The soft rustle of Alaric moving with vamp speed broke through her reverie, pulling her back into the present. She blinked and turned her head slightly, catching a glimpse of Alaric rubbing something between his palm. The sound of his slow, deliberate movements grounded her, drawing her back to the warmth of the bath, the intimacy of their shared space.
She felt her heartbeat quicken, but this time, it wasn't from the old wounds of memory. It was from the new, unfamiliar feelings stirring in her chest—feelings that tied her to the man undressing before her, a man who had seen more of her in a few days than anyone else had in a lifetime.
Her breath hitched, her pulse drumming in her ears. He was different. Here, with him, her health and well-being were noticed. Her heart swelled with a quiet sweetness. 'He respects me. He cares for me. I think'
But one question lingered. 'Why did he marry me?'
Back home, I was the divine lady—honored, praised… exploited, yes—but acknowledged. Her chest tightened slightly at the contrast. Here, among these royals, no one sees me for who I am.
They don't care about my powers or my status, but… he does. Her gaze softened, settling on Alaric's face. He treats me like I matter, not just for my abilities, but for me.
He's respectful, even adoring at times. A sweetness settled in her heart, confusing and warm.
But why? Why did he marry me? The thought remains on constant replay in her head.
He stepped into the pool then, the water rippling gently as his body submerged, and Salviana's pulse quickened. The sight of him, so near, so unguarded, sent her heart racing even faster.
She could hardly form a coherent thought as her husband, this mysterious, often cold man, now seemed so warm, so close. The water lapped gently at her skin, but it was his nearness of him that had her most aware.
"Alaric…" Her voice trailed off as she searched for the right words, though they failed her. The vulnerability of the moment was overwhelming, and yet, there was something about it that felt right, something about the way he looked at her, the way his presence seemed to fill every empty space.
He smiled at the sound of his name, a soft, almost fond expression on his usually stoic face. "Yes, wife?" he murmured, the words sending a ripple of warmth through her.
She swallowed hard, her gaze flickering over his form again—his strong, muscular body, now partially submerged in the water, his hair damp from the steam.
She wanted to look away, to preserve some sense of modesty, but her body had other ideas. Her eyes lingered on him, drawn to the way his chest rose and fell, the way the water clung to his skin.
He was perfection. His body was carved from years of discipline and strength, each line of muscle speaking to a power that both intrigued and frightened her.
But it wasn't just his body that called to her—it was the way he looked at her, as if she were the only thing that mattered in this moment. It was intoxicating, and she wasn't sure if she could resist.
"Come here," he said, his voice low and commanding, though there was a softness in his tone that made the words feel like a gentle pull rather than a demand.
Her heart stopped, and for a moment, the world narrowed down to just the two of them. Every instinct in her body told her to go to him, to close the distance and let herself fall into whatever this was between them, but fear held her back.
Fear of the unknown, fear of what it would mean to let herself be vulnerable with him.
As Alaric watched her hesitate, flustered and unsure, something stirred deep within him—something he hadn't expected.
Adorable. The word whispered through his mind, and it surprised him how natural it felt. She's so soft, so unguarded. His chest tightened with an emotion he was unaccustomed to.
Alaric had never been cared for—not truly—but the urge to care for her, to protect her softness, was overwhelming. It came so naturally, as though an instinct he hadn't known he possessed had awakened. I want to know her, he realized, to hold her, to give her everything she needs.
Whatever is best for her… I want that for her. Her naivety, her vulnerability—everything about her seemed to call to something primal within him. He wanted to care for her in ways no one had cared for him.
"I think this is soothing eno—" she started, her voice small, but before she could finish, Alaric reached out, his hand wrapping around her wrist with surprising gentleness.
In one swift motion, he pulled her toward him, and suddenly, she was face to face with him, her body pressed against his in the warm water. Her breath hitched as she realized how close they were, her skin tingling with the sensation of his warmth against her own.
Salviana's heart raced, her mind spinning with the closeness of him. She felt exposed, vulnerable in a way she hadn't expected, and instinctively, she raised her arms to cover herself, as if trying to shield her heart from whatever was about to happen.
But Alaric's gaze was steady, unwavering, as his fingers brushed over her arm, gently coaxing it away from her chest. "Don't hide from me," he whispered, his voice soft but firm. "You have nothing to fear."
His words sent a shiver down her spine, and slowly, hesitantly, she allowed herself to relax, to let her guard down just a little.
Her hands fell away, and she felt his gaze travel over her, not with the cold detachment she had feared, but with something warmer, something that made her feel seen, truly seen, for the first time.
"You're mine, Salviana," he murmured, his voice low and possessive, but there was a tenderness in it that made her heart ache. "Don't forget that."
Her breath hitched as his hand slid down her back, pulling her even closer. She could feel the steady beat of his heart against her chest, the warmth of his skin, and suddenly, the fear melted away, replaced by a deep, undeniable need to be close to him, to let him in.