Married To Darkness
Chapter 443: How He Feels In Bed
CHAPTER 443: HOW HE FEELS IN BED
"It’s not funny" Lucius groaned.
"I know." Alaric’s face softened slightly. "But once we’re out of danger—once the heat dies down—I promise, we’ll dive into it full force. We’ll trace every lead, every whisper. We’ll find others like us."
Lucius was quiet for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he muttered, "You always did like making promises you can’t keep."
Alaric smirked faintly. "I’m not sure there’s any I haven’t kept and that’s why you love me."
Lucius snorted despite himself.
"In the meantime," Alaric continued, resting a hand on Lucius’s shoulder, "we could try every possible fun. We’ve earned it. Just a little."
Lucius gave him a sharp look.
"I don’t think—"
"Don’t think," Alaric cut him off gently. "Just... live. If only for today."
Lucius’s eyes flicked toward the bustling plaza where Salviana and Jean were laughing over a pair of ridiculous feathered hats.
He let out a sigh. "Fine. One more day of pretending. But after that..."
"After that, we find out what made us."
They rejoined the others, the shadows still clinging quietly to Lucius’s shoulders. But for now, he let them rest there.
There was a time for ghosts.
But not today.
Laughter spilled from the bakeries, bells jingled on merchant stalls, and the smell of sweetened cinnamon bread danced through the air.
It should have been an ordinary, even pleasant, moment.
But Alaric’s heart was hammering in his chest.
He stood outside the small clothing boutique Salviana had walked into just minutes before—except now, she was nowhere in sight.
He stepped through the wooden doors, a small bell chiming overhead.
"Excuse me," Alaric asked, scanning the shop filled with color and chatter. "Have you seen my wife?"
A group of ladies turned mid-laugh, blinking at him. One of them, a dark-haired girl with too much rouge on her cheeks, tilted her head. "Your... wife?"
"Yes," Alaric nodded, trying to stay calm, though his eyes were already flicking over the racks. "She’s quite... noticeable. Striking red hair, and eyes like hopeful firelight."
The women exchanged looks. One shrugged. "I’m not sure..."
Another woman, slightly younger, was folding a bolt of fabric and paused when his intense gaze turned to her. "Did you see her? She’d be hard to miss, too ethereal for this dusty place."
She gave a sheepish smile. "No sir. I didn’t."
Alaric’s lips thinned. He gave a short, polite nod and turned away.
The bell above the door jingled once more as he stepped back out, his black cloak billowing slightly in the cold mountain breeze.
Behind the far curtain of the boutique, hidden and breathless, Salviana stayed completely still.
Her fingers gripped the edge of the velvet drape, knuckles pale.
She had only meant to try on a dress. A silly little thing. Something soft. Something green.
But when she’d heard his voice echo through the room, so sudden and searching, she hadn’t known why she ducked behind the curtain.
Maybe she wanted to see what he would say.
Maybe she wanted to hear how he described her.
Maybe I’m being ridiculous, she thought. But her heart fluttered anyway.
The girls near the door kept talking.
"Do you know who that is?" whispered one of them, eyes wide.
"No," another answered dreamily. "But he’s so handsome."
"You wouldn’t say that if you knew who he was," the first replied with a dramatic hush.
Salviana’s brows arched.
Oh?
"Who is he?" the curious one asked.
"That’s the third prince of Wyfn-Garde," the first whispered. "Straight from Wyfkeep castle, I’m sure."
A loud gasp. "The demon prince?"
Salviana had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing aloud. She leaned closer to the curtain edge.
"Why’s he looking for his wife here?" another asked, scandal dripping from her tone. "Did she finally run away from him?"
"Oh no," a girl said, hand over heart. "Scandal!"
"I wonder what the demon prince is like in bed," one murmured with a giggle.
Salviana blinked, scandalized.
"Why would you imagine that?" her friend asked, mortified.
"I don’t know, just... look at him!" she said, blushing and biting her lip.
Salviana tilted her head thoughtfully. Honestly... fair question.
One of the girls gasped. "Can you imagine how commanding he must be? All power and brooding stares..."
Salviana couldn’t help herself.
"I wonder how he is in bed too," she whispered under her breath.
She stood there, frozen in her little curtain cocoon, realizing with a strange mixture of embarrassment and amusement... They weren’t wrong.
They didn’t know he hadn’t even made me a woman yet. We sleep in the same bed, and yet... nothing.
Her fingers brushed the small ribbon tied at her wrist, he had held her like a kid all through the town earlier. Oh Alaric does he see heras a kid?, she sighed inwardly.
How long do we keep pretending we’re not married in every way but one?
Outside, Alaric paced slightly, jaw tight, his midnight eyes still scanning the crowd. Where did you go, fiery wife? You disappear and take my sanity with you.
Little did he know, his wife was sighing behind a curtain.
And plotting revenge.
The curtain rustled.
One of the girls turned just in time to see Salviana stepping out, dress cinched at the waist, her red hair cascading over one shoulder, face flushed—not from embarrassment, but righteous fury.
The entire boutique quieted.
"I see your tongues wag faster than your minds can think," Salviana said sweetly, folding her hands in front of her. "I was only back there for five minutes and already I’m a runaway scandal?"
The girl who had swooned about the demon prince stammered. "Princess! W-We didn’t mean—"
"Oh, you meant every word," Salviana said, smiling like the blade of a knife. "And next time you whisper, try to aim for accuracy."
The shopkeeper froze, and the other girls exchanged panicked looks.
"You don’t know me, and you certainly don’t know my husband," Salviana continued, stepping toward them, her green skirts swishing. "But it’s adorable how you pretend to live lives that would crumble under half the weight I carry daily."
She looked one of the girls dead in the eyes. "You wish you had the courage to marry a man the world calls a demon, and still love him like a king."
One of the ladies gasped, then scoffed. "Well, you’re clearly insecure if you had to hide and listen in—"
"I wasn’t hiding," Salviana said, voice steel. "I was trying on a gown. But gods, thank you for the theatre. You should consider a profession—though I doubt the capital funds petty envy."
Before the girl could retort, the bell above the shop chimed again.
Alaric.