Chapter 429: The Ride 1

Grayson carried Mailah into the grand drawing room as if she were a fragile treasure made of fine glass.

He didn’t simply set her down on the velvet sofa. He lowered her with extreme care, fluffing three silk pillows behind her back, arranging the hem of her soft dress, and lifting her feet to rest on a plush footstool.

Mailah laughed softly, her cheeks glowing. "Grayson, I only walked down the hallway. I didn’t run a marathon."

"You were touching broken glass on the floor," Grayson said, his deep voice sounding grave and dark. He sat right beside her, so close that his broad shoulder pressed against hers. "A single scratch on your skin is an insult to my entire existence. If your finger bled, I would have been forced to burn that Persian rug to ash."

"It was just a cookie plate," Mailah teased, reaching out to smooth down the collar of his black silk shirt. "And Chloe was the one who dropped it."

At the mention of Chloe, Grayson’s dark eyebrows pulled together into a petty sulk. He looked away toward the fireplace, crossing his broad arms over his chest. His posture was imposing and grand, yet his expression looked exactly like a moody lord who had been deeply wronged.

"You looked at her first," Grayson grumbled flatly.

Mailah blinked, thoroughly amused. "What?"

"When you knelt on the floor," Grayson continued, his tone dripping with dramatic sadness. "You asked her if her hands were hurt. You gave her your gentle smile. You did not look at me for a full seven seconds."

Mailah gasped softly, a sweet, bubbling giggle escaping her lips. "Grayson Ashford! Are you honestly jealous of a teenager who just smashed a plate of chocolate cookies?"

"I am an ancient dark lord," Grayson declared with absolute seriousness, turning his head to look at her with dark, fiery eyes. "I do not get ’jealous.’ I simply demand total and undivided loyalty from my queen. My heart burns for you every second of every day, yet you waste your precious concern on a child who wears yellow cat slippers."

"You are ridiculous," Mailah whispered affectionately.

She leaned in, wrapping her arms around his neck, and pressed a warm, soft kiss against his sharp jawline.

Instantly, the dark lord’s stern face melted. The terrifying authority in his eyes vanished, replaced by a look of helpless, swooning devotion. He let out a low breath, his large hands immediately coming around her waist to pull her right onto his lap. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her sweet scent with a deep, contented sigh.

"Do that again," Grayson murmured against her skin, his hands tightening possessively around her waist.

"Do what?" Mailah smiled, running her fingers through his thick black hair.

"Kiss me until I forget my own name," Grayson rasped softly. "It is the only acceptable punishment for your crimes."

Before Mailah could answer, the door of the drawing room opened silently. Mrs. Baker walked in, carrying a silver tray with a steaming porcelain teapot, two tea cups, and a plate of freshly baked lemon tarts.

Mrs. Baker didn’t even bat an eye at the sight of the terrifying demon lord nuzzling his wife’s neck like a needy puppy. She set the tray down on the low marble table with perfect grace.

"Your tea, Mrs. Ashford," Mrs. Baker said smoothly. "And fresh lemon tarts, just as Lord Grayson requested."

"Thank you, Mrs. Baker," Mailah said, trying to sit up properly.

Grayson, however, refused to let go. He kept one strong arm locked securely around Mailah’s waist, keeping her glued to his lap. He used his free hand to pick up a delicate silver fork and carefully cut a small piece of lemon tart.

"Open your mouth, my love," Grayson commanded gently, holding the fork up to her lips with intense, dramatic focus. "If the lemon is too sour, tell me instantly. I will personally reprimand the baker who grew the fruit."

"Grayson, I can hold my own fork," Mailah laughed, though her face flushed a pretty pink.

"Nonsense," Grayson stated firmly. "It brings me eternal joy to feed you. Now, say ’ah’."

Mailah yielded with a sweet smile, taking the bite from his fork. The tart was sweet, buttery, and perfectly tangy. "It’s delicious," she declared.

Grayson looked as proud as if he had just conquered three kingdoms. He set the fork down and leaned in to kiss the corner of her lips, catching a tiny drop of sweet lemon cream. "Everything tastes better when I share it with you," he whispered softly, his dark eyes shining with pure romance.

An hour later, Grayson stood in the grand subterranean garage beneath the Ashford estate.

The garage was silent, cool, and filled with several sleek black sports cars and vintage vehicles. But Grayson wasn’t looking at the luxury cars. He stood in front of a shadowy corner, staring at a large object covered by a heavy black silk tarp.

Mailah walked down the polished stone steps, her small shoes clicking softly against the floor. She watched him from a few feet away. Grayson looked like a dark shadow in the quiet garage, his posture tense, his eyes fixed on the covered machine.

"Grayson?" Mailah called softly.

Grayson turned his head, his sharp features softening the moment he saw her. He extended his long hand toward her. "Come here, my eternal light."

Mailah walked over, slipping her hand into his warm, firm grip. Grayson led her closer to the tarp. With a slow, dramatic sweep of his arm, he pulled the silk cover away.

Dust motes danced in the dim light, revealing a heavy, custom-built black motorcycle. The metal was polished to a high shine, dark leather lined the double seat, and the handles were wrapped in worn, dark leather. It looked powerful, wild, and ancient—just like its owner.

Mailah’s eyes widened in recognition. "It’s... the bike from your memory."

"Yes," Grayson whispered, his deep voice carrying a quiet reverence. He reached out, his long fingers gently tracing the cold metallic surface of the gas tank. "When I saw it in my mind earlier... when I remembered holding you on that windy cliff... I felt a pull in my soul. I knew it was still here, waiting in the dark."

Mailah stepped closer, placing her hand right beside his on the dark leather seat. "You really tried to teach me how to ride this monster?"

Grayson let out a low, handsome laugh that echoed richly through the stone garage. He turned to face her, his hands coming up to rest on her hips. "You were terrified. You insisted that two wheels were not enough to hold a human safely. You gripped my arms so hard you left tiny red marks on my skin."

"And what did you do?" Mailah asked, tilting her head with a teasing smile.

"I wrapped myself around you," Grayson rasped, his eyes locking onto hers with intense warmth. "I told you that as long as I was holding you, the earth itself could split open beneath us and you would not fall."

He reached behind him, picking up a heavy black leather jacket that rested on a wooden stool nearby. Without a word, he draped the large jacket over Mailah’s shoulders. The jacket was far too big for her small frame, the sleeves covering her hands completely and the scent of rain, cedar, and Grayson’s warm cologne wrapping around her instantly.

Mailah looked down at herself, swimming in his huge coat, and let out a soft laugh. "I look ridiculous, Grayson."

"You look divine," Grayson corrected instantly, his voice thick with possessive pride. He reached down, carefully rolling up the long leather sleeves so her small hands could pop out. "You look like you belong to me. Which is the highest form of beauty in this world."

He swung one long leg over the heavy motorcycle, sitting on the plush leather seat. He patted the space right in front of him.

"Sit with me," Grayson requested gently. "Just like that night on the cliff."

Mailah didn’t hesitate. She stepped up and sat back onto the motorcycle seat, sliding right between his long legs.

The moment she sat down, Grayson leaned forward. He wrapped his broad arms around her waist from behind, pulling her back flush against his broad chest. He reached forward, taking her small hands and guiding them to grip the dark rubber handlebars, covering her fingers entirely with his large, warm hands.

The position was exact.

Mailah’s breath hitched as a sudden, powerful wave of warmth washed over her. She leaned her head back against his shoulder, closing her eyes. She could feel the steady, powerful thud of his heart beating right against her spine.

"Do you feel it?" Grayson murmured against her ear, his warm breath tickling her skin and making a shiver run down her back. "The memory... it isn’t just in my mind anymore, Mailah. It is right here between us."

"I feel it," Mailah whispered softly, turning her face slightly to look up into his striking blue eyes. "You were so patient with me that night. You sat in the freezing wind for hours without complaining once."

Grayson smirked, a wicked, breathtaking curve of his lips. "I would have stayed on that cliff for a hundred years if it meant keeping your hands in mine. I was a dark lord who cared for nothing in this world... until a fragile human woman sat on my motorcycle and stole my entire soul without even trying."

He leaned down, pressing his lips to her exposed neck in a series of slow, deep kisses that made Mailah gasp softly. His hands tightened around hers on the handlebars, holding her with a fierce, absolute protection that made her feel safer than anywhere else on earth.

"Grayson..." Mailah breathed, her fingers tightening on the handles.

"I am right here, my love," Grayson murmured against her throat. "I will always be right here."