Married To Darkness

Chapter 517: Tender Loving

"I love you," he whispered.

Salviana’s heart did a slow, dizzying roll in her chest, but she caught herself, a playful light dancing in her emerald eyes as she tucked a lock of his dark hair behind his ear.

"Yes, yes, I know," she teased, her voice light and melodic. She leaned back, offering him a radiant, cheeky smile that cut through the morning’s heavy solemnity. "Now, up you get, Fire Prince. Let us go down for a proper human breakfast. We are joining the family this morning."

The tender expression on Alaric’s face vanished instantly. He blinked rapidly, his dark brows knitting together into a deep, characteristic scowl. "What? Why in the Seven Hells would we do that?"

"Because we were invited," she said, smoothing out the rumpled silk of her gown. "Prince Embrez visited yesterday specifically to extend the offer. That was the real reason for his... theatrical arrival."

Alaric scoffed, a sound of pure, aristocratic disdain. He rolled onto his back, staring up at the canopy as if he could manifest a way out of the social obligation. "It doesn’t matter. Embrez is a creature of whim. I can appease him without having to endure a dining table."

Salviana arched an eyebrow, bracing herself on one elbow. "Oh? And with what do you plan to appease the Prince of the Road?"

"A spar," Alaric let out, a predatory gleam flickering in his eyes. He flexed his hands, the scars on his knuckles white against his pale skin. "A few rounds in the training courtyard usually shuts him up for a week. It’s far more efficient than small talk over tea."

"No," Salviana insisted, giving him a pointed, sharp look that brook no argument. She reached out, patting his cheek with mock maternal sternness. "We are joining them. Properly. No blood, no blades, just breakfast. You need to show the court—and your family—that the ’Monster’ has a seat at the table."

Alaric groaned, the sound vibrating deep in his chest. He looked at her, his gaze softening as it always did when she exerted her quiet authority over him. A small, defeated sigh escaped him. "Anything for you, my love," he muttered, though the corner of his mouth quirked up in a reluctant smile.

She laughed, the sound bright and crystalline in the quiet room. She leaned down, pressing a quick, lingering peck to his lips, and attempted to swing her legs out of the bed.

"No..." Alaric’s voice was a low, possessive rumble.

Before she could touch the floor, his hand shot out with the speed of a striking viper. He caught her by the waist, his strength effortless and absolute as he hauled her back into the center of the mattress.

"Alaric!" she squealed, a half-laughing, half-surprised sound as she found herself pinned beneath him once more.

He moved with the grace of a hunting cat, capturing both of her wrists in a single, large hand and pinning them gently but firmly above her head. He hovered over her, his dark eyes blown wide with a sudden, renewed hunger that made her pulse thunder. He didn’t give her a chance to protest again; he scooped her lips into his, his mouth hot and demanding. He kissed her with a slow, rhythmic intensity, suckling her bottom lip until Salviana’s defiance melted into a dazed smile and a long, broken moan that echoed against the stone walls.

Alaric’s grip was firm but silken, his large hand easily circling both of her wrists. He pinned them against the headboard, his body hovering over hers with a predatory grace that was now tempered by a newfound, aching tenderness.

"The family can wait," he growled playfully against her lips, his voice a low vibration that traveled straight to her core. "Embrez has spent his whole life waiting for things; he can wait another hour for a breakfast he probably won’t even eat."

He captured her mouth again, his kiss no longer the desperate, starving thing of the previous night. It was slow, indulgent, and possessive. He suckled her bottom lip, his tongue tracing the seam of her mouth until she opened for him with a soft, helpless moan. The iron-scented ghost of her blood was gone, replaced entirely by the sweet, floral heat of her breath.

Salviana squirmed beneath him, her emerald eyes half-lidded and hazy with affection. "Alaric... the servants... they’ll come looking..."

"Let them look," he murmured, breaking the kiss to trail a path of fire down her jawline to the sensitive dip of her throat. "Let them see that the Demon Prince has finally found something worth guarding more than a throne."

He shifted his weight, his chest pressing against her soft curves, the contrast between his cool skin and her radiating "divine" warmth sparking like flint and steel. Salviana’s laughter died down into a shaky sigh as his other hand wandered, tracing the line of her hip through the silk of her nightgown.

"You’re a menace," she whispered, her fingers twitching in his light grip, wanting to reach out and touch the scars on his back that he no longer had to hide from her.

"I’m a husband," he corrected, nipping gently at her collarbone. "And I believe my wife promised to guide me. Consider this... a training exercise in control."

He released her wrists then, but only so he could cup her face, his thumbs brushing over the bridge of her nose. He looked at her with such raw, unshielded devotion that it made her heart skip. The shadow of Anne-Marie hadn’t vanished—it was etched into his history—but here, in the amber morning light, Salviana was the only sun he saw.

Finally, after one last lingering, soul-deep kiss, he pulled back with a sigh of mock defeat. "Okay. We shall go. We shall endure the tea and the riddles and the King’s icy glares."

He sat up, offering her a hand to help her rise, his eyes sparkling with a rare, boyish mischief. "Oh, But if Embrez mentions foxes or sheep even once, Salviana... I am taking that spar. And I won’t be gentle." he couldn’t that prince will call his wife a sheep.

Salviana laughed, taking his hand and pulling herself up. "Deal. Now, get dressed, Fire Prince. We have a family to shock with our punctuality."

"To bathe first" Salviana whispered suddenly she wished she had choosen to cuddle instead of going fo rthis breakfast.