CHAPTER 38: CHAPTER 38: THE FEEDING

"SLEEP NOW," Vivienne’s voice seemed to come 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...

She gasped softly, upright in an unfamiliar place. The air smelled wild and rich, full of pine, earth, and something faintly floral.

A forest stretched around her—ancient trees towering like silent watchers, the canopy dappling golden light onto a mossy, sunlit floor.

The atmosphere shimmered with the dreamlike clarity that only dreams carry—where every leaf seemed painted by an unseen artist, and every sound echoed with meaning.

She looked down.

Barefoot. White slip dress. Classic.

Her breath hitched.

A dream.

She remembered.

Stay lucid, she told herself.

She stepped forward, and the earth gave slightly beneath her feet. It wasn’t cold. It was... perfect. The kind of day that never quite exists in the real world.

A breeze stirred her hair, and in it came a scent—familiar. Leather, fire, cedarwood.

Grayson.

Then rain hit the forest canopy like a soft drumbeat, rhythmic and hypnotic.

Mailah stood under the shadows of towering trees, the air thick with petrichor and something far more dangerous—anticipation.

She was lucid. At least, she thought she was.

She turned slowly, heart thudding. The forest was quiet, but it wasn’t empty.

When she heard the rain begin to fall harder, she froze. This wasn’t how her dreams with Grayson usually began. There was always heat. Darkness. Whispers. Not this eerie, wet silence and cold.

Then she saw him.

Grayson stepped out from behind the trees, soaked to the skin, his hair dripping. Water trickled down the sharp lines of his jaw and over his chest—his bare, glistening chest.

He wasn’t wearing a shirt. His pants clung to his thighs like a second skin, every movement feral and powerful.

Mailah gulped.

This wasn’t like the other dreams. There was something rawer about him. Wilder. Hungrier.

The first crack in her lucidity formed right then.

"Grayson," she whispered.

He didn’t speak. His blue eyes blazed with silver through the mist as he stalked toward her. She stepped back once—maybe twice—but there was nowhere to go.

Without warning, he shoved her back against a tree, bark scraping against her skin as his body pinned hers in place.

The cold of the rain disappeared instantly under the searing heat of him.

"You came to me," he growled, voice deeper, rougher.

"I....," she gasped, trying to keep her thoughts clear, trying to remember why she had to fight this.

But her body had other plans.

Grayson’s mouth crushed hers before she could even protest—if she even meant to.

His kiss was brutal and consuming, teeth clashing and lips bruising as his hands roamed over her with no restraint. There was no preamble. No hesitation.

He was already feeding.

And gods, it felt so good she forgot her name.

He took and took, never slowing down, never letting her come up for air. Her moans were swallowed by the forest as he tore her dress open, exposing her to the storm and his hunger.

Her back scraped the tree, but the pain was drowned in the overwhelming pleasure as he entered her in a single, punishing thrust.

She cried out, caught off guard by the ferocity of it.

The rain grew colder, but Grayson’s skin remained hot, his body a stark contrast to the chill in the air.

His mouth found her neck, hot and unrelenting, his teeth grazing along her pulse. A shiver jolted down her spine, born not from cold. His hands were rough and demanding as they roamed her curves.

Her breasts swelled with need, the cold rain droplets turning to warm kisses as they fell from his mouth.

His teeth nipped at her sensitive peaks, drawing a gasp from her. He didn’t ease up, instead choosing to suckle and bite harder, sending waves of pleasure-pain crashing through her.

Her fingers clawed into his back, and she arched into him, offering everything.

The forest floor grew slick beneath them, the rain mixing with their sweat and desire.

She felt the tree’s bark dig into her skin, but the pain only served to heighten her pleasure.

He slammed into her, a brutal rhythm that shook her down to her bones. The world outside the dream didn’t exist anymore—it was just them. Just this moment. Just him.

Her legs wrapped around his waist, her heels digging into the firm muscles of his backside. She felt the thick stretch of him as he drove into her over and over again—unforgiving, all-consuming. She welcomed it. Needed it.

The storm grew in intensity around them, echoing the tempest within her as Grayson’s hips moved with a primal rhythm that matched the pounding of her heart.

He leaned close, his teeth grazing her earlobe, and the shock of it ripped another cry from her lips.

"Mine," he growled—a single word, dark and final, sinking into her like a brand.

Wind lashed through the trees, her soaked hair whipping around her face as he kissed her harder. Her dress was torn away, leaving her exposed to the elements and his ravenous gaze.

Cool rain kissed every inch of her exposed skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat between her thighs, the pressure building fast and unforgiving.

His hands gripped her hips, urging her to meet each thrust with matching force, matching need. She obeyed blindly, her body lost in the rhythm, chasing the edge.

Her gasps turned to whimpers as she felt the first tremors of an orgasm build within her. Her body responded to his touch as if it had been waiting for it, craving it for an eternity.

The world around them grew hazy, and she could feel the bond between them thicken, pulsing with the beat of their hearts. Even the forest seemed to pause, the air heavy with the sacred hush of something ancient being awakened.

Mailah cried out, half in shock, half in release.

He was ravenous. Each movement was rough and fast, primal in its rhythm. There was no space between them, no room for thought.

Just Grayson and the maddening friction, the slap of skin, the growl in his throat, the almost-frantic way he claimed her again and again until the storm peaked and broke.

When it was over, she collapsed against him, trembling, boneless.

Then, everything faded to black.

She awoke with a gasp—not in her bed, but on a fur blanket beside a flickering hearth in a log cabin.

A fireplace crackled softly across the room, casting flickering light and long shadows that danced on the wooden walls. The scent of smoke, pine hung thick in the air.

Mailah stirred beneath the fur blanket, her limbs slow to obey, her body still echoing with the raw ache of what had happened in the forest.

She blinked, trying to push back the haze. But her surroundings weren’t fading like normal dreams did.

Then she saw him.

Grayson sat in a worn leather chair across the room, one arm draped over the backrest, his legs spread wide in lazy confidence. His shirt was open, exposing his skin.

The firelight painted golden lines over the planes of his chest and throat. A dark, unreadable expression twisted his features—half-hunger, half-possession.

Predator.

She froze.

He said nothing. Just watched her. Silent. Still. Like he was waiting.

And then he moved.

It was sudden and fluid, almost too fast for her eyes to track.

He crossed the space between them in a heartbeat and seized her by the waist. The blanket fell away.

She gasped, fully naked in the firelight, but there was no room for modesty.

With a growl, Grayson spun her and pinned her to the nearest wall, the solid weight of his body pressing hard against her back.

Her palms splayed against the cool wooden boards, her breath catching as the heat of him enveloped her from behind.

"You taste like temptation," he murmured, lips brushing her ear, voice rough and low.

Then his mouth was on her, hands roaming her curves like he had all the time in the world.

His fingers tangled in her hair and yanked her head back with just enough force to make her moan.

Then his lips met hers in a punishing kiss, and she tasted blood, salt, and longing. He devoured her, murmuring dark promises against her skin.

"I’ve waited so long to take you like this," he rasped, grinding against her backside. "No interruptions. No holding back. Mine."

He thrust his hips forward, teasing, letting her feel how hard he was, how ready.

Her knees buckled, but his grip tightened around her waist, keeping her upright, keeping her his.

"Grayson..." she whispered, her voice shaky with confusion and desire. "This... this isn’t real..."

But even as she said it, her hands betrayed her, reaching back to cling to his thighs, her hips arching involuntarily.

Her mind told her to fight it. But her body was already surrendering.

"Then stop me," he whispered in her ear.

She didn’t.

He spun her again, facing him now, and lifted her easily, pressing her back against the wall. She wrapped her legs around his waist out of instinct, his mouth returning to hers—bruising, claiming.

His fingers dug into her thighs, holding her open for him, and when he entered her, it was deep, hard, possessive.

She cried out, nails clawing at his back.

Each thrust drove her higher into madness, into heat, into the growing certainty that she was losing herself in him completely.

After what felt like hours—maybe minutes—Grayson finally pulled her into the warmth of the fur rug by the fire. She lay dazed and trembling in his arms, her breathing ragged.

The fire popped.

And finally, he spoke again.

"I could keep you like this," he said quietly, his hand lazily trailing down her spine. "Forever. You’d never know the difference."

Her breath caught.

Was that a threat... or a promise?

She glanced at the flames, her heart pounding.

Is this how he feeds?Just endless pleasure, until I forget everything else? Until I stop wanting to wake up?

Grayson’s fingers brushed her neck again, and she shivered—not from cold.

"Tell me... " he whispered. "Is leaving still what you want?"