Becoming Lailah: Married to my Twin Sister's Billionaire Husband-Chapter 246: The Hedge 2
MAILAH FELT THE HEAT in Grayson’s gaze, a physical pressure that made her heart hammer against her ribs. He had given her a choice: walk away and keep her secrets, or stay and reveal the shadows in her heart.
The door to the manor was only thirty feet away. Behind it lay the safety of her room. But as she looked at Grayson—this version of him that was all sharp edges and ancient pride—she realized that walking away was no longer an option. She was already caught in his orbit.
"I’m staying," she whispered.
Grayson didn’t move, but the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease by a fraction of a millimeter. "Then speak, little human. What is it that makes your pulse race like a trapped thing when I come near?"
Mailah took a shaky breath. "It’s not just one thing, Grayson. It’s the way you look at me like I’m a puzzle you’re trying to solve instead of a person you used to love. I’m afraid that the man who lived in the human world—the man who knew me—is gone forever. And I’m afraid that you are just a ghost wearing his face."
She paused, her eyes searching. "But mostly? I’m afraid that Lucson is right. I’m afraid that you don’t actually want me. You just want something to focus on so you don’t have to deal with the fact that your soul is missing a piece."
The air around them seemed to grow colder. Grayson stepped into her space, his height looming over her. He didn’t look angry; he looked intensely, dangerously focused.
"You think you are a placeholder," he said, his voice a low vibration.
"Aren’t I?" Mailah challenged, her chin lifting. "To this version of you, I’m just ’the human.’ I’m a liability. A fragile thing you have to keep from breaking."
Grayson reached out. His hand didn’t go for her throat or her waist. Instead, he tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. His fingers were searingly hot against her skin, a stark contrast to the evening chill.
"You are fragile," he murmured, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. "Your skin tears. Your bones snap. Your heart stops if the wind blows too hard in the wrong direction. That is a fact."
Mailah tried to pull back, but he caught her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.
"But," he continued, his voice dropping to a rough crawl, "you are also the only thing in this world that doesn’t feel like a lie. My brothers look at me a certain way. Seryn looks at me and sees a weapon she lost. But you... you look at me and expect me to be better than I am."
He leaned in. "I don’t remember the coffee, Mailah. I don’t remember the small things. But when I touch you, my blood doesn’t feel like ice anymore. Is that obsession? Perhaps. But if it is, then I find I have no desire to be cured."
The honesty in his voice was more disarming than any physical threat.
Mailah felt her resistance crumbling. She reached up, her hands finding the lapels of his dark coat. He felt solid, like a mountain that had decided to ground her.
Grayson didn’t need to be told. He claimed her mouth with a hunger that made her knees buckle. It wasn’t a gentle, patient kiss. This was a storm. It was raw, primal, and entirely too much. He tasted of spice and cold air, and as his tongue grazed hers, Mailah let out a soft, broken sound.
He pulled her flush against him, his arms wrapping around her waist like iron bands. The heat radiating from his body was staggering. It felt as if he were trying to pull her inside his very skin, to bridge the gap between demon and human through sheer force of will.
"Is this resolving your fear?" he muttered against her lips, his breath hot.
"It’s... a start," she managed to gasp.
Grayson let out a low, dark chuckle. "I find that I quite like it when you argue. It makes the silence afterward much more rewarding."
She tilted her head back to give him better access to her neck.
He didn’t take her back to the house. Instead, he led her deeper into the garden, past the fountain that whispered secrets and into a hidden alcove where the grass was thick and soft, surrounded by high walls of black roses. The moon hung low and heavy, silvering the world.
Grayson shed his coat, spreading it over the grass with a fluid grace. He sat down and pulled Mailah between his legs, his back against an ancient, gnarled oak tree.
His hands slid up her arms to rest on her shoulders.
Mailah looked up at the stars, then back at the man who was her greatest danger and her only home. The suspense of their situation—the Ember, the unwelcome return of Seryn, the watchful eyes of his brothers—all of it felt miles away.
"Then prove it," she said, her voice steady.
Every fear she had seemed to melt under the weight of his touch. When his hands slid down to her waist, lifting her against the solid wall of his chest, she let out a soft, broken sound.
Grayson’s touch was not a question; it was a demand. His hands were broad and searingly hot, mapping the curves of her body as if he were memorizing a kingdom he had once lost. He moved her with a mix of royal grace and raw, desperate hunger, pulling her onto his shed coat. The silk was cool, but his body was a furnace.
Mailah arched into him, her fingers digging into his warm skin beneath his shirt. She had expected cold precision—his usual demeanor—but his breath shuddered against her collarbone.
His lips trailed lower, teeth scraping over her pulse point before his tongue soothed the sting. It was an unspoken confession: he was not as untouchable as he pretended.
The scent of crushed roses mingled with the salt of his skin. When his hand slid beneath her skirt, the drag of his fingers against her inner thigh made her gasp.
He stilled, watching her reaction like a predator savoring prey. "Tell me," he murmured, his voice thick, "do I feel like a ghost now?"
Mailah’s breath hitched as his fingers found the damp heat between her legs. His touch was deliberate, almost clinical—until she whimpered.
Then his restraint fractured. He curled two fingers inside her with a growl, his thumb pressing ruthless circles against her nub. The pleasure was sharp enough to border on pain, and her nails bit into his shoulders.
Above them, the roses trembled in the night breeze, petals drifting onto Grayson’s bare forearms. Mailah watched them catch against his skin. She dragged her tongue along it.
His hips jerked beneath her, pressing the hard line of his erection against her thigh. "Do you know what you’re doing?" he gritted out, his voice fraying at the edges. His fingers inside her twisted deeper, and she whimpered, her back arching as he dragged his teeth over her collarbone.
The roses overhead trembled again, petals scattering like blood-spatter against his shoulders. Mailah caught one between her teeth, crushing it against his skin as her body clenched around his fingers. The taste—bitter and metallic—flooded her mouth, and Grayson made a sound like a wounded animal, his free hand tangling in her hair to yank her head back.
His thumb circled faster, relentless, and she felt the coil in her belly tighten to breaking. "Open your eyes," he demanded, and when her eyes fluttered open, his gaze was molten. "I want to see it happen." The command in his voice was a live wire down her spine, and she came with a cry, her thighs clamping around his wrist as her vision whited out.
He didn’t let her recover. With a rough groan, Grayson flipped her onto her back, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand while the other tore at the buttons of his trousers.
The scrape of fabric against her thighs was distant compared to the heat of him pressing against her—hard, insistent. "Still think I don’t want you?" he rasped, dragging the head of his cock through her slickness, teasing. 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ𝓋𝑒𝑙.𝑐𝘰𝑚
Mailah arched, her breath coming in ragged bursts. The scent of crushed petals and sweat filled the air, mingling with the musk of his arousal. When he finally pushed inside, it wasn’t gentle—it was claiming. Her gasp dissolved into a moan as he filled her, the stretch bordering on painful, yet deliciously so.
His fingers tightened around her wrists, pinning her beneath him as he began to move with slow, deliberate thrusts. Each one dragged against her oversensitive nerves, sending sparks up her spine. She could feel every ridge of him, every shift of muscle beneath his skin as he braced himself above her, his breath hot against her throat.
The roses overhead trembled, petals drifting onto her collarbone, sticking to the sweat-slicked skin. Grayson bent his head, licking one away with a slow drag of his tongue, his teeth grazing her pulse point in warning. His hips snapped forward, deeper this time, and Mailah’s back arched off the coat beneath them, a ragged moan torn from her lips.
He didn’t just touch her skin; he seemed to touch her soul, his fingers tracing the line of her spine with a precision that made her world go dark at the edges. Every press of his lips, every graze of his teeth against her pulse point, was a vow. He looked down at her with eyes that were no longer cold—they were silver fire, seeing only her in a world full of shadows.
"Is this better?" he muttered, his voice rough and low, vibrating through her very bones.
"Yes," she gasped, her fingers digging into his shoulders. "But Grayson—"
"No more words," he growled.
