CHAPTER 155: CHAPTER 155: THE AGREEMENT

"I WANT TO DO IT."

Grayson went completely still.

"Mailah—"

"I know it’s public. I know it’s political. I know it’ll make me a target." She held his gaze steadily. "But you were right earlier. It’s a statement. And I want to make that statement. I want everyone at that wedding to know that I choose you. Fully. Completely. Without reservation."

For a long moment, he just stared at her like she’d offered him something he didn’t know how to accept. Then he made a sound—somewhere between a laugh and a sob—and pulled her into his arms.

"You never fail to surprise me," he murmured against her hair.

"I’m serious."

His grip tightened, and she felt the tremor run through him—control barely maintained, emotion barely contained.

"Do you understand what you’re agreeing to?" he asked, his voice rough. "It’s not just symbolic, Mailah. When I feed from you in that ritual, when I give you part of my power in return—you’ll feel everything. My hunger. My need. Every instinct I’ve spent centuries suppressing."

"I know."

"And you’ll be marked. Visibly. Anyone who looks at you will know you’re bonded to an incubus. There’s no hiding it after that."

"Good," she said fiercely.

He pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes searching hers with an intensity that stole her breath. "You’re sure?"

"I’ve never been more sure of anything."

Something shifted in his expression—the last wall crumbling, the final defense falling away. "Then yes. We’ll do the ritual."

Behind them, Lucien cleared his throat loudly. "Not to interrupt this incredibly intense moment, but did she just agree to publicly bond with you through demonic ritual feeding?"

"Yes," Grayson said, not looking away from Mailah.

"At your wedding."

"Yes."

"In front of hundreds of supernatural beings who may or may not want to kill her."

"That’s the plan."

"Just checking. Wanted to make sure I heard that correctly before I start planning my funeral outfit."

"Your what?" Elin asked.

"My funeral outfit. For when we all die at this wedding."

"No one is dying," Oliver said firmly, though he looked less certain than his words suggested.

"How can you be sure?" Lucien demanded. "We’re basically announcing to the entire supernatural world that a demon who’s been celibate for centuries is now in love with a human. That’s like... like painting a target on both of them and then standing in an open field during hunting season."

"That’s a terrible metaphor," Elin said.

"But accurate!"

Mailah pulled away from Grayson, turning to face the group. "He’s right. This is dangerous. For all of us. So I need to know—are you all in? Because if you’re not, if you have any doubts, now’s the time to say so."

The room went quiet.

Oliver spoke first. "I’m in."

"Really," Lucien muttered, but then sighed. "Fine. I’m in too. But only because someone needs to document this disaster for future generations to learn from our mistakes."

"That’s very noble of you," Elin said dryly. Then she looked at Mailah. "I’m in. Obviously."

Shadow, still perched on the armrest, meowed once—a sound that seemed to say she’d been in from the beginning and they were all just catching up.

Despite the gravity of the situation, Mailah felt warmth bloom in her chest. They were all willing to walk into danger for her. For them.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "All of you."

"Don’t thank us yet," Elin said. "Save it for after we survive the wedding."

"If we survive," Lucien added.

"When," Oliver corrected firmly. "When we survive."

Grayson stood, pulling Mailah up with him. "Right. Tomorrow we meet with Liora and finalize the security arrangements. Tonight, we rest. Tomorrow—" He paused, his jaw tightening. "Tomorrow we prepare for war."

"That’s dramatic," Lucien said.

As the group began to disperse, Mailah caught Grayson’s hand.

"Hey," she said softly. "You okay?"

He looked down at their joined hands, then back at her face. "You just agreed to bind yourself to me through a public ritual that will mark you for life, at a wedding that might turn into a battlefield. I should be asking you that question."

"I’m terrified," she admitted. "But also... excited? Is that weird?"

His lips twitched. "That’s very you."

"I’m choosing to take that as a compliment."

"It is one." He brought her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles that sent heat racing up her arm. "Mailah, I need you to understand something."

"What?"

"After the ritual—after we’re bonded—there’s no going back. Not completely. Part of me will always be connected to you. I’ll always be able to sense you, feel you. And you’ll feel me too."

Her breath caught. "Like... all the time?"

"Not every thought, every feeling. But the strong ones. The important ones. Fear. Pain. Desire." His eyes darkened on that last word. "It’s intimate in ways that go beyond physical."

"So basically you’re saying I won’t be able to hide things from you."

"And I won’t be able to hide from you." His thumb traced patterns on her palm. "No more walls. No more pretending. Just... us. Completely exposed to each other."

The weight of it settled over her—not heavy, but significant. A choice that would reshape everything.

"I want that," she said. "All of it. Even the scary parts."

"Why?" The question was barely a whisper. "Why risk so much for someone like me?"

"Because you’re not ’someone like you,’" she said. "You’re Grayson. The man who had visited my dreams. Who abstained from his nature for centuries because he didn’t want to hurt anyone. Who’s turning our wedding into a fortress because the thought of losing me terrifies you." She stepped closer, her free hand coming up to rest over his heart. "You think you’re a monster. I think you’re the bravest person I’ve ever met."

His eyes went a darker shade of blue, and she felt the power surge around him—not threatening, but barely contained. "You’re a very dangerous human woman," he said, his voice rough.

"Who might save you. We’ll see which one I would be."

"You already have," he admitted. "Saved me. You just don’t realize it yet."

Before she could respond, he kissed her—not the soft, sweet kiss from before, but something desperate and consuming. His hand slid into her hair, tilting her head back as he deepened the kiss, and Mailah felt her knees go weak.

This. This was what it would be like after the ritual. This intensity, this connection, magnified a thousand times over.

When he finally pulled back, they were both breathing hard, and his eyes had gone completely silver.

"Mailah," he said, and her name sounded like a prayer and a curse. "If we don’t stop now—"

"I know." She did know. She could feel the hunger in him, barely leashed, the way his power was pressing against her skin like a physical thing.

"Go," he said, his voice strained. "Before I forget every reason this is a terrible idea."

"This isn’t a terrible idea."

"It’s the worst idea. You agreeing to bond with me. You choosing me despite everything. It’s insane."

"Then I guess we’re both insane."

His laugh was rough but real. "Apparently so."

She stepped back reluctantly, already missing the heat of him. "I’m going to shower. And then maybe panic quietly for a while."

"That sounds healthy."

"I’m full of healthy coping mechanisms."

"Like agreeing to magical bonding rituals at potentially dangerous weddings?"

"Exactly like that."

Despite everything, he smiled—a real smile that reached his eyes and made him look younger, lighter.

As she headed for the stairs, Shadow materialized at her feet, padding alongside her like a tiny furry bodyguard.

"You approve of this madness?" Mailah asked the cat.

Shadow’s tail swished once—a clear affirmative.

"Great. Even the supernatural cat thinks I’m making good life choices. That’s... actually pretty reassuring."

She showered, changed into comfortable clothes, and was contemplating whether stress-eating Lucien’s sandwich stash was acceptable when there was a soft knock on her door.

"Come in," she called.

Grayson entered, carrying two glasses and a bottle of wine that definitely wasn’t the one from the tasting. This looked older. More expensive.

"Thought you could use this," he said, handing her a glass.

"You thought correctly." She took a sip and nearly moaned. "This is amazing. What is it?"

"Something from my personal collection. Aged about as long as I’ve been abstaining, actually."

"So we’re drinking your pain?"

"We’re drinking to new beginnings." He clinked his glass against hers. "To insane decisions and the people who make them with us."

"I’ll drink to that."

They settled onto her bed—nothing scandalous, just sitting side by side against the headboard, drinking expensive wine and pretending their lives weren’t about to become exponentially more complicated.

"Tell me about the ritual," Mailah said after a moment. "Not the political implications. The actual... mechanics of it."

Grayson was quiet for a moment, his glass resting on his knee.

"It’s simple, really. During the reception, after the vows, there’s a moment where we’ll step aside. It can be public or private—your choice—but traditionally it’s done where others can witness."

"Public," she said immediately. "If we’re making a statement, we make it properly."

He nodded, continuing. "I’ll feed from you. Not much—just enough to establish the connection. It’ll feel intense, but not painful. Like... lightning under your skin. Heat without burning."

"And then?"

"Then I’ll give you part of my power in return. You’ll feel it settle into you—cold at first, then warm. Your senses will sharpen. You’ll be faster, stronger, harder to harm. It’ll last a few hours, maybe half a day."

"And the marking?"

His hand came up to trace along her collarbone, and she shivered. "Here. A pattern that looks like... silver frost. Beautiful, but unmistakable."

"Will it hurt?"

He paused, seeming to search for words.