The first few passages described vampires as desperate creatures, cursed to roam the night in poverty, hiding from the world. Alaric paused, his expression incredulous.
"Poor and hiding?" he scoffed. "If anything, we live far better than most humans."
Salviana giggled, leaning closer to glance at the page. "Keep reading. Maybe it gets better."
He continued, his tone laced with sarcasm as he read how vampires supposedly went mad with hunger, unable to control themselves. "So, according to this, I'd be a raving lunatic if I skipped a meal," he remarked dryly.
"Maybe they're onto something," Salviana teased, poking his side.
"Careful, wife," Alaric warned with a smirk, "or I might demonstrate just how sane I am when hungry."
They laughed, the sound light and genuine, as Alaric read on. Another passage claimed that vampires feared iron and would vomit if they ate human food.
Alaric rolled his eyes. "Iron? Really? If that were true, half my weapons would've killed me by now."
"And you've eaten human food before," Salviana added, a grin tugging at her lips.
"Exactly. It doesn't taste great, but vomit? That's a bit dramatic," he replied, shaking his head.
The two of them spent the evening flipping through the pages, laughing at the absurd descriptions and dramatic warnings.
At one point, Salviana took the book from him, reading aloud with exaggerated theatrics, earning chuckles and playful jabs from Alaric.
"This writer clearly never met a real vampire," he concluded, closing the book after they'd had their fill of amusement.
Salviana leaned against him, her head resting on his shoulder. "Maybe we should write our own book," she suggested. "The Truth About Vampires by Alaric and Salviana."
"Sounds like a bestseller," Alaric said with a chuckle, brushing a kiss to her temple.
As the night deepened, their laughter faded into comfortable silence. The candlelight flickered low, and Salviana yawned, her eyelids growing heavy. Alaric set the book aside and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close.
"Goodnight, fiery wife," he murmured.
"Goodnight, my husband," she whispered, her voice drowsy.
With the sound of rain softly pattering against the windows, Salviana drifted into peaceful sleep.
Their laughter and connection lingered in the quiet darkness of the room as Alaric gazed at the ceiling, lost in thought. The wind stirred the curtains, drawing his attention to the open window. With a flick of his left hand, he softly closed it, the faint click of the latch breaking the stillness.
For hours, Alaric lay there, staring into space—thinking and overthinking, yet not truly focused on anything. Eventually, his gaze shifted to Salviana. She was sound asleep, her soft breaths steady and calming. Though he loathed to leave her side, he had to.
The mansion he and Manni had discussed awaited, and the matter couldn't be delayed. Moving slowly, he gently began to draw his arm from around her. Salviana frowned in her sleep, clutching at him unconsciously. With a reluctant sigh, Alaric used a touch of magic to soothe her, and she relaxed, shifting voluntarily.
He slipped out of bed, dressed quickly in his night cloak, and cast one last glance at her before heading out. Salviana's peaceful form gave him a pang of guilt, but he consoled himself with the hope that she would remain asleep until he returned.
Just as he reached the outer courtyard, the sound of hooves caught his ear. He turned to see Manni approaching with two horses, the coachman's sharp eyes catching his in the dim light.
"Your Grace," Manni greeted with a knowing smile.
Alaric smirked. "You're up late."
"I couldn't sleep," Manni admitted, handing Soar, Alaric's trusted steed, to him. "The night feels strange—off, even. The sky's restless, and I doubt the rain will bless us tonight."
Alaric frowned as he stroked Soar's mane. "The sky? Do you sense something?"
Manni, ever cryptic, chuckled. "Evil people doing evil, perhaps?"
Alaric raised a brow, but said nothing. He mounted Soar with practiced ease, turning to Manni. "Let's uncover whatever needs uncovering."
"Yes, sir." Manni mounted his own horse, ready to follow.
As they set off, Alaric suddenly froze, pulling Soar to a halt. Manni turned, concerned. "Your Grace?"
Alaric's sharp ears picked up a faint whisper—a voice so soft it could have been the wind, yet unmistakable to him.
"Alaric."
It was Salviana.
A mixture of pride and embarrassment filled him. She hadn't shouted or panicked, knowing his heightened senses would pick up even her softest call.
Alaric dismounted instantly, his vampire speed carrying him back to their bedroom in moments.
When he entered, Salviana stood by the window, where she'd called out to him. She turned, her lips curling into a knowing smile.
"You heard," she said simply.
He approached her, his hands framing her face as he kissed her gently. "Salviana, I'd hear your voice even if I were deaf. If I could discern one word in a sea of noise, it would always be yours."
Her cheeks flushed, but her smile didn't waver. "Did I wake you?" he asked, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
She shook her head. "Where were you going?"
Alaric glanced at the window, avoiding her gaze. "It's late. You should go back to sleep."
"Can I come?" she asked softly, clutching the sleeve of his cloak.
Alaric blinked, startled. "What?"
"I want to come with you," she said, her voice steady but vulnerable. "I keep having nightmares. I don't want to be alone."
Alaric hesitated, his brow furrowing. "Fiery, it's not safe—"
"I'll be safe as long as I'm with you," she interrupted, meeting his gaze with unwavering resolve.
"Fiery…" he began, his tone uncertain.
Her expression darkened into a scowl, and he groaned, already knowing he'd lost. "Fine," he relented. "Come on."
Her face lit up with a triumphant smile, but Alaric avoided looking at her, muttering under his breath.
This was undoubtedly a bad idea, but leaving her alone when she was plagued by nightmares was unthinkable.
Alaric took Salviana's arm, gently pulling her toward the wardrobe. She giggled like a maniac, her laughter filling the room with a carefree warmth.