Salviana stood still, her gaze locked on her reflection in the mirror. Her breath hitched as she realized that while she could sense Alaric's presence behind her, but his reflection was nowhere to be seen.
The feeling was surreal—knowing he was right there, so close that she could feel his cool breath fanning her neck, yet seeing only herself in the mirror. It was like living a fantasy that was true and this made her skin prickle with anticipation.
His long, cold fingers brushed against the back of her neck as he lifted her hair off her shoulders, slow and deliberate. The touch sent a shiver through her, and she sucked in a sharp breath, her pulse quickening.
His hands were icy, but the sensation was almost electric, awakening something inside her she hadn't known was there.
She felt his fingers at the zipper of her gown, the sound of it being pulled down filling the room with an intimacy that made her heart race.
"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper, laced with nerves and a hint of something else—curiosity, desire.
"Trust me," he murmured, his voice like velvet, calm and sure, as if he had all the time in the world.
Her gown slipped from her shoulders and fell to the floor with a soft thud, pooling around her feet in a silken heap. She wanted to move, to step back, but she couldn't. It wasn't fear that kept her still—it was the overwhelming sensation of being completely seen, and yet… unseen.
His hands lingered on her skin, and though she couldn't see him, she felt every inch of his presence, like a force that wrapped around her, anchoring her to the moment.
His breath was on her neck again, soft and cool, and her body responded without permission. She felt the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stand up, her skin tingling with the warmth of the bathroom heat and the coldness of his proximity. She didn't know what to expect, but she couldn't deny the strange allure of it all.
Alaric's voice was low, a whisper of hunger and restraint when he asked, "What are you thinking?" He couldn't help but ask, her heart lived in his ear at this moment
"You really don't have a reflection in the mirror," she whispered, almost to herself.
"No, I don't," he replied, his words a quiet confession.
"But you can feel me," he continued, his lips just brushing her ear, sending a delicious shiver down her spine.
Soon, His hand, cool but steady, found her waist, and she leaned into him, surrendering to the pull of his touch.
"I can feel you," she repeated, her voice breathless, almost a plea, as though needing to confirm the connection between them.
Her heart pounded wildly in her chest as he pressed a soft kiss to the curve of her neck, his lips cold but the sensation burning into her skin. Her body reacted instinctively, her left hand reaching for his.
She gripped him, needing something to anchor her to this world of strange sensations. She felt him gather her hair, pulling it into a bun, and wondered when he had gotten the band to tie it. His attentiveness left her flustered, unsure of what was coming next.
Before she could say another word, a soft, rushing sound filled the air. Her inner dress, the last flimsy barrier between her and him, fluttered and fell around her before she even realized it was gone.
She turned quickly, surprised, and found Alaric standing in front of her, a mischievous wink lighting up his otherwise serious face.
With a fluid motion, he picked her up again, his arms steady and firm as they cradled her against him. She squealed, the sound half a laugh, but her voice softened as she protested shyly, "I can walk…"
"And I can carry you," he replied, his voice rougher than before, laced with something deeper, darker, that sent a thrill through her.
He carried her over to the tub—large, ornate, carved from marble, and filled with steaming water. The scent of peppermint oil and herbs filled the room, mingling with the warmth of the steam that clung to her skin.
Gently, he lowered her into the water, her body slipping into its warmth, her skin reacting to the contrast between the cold air and the heat of the bath. The sensation was overwhelming, soothing and stirring something inside her all at once.
Her muscles, aching from the days of riding, immediately began to relax, the tension unwinding from her body as the warmth seeped into her skin.
She looked up at him, her eyes wide with gratitude and surprise. "What's in the water?" she asked, her voice soft, curious.
"Bath salts, some leaves you wouldn't know… and peppermint," he explained, his tone still gentle. "It will help soothe the ache."
She smiled, the gesture shy and sweet, touched by his consideration. "Thank you," she murmured, surprised that he had thought of something so simple yet so thoughtful.
But then, she watched as he began to remove his own clothing. Her breath hitched as his hands reached for the buttons of his shirt, slowly working them free, one by one.
She couldn't help but stare, her heart pounding faster with every piece of fabric he shed. His body was pale, starkly white in comparison to her own, but it wasn't sickly. It was strong, every muscle defined, as though carved from marble.
Her eyes traced the lines of him, the contours of his chest and shoulders, and she found herself admiring him—this man, this vampire who was now her husband.
Her husband was handsome, she mused. Suddenly, she wished to tell someone, she hungered to brag about how the demon prince was actually a handsome and caring husband, now she knew what prompted her former acquaintances to talk about their husbands or lover.
They couldn't help it and she thought perhaps neither could she.
The heat in her chest grew as her mind raced.
What was he doing? What should she do next?
What was about to happen? Her curiosity battled with her nerves, and she found herself wanting something she couldn't yet name.