Salviana whispered, almost too quiet to be heard, "You… do you like touching me?"
A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he nodded. "I like touching you, wife. More than I thought I would."
With Salviana, Alaric felt something new stirring—a desire to bridge the very distance he'd always kept, to touch and feel. For as long as he could remember, his gloves had served as a barrier, a protection not only from others but from the sharp, raw sensations that even a slight brush against his skin could stir.
Yet with her, that wall felt increasingly irrelevant, and the idea of hiding behind his gloves felt... wrong. He'd never exposed his hands, his touch, to anyone as he did with Salviana. He found himself instinctively pulling them off in her presence, his fingers itching to explore the softness of her skin, to feel her warmth without restraint, wondering if she could feel the same intensity in each caress that he did.
He hoped she did, because my word, he could go mad if he was alone in this.
"Do you fancy me?" Salviana asked suddenly, breaking the quiet intimacy between them.
"What?" Alaric's mind scrambled, the urge to sink his fangs into her soft skin momentarily forgotten. Why would she ask such a thing?
She bit her lip before continuing, "The other day, you said you've never fancied anyone enough to pursue them. So, what about me?"
"I married you," he pointed out, hoping that clarified things. But judging by her raised brow, it didn't.
Salviana rolled her eyes, a playful edge in her voice. "Yes, but you barely knew me before that night. What did you even see in me?"
Alaric's gaze softened. "You're right. I didn't know you. But I wanted you from the moment I laid eyes on you."
"It was dark when we met," she countered, incredulous. "What could you have possibly seen?"
With a sigh, he rolled his eyes. "I'm a vampire. The eyes." His tone was as deadpan as it was smug, and her laughter was rich with understanding.
"Ah, right. Night vision." She nodded, still chuckling.
A teasing smile crept onto his lips. "Besides, it's not as though anyone could resist a divine lady."
She blinked, surprised. "You… you know?"
He stopped, turning from his task of changing a candle. "Do you think me stupid?" His eyes glinted with a dark amusement. "I wouldn't marry you on a whim, Salviana."
'Of course you're stupid, you told me the name of the miss you kissed and now I have to dislike her,' she thought wryly, but instead let out a soft sigh. "I thought no one in the castle knew. No one ever spoke of it, or seemed to care."
He reached for his shirt, pulling it over his flawless skin with a casual grace that made her heart stutter. "Did you think I would marry a woman without knowing everything there is to know about her?"
"Oh, yes, 'because why not,'" she mimicked his words from their first encounter, raising an eyebrow.
Alaric laughed—a warm, light sound that sent a thrill down her spine. "You're the divine lady of myth, Salviana. And now you're mine."
She propped herself up, curiosity burning in her eyes. "What do you want with my divinity?"
"To keep it," he replied without hesitation.
She tilted her head, curiosity stirring. "What else did you know about me before marriage?"
He shrugged nonchalantly. "That you were a wealthy young lady who arrived at the castle empty-handed."
Her face fell. "You were supposed to pick me up after the ceremony. But you never came."
Alaric turned to her, intending to offer her some explanation. "You arrived a week earlier than expected. Guess who was eager to see me?"
She deflated with a sigh. "My father."
He lowered himself to the edge of the bed, reaching to meet her gaze. "I would've come for you myself—"
But the sentence was interrupted by a familiar intrusion in his mind. 'Alaric,' Lucius's voice rang through his thoughts.
'What are you doing here?' Alaric growled internally.
'Just thought I'd take my leave if you'd care to accompany me,' Lucius replied with a mocking tone.
'I'm with my wife,' Alaric bit back, irritated.
'I can see that,' Lucius's laughter echoed in his mind.
"Alaric?" Salviana's voice called him back to the room.
"Yes, Fiery?" he replied with a soft smile.
Lucius's taunt rang out again, 'Fairy? What does that make you, the devil?' he had misunderstood the word Alaric spoke.
'Idiot,' Alaric shot back, forcing himself to stay focused on Salviana even as Lucius's presence needled him.
"You seem distracted," she observed, studying his expression. She shifted, bending forward to catch his gaze, and he quickly vacated the bed.
"I apologize. I… might not be able to join you for breakfast today," he muttered, sounding more abrupt than he intended.
"Oh." Her face fell, the disappointment evident.
He softened, reaching out to her. "I'll be back earlier if I can." Leaning in, he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, and she melted into the warmth of his touch. He smiled, then kissed her nose, making her laugh, a sound that tugged at something deep within him.
As he pulled back, unable to resist, he brushed his lips lightly against the side of her mouth. The kiss lingered, fleeting yet heavy with unspoken promises.
"Will you wait for me to have dinner together?" he murmured.
She bit her lip, hesitating. "But you can't even taste it. It's not really important."
"Just wait," he insisted, his eyes earnest. "I like watching you eat."
"That's… a little creepy," she teased with a giggle.
He exaggerated his outrage, pressing a hand to his chest. "Absolutely not."
Her laughter followed him as he made his way out of the room, her final whispered words sending warmth rushing through him. "I'll wait for you."
He turned back, his gaze lingering on her. "I'll show you just how much I fancy you soon."
She blushed furiously, ducking under the covers. Grinning, Alaric turned to leave, feeling Lucius's exasperated presence lingering in his thoughts, as if awaiting him outside.
With one last look back, he left to handle whatever nonsense Lucius had deemed urgent enough to interrupt.