"I love what your scent does to me," Alaric murmured, his voice thick and heavy with something unidentifiable—exhaustion? Sleep? Or was it desire?
How did he know she wasn't asleep? Salviana wondered, peeking at him from under her lashes. And why was he talking to her now? She'd thought he hated her; he hadn't even joined her for dinner.
Turning slowly, she found his dark eyes watching her, somehow darker than usual. Ignoring the unsettling intensity in his gaze, she asked softly, "What do I smell like?"
Alaric's mouth curved faintly as he climbed into the bed beside her. "Your scent doesn't have a single note to it—it's not something I can name. It's more… a feeling," he whispered.
She blinked, curious and intrigued. "A feeling? Enlighten me."
He leaned closer, his voice barely above a murmur. "When I breathe you in, it's as if peace settles over me. That's what you smell like… to me." There was something vulnerable in his tone, as if admitting this had cost him something.
She fell silent, processing his words, a slow smile forming on her lips. Peace. If she smelled like peace to him, didn't that mean he'd always find his way back to her? Did her divinity soothe his soul, grounding him in ways nothing else could? The thought made her heart skip, warmth blossoming in her chest as she looked away, lost in her musings.
Alaric's gaze narrowed as he watched her with keen interest. In the faint candlelight, she glowed softly, her expression distant and thoughtful. It pleased him to see her smile, and yet… he didn't fully understand why she was smiling.
He'd thought she'd ignore him.
"What about me?" he asked finally, pulling her from her reverie.
She glanced back at him, her thoughts swirling. For a vampire like him to describe a scent in terms of feeling, not as something tangible like flowers or spices… it was unexpectedly tender. But what did *his* scent make her feel?
Instead of answering, she began to shift back across the bed, moving carefully toward the edge. Alaric watched her, slightly puzzled by her sudden retreat.
"What do I smell like to you?" he asked, voice low and curious.
She flashed him a teasing smile. "It evokes a feeling in me as well, dear husband."
"What feeling?" he pressed, intrigued.
Her grin widened, and without warning, she slipped from the bed, gathering her dress as she went. "Your scent makes me feel… annoyed," she squealed with laughter, then bolted from the room, her laugh echoing through the chamber.
Alaric sat there, stunned, frozen by her unexpected reaction. Did she just insult him? Was she… running from him? A rare smile tugged at his lips, and then he chuckled darkly, his amusement giving way to predatory delight. So, she wanted to play games, did she?
Just as he rose from the bed, her voice floated down the hallway, soft and taunting. "It makes me want to bite you and leave a mark, so you'll always remember your annoying smell tempted me," she whispered, clearly trying to mask her location.
He smirked, loving the way she adjusted to his world so seamlessly. She knew he'd hear every whisper, yet she still spoke quietly, as if her lowered voice might hide her. Little did she know her racing heartbeat betrayed her every move.
"Is that so?" he called out, his voice carrying a chilling edge that made the shadows seem darker.
"Yes," she whispered back, barely audible. "Your scent is stupidly attractive… for a vampire."
Silence fell between them, and the chambers grew still and thick with tension. Salviana's heartbeat thrummed louder in her ears as she glanced over her shoulder, suddenly uncertain. Where was he? Should she keep talking, or had she teased him too far?
Before she could decide, a cool breath brushed over her neck, startling her as Alaric's lips grazed her skin, his nose buried in her hair. He inhaled deeply, and the intimacy of it sent a shiver down her spine.
"Alaric," she gasped, her voice faltering as her legs weakened.
But he was relentless, tracing his nose along the curve of her neck, savoring every inch of her. "So… my scent annoys you, does it?" His voice was a dark purr against her ear.
With a startled wail, she tore herself from his grasp, sprinting down the hall. But she barely made it to the first turn before he appeared in front of her, his vampiric speed allowing him to block her path effortlessly. They stood in the dimly lit hallway, Salviana breathing hard, Alaric looking at her with a predatory gleam in his eye.
"Do you really think you can outrun me, my little fiery-wife?" he murmured, taking a slow, deliberate step toward her.
She backed up, her giggle bubbling over despite herself. "Perhaps not, but I might just tire you out, dear husband." she promised.
He smirked, advancing on her as she edged away, her heart racing in her chest. "I'm not so easily worn down, Salviana. But you, on the other hand…" His eyes glinted, and before she knew it, she was against the wall, his hand caging her in. "Perhaps it's time I remind you of the true power of scent… and its effect on mortals."
She met his gaze, defiant and exhilarated. "Is that a threat or a promise?"
He leaned closer, his lips a mere whisper from hers. "Both," he breathed, before tucking errant hairs behind her ears, his tenderness, sealing their game in a way that only they understood.
She bit down on her lip as her insides clenched, he wasn't wearing gloves and so she turned and kissed the inside of his hand, they both froze but she does it again with a smile.
Alaric had fed well on blood before coming in, yet now a different hunger stirred within him—a desire to taste the pulse racing in Salviana's veins, to feel her blood heat his own, filling him with her essence.
Backing her against the wall, he pressed one cold palm around her neck, just enough for her to feel the chill of his touch. Salviana's breaths quickened, spilling from her parted lips, as if she couldn't trust her own lungs to function properly under the weight of his intense aura.