The air was thick with the scent of rain as they stumbled into bed, their soaked clothes falling away piece by piece.
The storm outside mirrored the tempest brewing between them—lust, longing, and something deeper, something raw.
Alaric's hands were everywhere, his touch igniting fires on Salviana's skin. His mouth explored her body with reverence and hunger, sucking, nipping, and tasting her until she was trembling beneath him.
She gasped when his lips traveled lower, his tongue parting her folds, teasing and tasting her.
He gripped her thighs firmly, holding her in place as he devoured her, the sensations cresting higher and higher until she shattered, her cries echoing in the room.
For a moment, she floated in the aftermath, her chest heaving, her body alive with the warmth of his touch.
She reached for him, expecting him to return to her, to consummate the love they so clearly shared. But instead of pressing forward, he pulled her into his arms, his jaw tight and his gaze distant.
Seconds passed in heavy silence, and her initial glow of satisfaction began to dim. She frowned, confusion swirling in her mind.
"Why did you stop?" she asked softly, summoning the courage to voice her thoughts.
His arms tightened around her, and for a moment, she thought he might avoid answering entirely. But then, he shifted, his voice low and strained.
"I fear what would happen if I continue," he admitted.
Her frown deepened. She propped herself up on her elbow to look at him, her damp red hair falling around her face. "But—"
"No." He cut her off sharply. "I don't trust myself."
His voice cracked slightly as he continued, his confession spilling out in a torrent. "This hunger I feel… It's overwhelming. The urge to rip you apart, to lose myself in you completely—it terrifies me. I want to fill every part of you, to claim you entirely, but I fear…" His voice broke, and he clenched his fists. "I don't even know myself, Salviana. I fear losing control. I fear losing you."
She stared at him, his raw vulnerability cutting into her heart. "You will never kill me," she declared firmly, her voice steady despite the storm in her chest.
"I killed my mother!" he snapped, his voice full of anguish.
Her breath hitched as though he had slapped her. "You were a baby," she said gently after a long pause. "You didn't know. And you don't even know for sure that you killed her. Women die in childbirth—it's tragic, but it happens. I've told you that before. You can't keep blaming yourself."
His silence was deafening, his guilt palpable.
Salviana bit her lip, hesitating before asking, "Is that why you've been distant? Why you avoid being intimate with me?" She dropped her head, her fiery red hair shielding her face. "I thought… I thought you found me unattractive."
"Salviana," he said, his voice filled with quiet intensity. He reached for her, his fingers lifting her chin so their eyes met. "You could never be unattractive to me. Never. I just…" He faltered. "I'm sorry."
She took a deep breath, her voice soft but resolute. "We're married, Alaric. We'll have to move forward someday. We can't keep avoiding this."
He sighed deeply, pulling her closer into his arms. Her bare skin pressed against his as he whispered, "I'm not ready, Salviana. Please… just stay in my arms."
Her heart ached for him, for his pain and his fears. "I want you to be satisfied," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I am satisfied," he replied firmly, his lips brushing against her forehead.
She couldn't argue with him, even though she wished she could take away his doubts, his guilt, and the shadows that haunted him. If it were possible, she would bear those burdens for him.
As she nestled closer into his embrace, she couldn't help but wonder if, deep down, a part of her feared him too. Feared the monstrous side he spoke of, the one that he believed would harm her if unleashed.
But that fear didn't overshadow her love. Alaric was hers, and she was his. No matter what shadows loomed over them, she would stay. She would accept him, all of him—the darkness, the light, and everything in between.
/
The maids worked tirelessly, their movements precise and coordinated as they cleaned up the garden tools, wiped down surfaces, and ensured the garden area was spotless.
Sarah and Thalia exchanged smiles as they prepared a warm bath for Salviana, sprinkling fragrant oils and rose petals into the steaming water.
Meanwhile, Emma busied herself with setting the table for dinner, arranging delicate dishes of roasted meat, fresh vegetables, and a warm loaf of bread at the center.
Once the tasks were complete, the three maids retreated to their posts, awaiting further instructions. Yet, while Sarah and Thalia whispered quietly about the couple's apparent affection, Emma's mind was elsewhere.
Her hands were idle, but her thoughts were far from still.
She was still contemplating her earlier suspicions about the knights stationed around the estate. Something about their movements had felt… off. And she was certain she had noticed a particular knight acting differently.
If only I could confirm it, she thought, her lips pressing into a thin line.
Richard.
Spying on the knights was dangerous, but she felt confident now that she had identified the right one to watch. All she needed was discretion.
One slip-up, and the consequences could be severe—for her, for the household, and, most importantly, for Lady Salviana.
"Emma?" Sarah called, snapping her out of her reverie.
Emma looked up sharply. "Yes?"
"Come on, let's check the fire in the chambers before our lady and lord retire for the evening," Sarah said with a kind smile.
Emma nodded, brushing down her apron. "Of course."
But as she followed Sarah and Thalia to the chambers, she resolved to find a way to slip out unnoticed.
She would need to tread carefully, but she was determined. Whatever the knights were hiding, Emma intended to uncover it.