"You're radiant tonight,"
Salviana felt her cheeks flush, her heartbeat quickening. "You always say that," she teased, moving closer to him.
"And I'll keep saying it," he replied, his cold fingers brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Because it's true."
She shivered at his touch, the contrast between his cool skin and her natural warmth sending a pleasant thrill through her. "You're freezing, as usual," she whispered, wrapping her hands around his, her heat seeping into him.
"And you're a furnace," he countered with a smirk, leaning down to press his forehead against hers. "You feel like the sun."
Salviana smiled, her arms looping around his neck. "Then I guess we balance each other out."
He chuckled, the sound deep and rich, and before she could say another word, his lips captured hers.
Their kisses were never simple. Alaric kissed her as though he needed her warmth to survive, his cold lips moving against hers with an urgency that left her breathless.
Salviana responded with equal fervor, her fingers tangling in his hair as his hands rested on her waist, pulling her closer.
The temperature difference between them was intoxicating—his icy touch igniting her every nerve, her heat drawing him in like a moth to a flame.
Alaric's hands slid up her back, his fingertips leaving trails of goosebumps as he deepened the kiss.
Salviana melted against him, her heart hammering in her chest as though trying to match the intensity of his passion.
When they finally broke apart, both were breathless, their foreheads still pressed together. Salviana's cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen, while Alaric's dark eyes glowed faintly with unspoken desire.
"You're insatiable," she teased, her voice trembling slightly.
"It's your fault," he replied, his lips quirking into a crooked smile. "You're too tempting."
They moved to the bed, the thick covers welcoming them as they lay down together. Alaric pulled her close, her warmth seeping into him as he wrapped an arm around her waist.
Salviana rested her head against his chest, the rhythmic thrum of his heartbeat—or what passed for it—comforting in the stillness of the night.
"I wonder," she murmured, her voice soft and drowsy, "what would happen if you kissed me for hours. Would you finally warm up?"
"Only one way to find out," he replied, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
She laughed softly, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. "I think I'd burn you out first."
"Then I'd happily burn," he said, his voice tender as his hand moved to cradle her face.
The two lay entwined, the coolness of his body mingling with her heat in a way that felt natural, perfect.
As Salviana drifted off to sleep, she felt a sense of contentment she hadn't known before. Alaric, with all his coldness and sharp edges, was hers.
And she, with her warmth and softness, was his. Together, they were a paradox, but it was a paradox that worked.
In the quiet darkness of their chamber, they found solace in each other—a love that burned as hot as fire, even in the arms of the cold.
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The evening was heavy with silence, broken only by the occasional creak of wood and the distant murmur of the castle's inhabitants settling into the night.
Jean decided to read, her mind restless and needing an escape.
The warmth of the candles flickered as she lit them, their soft glow casting dancing shadows across the stone walls of her chamber.
She settled into her chair, her book cradled in her lap, and let out a breath, the stillness soothing her nerves.
Just as she began to lose herself in the first line, a sudden whooshing sound broke through the quiet. Her breath hitched, and her spine stiffened as a chill coursed through her.
She gripped the book tightly, her eyes darting around the room, searching for the source of the sound.
"Relax," came a smooth, familiar voice from the darkness.
Jean exhaled sharply, slumping against the back of her chair. "Lucius," she muttered, her heart pounding in her chest. "You scared me."
Lucius stepped into the soft light of the candles, his tall, lean figure cutting an imposing silhouette.
His sharp features were serene, but his silver eyes glinted with faint amusement. "Apologies," he said, his voice velvety and cool. "I didn't mean to frighten you."
"You didn't frighten me," Jean lied, snapping the book shut and placing it on her lap. "You just startled me."
Lucius's lips curved into a half-smile. He leaned against the edge of the doorway, his long fingers brushing the hilt of the blade at his side. "I came to let you know I'll be leaving for a while. The third prince invited me to… socialize."
Jean blinked, her brows furrowing slightly. "Socialize? At this hour?"
His smile widened, a faint glint of fangs appearing. "It's night, Jean. The perfect time for a vampire to be out and about."
She opened her mouth to argue but stopped herself, realizing how absurd it would sound. Of course, it's night, she thought. Of course, he thrives in it.
Instead, she sighed and said, "Stay safe."
Lucius inclined his head, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary. There was something unreadable in his expression, a quiet hunger he masked with ease. "You too," he said softly, turning toward the door.
"Bye," Jean called after him, her voice quieter than she intended.
"Goodnight," he replied, his tone low and smooth as silk.
He disappeared as suddenly as he'd arrived, leaving only the faintest whisper of his presence behind.
The room seemed colder, emptier without him, and Jean shivered slightly as she turned back to her book.
She tried to read, but her thoughts betrayed her. The words blurred on the page as her mind replayed his departure.
She wondered about him—this ancient, enigmatic vampire who had somehow become a part of her life. He carried himself with an elegance and danger that reminded her of the stories she'd read as a child.