Salviana shifted on his lap, her breath already coming out in soft, eager little gasps. She had barely gotten his still-hard cock pressed against her before Alaric moved—fast, too fast for a drunk man.
"Wait," he said, his voice low, almost strained. His hands slid to her waist, holding her still.
"Wait?" She blinked, her flushed face falling. "Alaric, I just—"
But before she could finish, he stood, lifting her as if she weighed nothing. He was unsteady—she could feel it in the way his steps wavered—but his strength was still undeniable. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, her hands gripping his shoulders.
"Alaric—"
"You shouldn’t tempt when I’m like this," he murmured, his forehead briefly pressing to hers. His voice was low, ragged, his breath still uneven from what she had just done to him. "I’m already fighting every instinct I have not to..."
"Not to what? To love ? To take like I’m your wife?" Her voice cracked, frustration seeping through.
He winced, as if her words were a blade to his chest, but he didn’t stop moving.
"Not to lose myself," he said finally, his tone almost broken. "You don’t understand, Fiery... if I do, I might never stop."
She looked at him, her eyes wide, searching his face. "And you think I care? That I’m afraid? You think I don’t trust you?"
He sighed, the sound heavy, pained. "You trust more than I deserve."
Her heart twisted at that.
The stairs creaked beneath his boots as he carried her back to their chambers. Salviana’s anger lted into sothing else entirely—hurt, longing, love all tangled together.
"Alaric..." she whispered, her hands sliding to his jaw as he reached the room. "One day, you’ll believe when I say I’m yours. Entirely yours."
He didn’t answer, just laid her down gently on the bed. His movents softened now, his touch lingering on her hair as he brushed a lock away from her flushed face.
"Sleep," he said finally, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "I’ll hold you."
"You’re avoiding ," she accused softly, though she lted into his arms when he slid in beside her.
"I’m protecting you," he corrected, pulling her against his chest. His body was warm despite the chill of his skin, his heartbeat—unnatural, uneven—thrumming against her ear.
They lay in silence for a while, his arm wrapped firmly around her waist, holding her as if she might vanish. Eventually, his breaths deepened, soft snores escaping him—drunk, finally overtaken by exhaustion.
Salviana stared at the ceiling, her fingers lightly tracing the veins on his hand where it rested against her stomach. She wanted to cry, to shake him, to demand he stop holding back when she wanted all of him.
But instead, she only sighed, her lips brushing his knuckles.
"Soday soon, Alaric," she whispered, determined, her eyes softening as she glanced at his peaceful sleeping face. "Soday soon, you’ll trust yourself as much as I trust you. And then... you’ll make yours completely."
Her heart pounded at the thought, but she closed her eyes, nestling closer into his chest.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow, she would try again.
The first rays of dawn painted the sky in shades of peach and rose, slipping through the grand balcony windows and spilling across the chamber. The air slled faintly of fresh roses and lavender oil—soone, likely Sarah, had refreshed the incense while they slept.
Salviana woke first.
Her head rested on Alaric’s chest, the rise and fall of his breathing steady beneath her cheek. He was utterly still, save for the quiet sound of his breaths and the faintest, uncharacteristic snore—a reminder of his unusual, blood-drunk state last night. His arm was draped over her waist, heavy and possessive even in sleep, as if so part of him feared she might slip away the mont he loosened his hold.
But Salviana had no intention of slipping away. Not from him.
She lifted her head slightly, her gaze lingering on his face. The sharp angles softened in sleep, his jaw unclenched, his usually intense, vigilant brows relaxed. He looked younger like this, almost human. Almost fragile.
Almost.
She traced a fingertip lightly over his cheek, careful not to wake him.
"You’re always fighting sothing, aren’t you, Alaric? Even now, in your sleep. But I’ll make you see that you don’t have to fight too."
The thought made her lips press into a determined line. If she wanted her husband to trust himself fully with her—if she wanted him to finally let go of the fear that kept him from making love to her—then she had to push just a little harder.
She slipped out from beneath his arm, moving slowly so as not to disturb him. His arm twitched when she moved, his brow furrowing faintly, but then he sank back into sleep with a soft groan.
Salviana exhaled with relief. "Sleep, my love," she whispered under her breath. "Dream of ."
She padded across the room, the cool marble floor chilling her bare feet, and tugged the bell rope for her maids.
Sarah, Thalia, and Emma arrived monts later, their faces lighting up when they saw her awake.
"My lady, you’re up early!" Sarah whispered, glancing over at the bed where the infamous demon prince still lay sprawled, very much asleep.
Thalia smirked mischievously. "The prince snores?"
"Thalia!" Emma hissed, her cheeks reddening as if just saying it was a sin.
Salviana only smiled faintly, keeping her voice low. "He’s tired. And drunk," she added softly, glancing back at him. Her heart squeezed a little. He was so rarely like this—unguarded, vulnerable.
She straightened and faced the maids, her tone suddenly more determined. "I need your help."
The maids exchanged glances. "With what, my lady?"
Salviana moved closer to them, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "Today, I’m going to remind my husband who he married. Not the princess, not the divine lady. ."
Emma blinked interested. "You... want to seduce him?"
Salviana smiled, a bit shy but also wickedly determined. "I want him to stop holding back. To trust . To stop fearing himself when it cos to . So yes—help look..." Her cheeks ward as she finished, "irresistible."
Thalia grinned like a cat ready to pounce. "Oh, I’ve been waiting for this day."
Sarah shook her head with a fond sigh. "You’re impossible, my lady. But very well—let’s make you shine."
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