. A bright flash of memory—lost in the mist of the ancient spell—burst open in his mind.

He didn’t see the sunroom.

He saw a vast field of yellow grass.

He felt the cold wind blowing through his hair and smelled the rich scent of rain and leather. He saw a heavy black motorcycle parked right at the edge of the overlook. Mailah was sitting on the leather seat, gripping the handlebars with wide, nervous eyes, while he leaned close behind her, wrapping his arms around her to cover her small hands with his own. He saw himself in human clothes, laughing softly against her ear as he helped her balance the heavy bike, looking at her with the exact same breathless, aching love he felt right now.

Grayson blinked rapidly, the sudden memory fragment fading back into the quiet afternoon light. His chest heaved as he let out a sharp breath.

Mailah felt his body tense. She turned her head, looking up at his face with immediate concern. "Grayson? What’s wrong? Are you okay?"

Grayson didn’t speak right away. His blue eyes were wide, filled with an overwhelming, emotional warmth that seemed to shine from the very depths of his soul. He reached out, his long, trembling fingers gently cupping her jawline.

"I remembered," Grayson whispered, his voice hoarse and raw with emotion.

Mailah’s eyes widened. "What?"

"A memory," Grayson rasped, a single, tender smile breaking across his sharp features. "From my time on Earth... before my memories were taken. We were standing on a high cliff, looking down at a city. There was a heavy black motorcycle, and the wind was cool. You were sitting on the seat, gripping the handles so tightly your hands were shaking, and I was leaning right behind you, holding your wrists to keep you steady..."

Mailah’s breath hitched, her eyes widening in pure shock. "The mountain overlook..." she gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "Grayson, that was the day you tried to teach me how to ride your motorcycle!"

"You kept squeezing the brake too hard," Grayson murmured softly, a deep, handsome chuckle escaping his chest as tears of realization shone in his eyes.

Mailah felt happy tears spill over her eyelashes. She placed her hands over his on her face, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs. "You really remember that?"

"The witch’s magic took my past," Grayson whispered, leaning down until their noses touched, his eyes locking onto hers with terrifying, beautiful devotion. "It erased my years, my timeline, and my thoughts. But it could not erase you. My mind forgot the place, Mailah, but my heart kept every single beat it ever spent holding you on that cliff."

Mailah let out a soft, choked sob of happiness, throwing her arms around his broad neck and pulling him close. Grayson wrapped his strong arms around her waist, lifting her into his lap and holding her so tightly it felt as though he would merge their two souls into one.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her sweet, familiar scent.

"Even if they wipe my mind a thousand times," Grayson whispered fiercely against her skin, "my soul will always find its way back to you. You are my home, Mailah. My first thought, my last breath, and my only truth."

Mailah pulled back slightly, framing his handsome, aristocratic face with her small hands. She leaned in, pressing her lips against his in a deep, slow kiss that was sweet with tears and rich with pure, eternal devotion.

Grayson kissed her back with gentle reverence, his large hands resting possessively over her waist, anchoring her to him.

From the hallway outside the sunroom, the sudden loud sound of a plate crashing onto the floor shattered the quiet moment.

"Oops!" Chloe’s voice yelled from the corridor. "Grayson! I dropped a plate of cookies! And your butler is looking at me like he wants to feed me to a dragon!"

Grayson pulled back from the kiss slowly, resting his forehead against Mailah’s. He let out a long, dramatic sigh, though a genuine smile remained on his lips.

"I am definitely throwing her off the roof," Grayson murmured softly.

Mailah laughed brightly, kissing his jawline. "No, you won’t. Come on. Let’s go save Chloe from the butler."

Grayson looked down at his wife, his dark eyes shining with absolute, everlasting love. He took her hand, kissing her knuckles with royal grace.

"As you wish, my queen," Grayson smiled. "Lead the way."

Grayson stood up, keeping Mailah’s small hand locked tightly in his long fingers. They walked out of the sunroom together, stepping into the grand hallway.

The scene near the kitchen door was pure comedy.

Chloe was down on her knees on the expensive rug, wearing her oversized sweatpants and bright yellow cat slippers. A heavy ceramic plate lay shattered in front of her, surrounding a pile of crushed chocolate cookies. Standing over her was Mrs. Baker. She stood completely still, her hands folded behind her back, staring down at Chloe with the quiet, terrifying judgment of an ancient stone statue.

"I told you the plate was hot," she said flatly, his voice smooth and cold. "If you had waited two seconds for a tray, Miss Chloe, the floor would remain unsoiled."

"It wasn’t my fault!" Chloe yelled, holding up a half-broken cookie. "The plate slipped! Your gloves are too shiny! Besides, five-second rule!"

"There is no five-second rule on a fifteen-hundred-dollar Persian rug," Grayson’s deep voice boomed down the corridor.

Chloe jumped, looking up with wide eyes. "Grayson! Tell your butler to stop staring at me! She looks like she’s going to turn me into a frog!"

Grayson stopped in front of her, his broad shoulders blocking the hallway light. He crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at his cousin with supreme aristocratic disapproval. "If Mrs. Baker turned you into a frog, it would be a major upgrade for this household. At least frogs do not ruin my carpets."

Mailah giggled, gently nudging Grayson’s elbow. "Stop being mean to her, Grayson."

Instantly, Grayson’s harsh glare vanished. He turned to Mailah, his eyes softening into pure warmth. "I am merely teaching her life lessons, my love. A dark lord must maintain high standards."

"You wear duckling aprons!" Chloe shouted from the floor.

"Silence!" Grayson snapped, pointing a long finger at her, though his cheek twitched slightly. "You are banned from the kitchen for twenty-four hours!"

Mailah knelt down beside Chloe, ignoring Grayson’s dramatic posture, and began helping her pick up the broken pieces of ceramic. "Are you hurt, Chloe? Did any glass cut your hands?"

Chloe blinked, surprised by Mailah’s gentle care. "No... I’m fine. Just stupidly clumsy."

Grayson watched Mailah crouch on the floor, his heart doing a sudden, dramatic flip. The sight of his gentle wife caring for the trouble-making brat made a deep warmth spread through his chest. But after three seconds of watching Mailah give her attention to Chloe, the great demon prince grew selfish.

He stepped forward, reaching down with large, strong hands, and scooped Mailah right off her feet into his arms before she could touch another piece of broken plate.

"Grayson!" Mailah gasped softly, her hands clutching his black silk shirt as he pulled her up against his chest.

"My wife does not clean floor messes," Grayson declared grandly, holding Mailah like a precious glass statue. He looked over at the head butler. "Mrs. Baker, clean this up immediately. And bring my wife a tray of warm tea and soft lemon tarts in the drawing room."

"Right away, Mr. Ashford," Mrs. Baker bowed smoothly, hiding a faint, knowing smile.

Chloe groaned, leaning her head against the wall. "You two are impossible. Is every single day in this house going to be a romance show?"

Grayson carried Mailah down the hall, holding her tight against his heart, his eyes shining with unstoppable pride. "Yes," he stated simply, looking down at Mailah’s blushing face. "Every single day. For the rest of eternity."