"I will not leave you here," Grayson said softly, his voice a low rumble that cut through the roaring wind. "But when we find them, you must listen to every word I say. You will not step in front of me. You will not try to be a hero. Is that clear?"
"Crystal clear," Mailah answered, looking up into his dark, fierce eyes. "Just get us to her."
Grayson gave a single, sharp nod. He kept her hand locked in his as they turned back down the trail, moving twice as fast as before. The mud was slick and treacherous, but Grayson's footing was absolute. He guided her down the mountain with that same terrifying, fluid grace, carrying them through the worst of the storm until the warm yellow lights of the cabin broke through the trees.
Once inside, Grayson did not waste a single second. The stoic, domestic man who complained about undercooked rice was gone. In his place was an ancient lord preparing for a hunt.
