CHAPTER 461: HER SLENDER NECK

The Dressing Room

The maids moved quickly, whispering to each other as they selected fabrics and accessories. Sarah chose a soft, flowing gown in deep crimson—a color that always made Alaric’s dark eyes burn hotter. Thalia added delicate gold jewelry, while Emma carefully brushed out Salviana’s red hair until it shone like molten fire.

"Not too much perfume," Salviana reminded them. "Just enough for him to notice when he’s close."

"Close, huh?" Thalia smirked. "Oh, he’ll be close, my lady. He’ll be very close."

"Thalia!" Emma scolded again, though her own cheeks were flushed pink.

Salviana chuckled under her breath, though her heart was pounding. She wasn’t just doing this for herself—she wanted him to feel safe with her, to finally stop running from his own desire.

When they were done, she stood before the mirror, staring at her reflection.

The crimson gown clung to her in all the right places, her hair a cascade of polished waves, her lips tinted the softest rose.

"Do you think he’ll like it?" she asked softly.

"Like it?" Thalia grinned. "My lady, he’s going to wish he never let you out of bed."

Salviana bit her lip to hide her smile, her pulse quickening.

She turned back toward the bed where Alaric still slept soundly, sprawled and utterly unaware of the storm his wife was planning for him.

Soon, she promised herself. Soon, I’ll make you see there’s nothing to fear. Nothing but me.

Just as Salviana was about to slip on her shoes, a sharp knock at the door interrupted the soft chatter of the maids.

Jean Goliath, her ever-loyal lady-in-waiting, stepped inside with that same confident sway of hers. Her sharp eyes scanned Salviana once, from the crown of her head to the hem of the crimson gown, and she smirked knowingly.

"Excuse us," Jean said smoothly to the maids, motioning with her hand.

The maids blinked, startled, but one look at Jean’s expression told them she wasn’t asking. Sarah and Emma exchanged curious glances, Thalia sighed dramatically as if she was being robbed of the fun, but they all curtsied and left, closing the door behind them.

Jean crossed the room and stopped in front of Salviana, folding her arms. "You’re planning something."

Salviana flushed, caught, though she didn’t deny it. "I just want him to stop holding back with me, Jean."

Jean raised a brow, her lips twitching into a sly grin. "So you want to seduce the demon prince, hmm? Good. About time."

Salviana blushed even harder, fiddling with the gold bracelet Sarah had clasped on her wrist. "Not seduce. Just... show him that he doesn’t have to be afraid of me. Or of himself."

Jean’s smirk softened into something almost approving. "Then you need to use the right weapons."

Salviana tilted her head. "Weapons?"

Jean stepped closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially, her sharp eyes glinting with mischief. "Vampires, my lady, have a weakness."

Salviana’s brows knit in confusion. "A weakness?"

Jean leaned in, whispering near her ear like she was sharing some forbidden secret.

"The neck. Vampires love the neck."

Salviana’s eyes widened. "The... neck?"

Jean straightened, nodding seriously, though her grin betrayed her amusement. "Yes. Show it off. Bare it. Make him look. It will drive him insane, because it’s instinct. They’re drawn to it—the pulse, the warmth, the vulnerability."

Salviana raised her hands to her hair, hesitant. "But my hair—"

Jean was already behind her, fingers in her red locks, swiftly gathering them up. "No, no, no," Jean muttered, working fast. "You’re hiding half your power behind all this fire. He loves your hair, yes, but today, you’ll make him crave you in a way that will undo him completely."

She twisted Salviana’s hair into an elegant but loose updo, deliberately leaving strands falling to frame her face while baring the full length of her slender neck.

When Jean stepped back, Salviana turned to the mirror—and froze.

The effect was... devastating.

Her neck looked impossibly long, graceful, soft against the deep crimson of her gown. The updo made her look more regal, yes, but also more—she swallowed—tempting.

Jean smiled like a cat admiring its own cleverness. "Oh, he’s going to eat you alive."

Salviana’s cheeks burned, but she couldn’t help a nervous smile. "Do you think he’ll notice?"

Jean scoffed. "My lady, he’s a vampire. He won’t just notice—he’ll feel it in his bones. Trust me, when he sees you, that man is going to fight every instinct he has not to pin you against the nearest wall."

Salviana’s pulse quickened at the thought. She pressed her hands to her heated cheeks. "Jean..."

Jean placed her hands on Salviana’s shoulders firmly. "Listen to me. You want him to trust himself? To stop holding back? Then stop being afraid to push him. You’re not fragile. You’re his wife. Make him remember that."

Salviana took a deep breath, determination flooding her chest.

"Good," Jean said with a satisfied nod. "Now... go wake your prince."

Before she could move ten steps a conversation drew her attention, Heppal was passing information. Salviana listened after he came inside and the moment the knight announced, "The Tenth Princess is here to see you," Salviana’s face lit up like the sun breaking through clouds.

"Princess Florence?" she asked, already stepping toward the door.

"Yes, my lady."

Her heart leapt, and though part of her wanted to rush back to wake Alaric—to share this small joy with him—she knew better than to disturb his rare sleep. A friendly visit sounded far better than dragging him out of bed when he was finally getting some rest.

So she hurried out, skirts swishing, her heart fluttering at the sight that awaited her in the hall.

"Flo!" Salviana gasped, rushing forward.

The young princess turned, her cheeks flushed with pregnancy, her eyes wide—and already brimming with tears.

"Welcome back, Salviana," Florence said, her voice quivering. "We missed you."

Salviana hugged her before words could fail her, careful but firm, taking in the delicate swell of her belly.

"Oh, Flo, you’re glowing!" Salviana gushed, holding her at arm’s length, studying her as if trying to memorize every detail. "But oh, you look ready to cry."