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Morning.
Bathroom, Salviana's Chambers.
Wyfkeep Castle, Wyfellon. Wyfn-Garde.
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"Does your waist hurt?" Alaric asked, his voice low and gentle as his large hand trailed down Salviana's waist. His fingers, firm yet soothing, palmed her small frame as he began to massage it in slow circles.
His touch was careful, deliberate, meant to ease the tension in her muscles, to show her that he was paying attention to every inch of her body.
Salviana shuddered unexpectedly, her body reacting before her mind could catch up.
She felt the ripple of his touch spread warmth through her, but then something else took over—a sharp, ticklish sensation that made her squirm involuntarily.
She wiggled away from him before she could stop herself, laughter bubbling up out of nowhere.
Alaric froze, his hands suspended in midair, utterly confused. His brows furrowed as he reached for her again, concerned she might be uncomfortable, but Salviana slipped further away, her back hunched over as she continued to giggle uncontrollably.
"What's happening?" Alaric thought, his mind racing with confusion. He had been careful—so what had gone wrong?
He took a step toward her, reaching out again, but this time, Salviana raised her hand defensively, her cheeks flushed red from laughing so hard. "No!" she managed to wail through her breathless smile, startling him into silence.
"Salviana," he whispered, his voice soft with concern, his brows knitting together. Why was she laughing? Was she uncomfortable with his touch? Did she not want him to take care of her?
But her eyes twinkled with mirth, and the smile on her face told him she was far from upset. She was enjoying herself.
"Please, no… not the ribs," she gasped, finally managing to speak between her fits of giggles, her palm still out in defense.
"The ribs?" Alaric repeated, his confusion deepening.
She nodded, her face glowing from the flush of laughter. "It tickles when you grip my ribs… or my waist," she explained, trailing off as her face turned a deeper shade of red. She looked so shy, so embarrassed, but her laughter had been genuine.
Alaric blinked, then let out a soft chuckle of his own, the tension easing from his shoulders. He had been trying to soothe her, not realizing that his efforts had triggered a ticklish spot.
Still, it felt good to hear her laugh like that, to see her relaxed enough to find amusement in his care.
"Come here," he said, his voice gentle, his eyes warm as he beckoned her back to him. She hesitated for a moment, her heart still fluttering from the playful moment, but the look in his eyes, the soft command in his voice, drew her back in.
Slowly, she nodded, floating toward him, her body feeling lighter, more at ease.
She turned, her back to him, and before she could register anything, Alaric reached out, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her close. Her back hit his hard chest, and she gasped at the sudden closeness, her pulse quickening once again.
His large palm trailed down her hips, his fingers tracing her curves with slow, deliberate movements. He seemed to be memorizing her, as if familiarizing himself with every line of her body.
His hands moved lower, his fingers brushing the insides of her thighs. Salviana stiffened at the intimate touch, but her body didn't resist. Instead, she found herself leaning into him, her heart beating wildly in her chest.
She wasn't used to this—wasn't used to anyone caring for her this way, to anyone seeing her needs, her aches, her desires. But here, in Alaric's arms, she felt safe, cared for. His touch was firm, yet filled with tenderness, and it soothed her in ways she hadn't known she needed.
Alaric's fingers pressed into her thighs with just the right amount of pressure, massaging the muscles that had grown sore from her first ride in years. She felt the tension melt away with every press, every stroke of his hands.
The ache she had been feeling earlier began to fade, replaced by a gentle warmth that spread through her limbs. His touch was precise, almost instinctive, as if he knew exactly what her body needed.
He hadn't known he would be good at this—hadn't known how naturally the desire to care for her would come. But here he was, his hands moving over her skin with purpose, his heart swelling with a strange new feeling.
He hadn't been cared for himself, not really. His life had been full of distance, coldness, and isolation. But with Salviana in his arms, something shifted within him.
The urge to protect her, to nurture her, was overwhelming, as if it had always been there, buried deep beneath the surface.
He dropped his chin onto her shoulder, his breath warm against her neck. He heard the soft sound of her sigh, felt her body relax completely into him as he continued his slow, deliberate massage.
He wanted to soothe every part of her, to ensure she felt nothing but comfort and safety in his arms.
Salviana's head fell back against his chest, her eyelids fluttering closed as she lost herself in the sensation of his hands on her body.
She had never known such tenderness before, never imagined that someone as cold and distant as Alaric could be so gentle, so thoughtful. But here he was, touching her with a reverence that made her heart ache.
And then, a shift—a subtle change in the air, a new scent that made Alaric pause for a moment. It was sweet, intoxicating, and it filled his senses with a warmth that made his pulse quicken.
Arousal.
He could smell it in the air, feel it in the way her body subtly tensed, her breath hitching as his hands moved lower.
Her arousal.
Alaric shifted behind her, the heat building within him as he trailed his fingers higher, lifting the hem of her inner dress.
His cold fingers grazed her skin, and he felt her shiver beneath his touch, her breath catching in her throat as she braced herself for more.