CHAPTER 469: THE SWEET THINGS RESTAURANT

"Then come with me. You’re about to taste something you’ll never forget."

They both stepped out, leaving their maids and guards behind at Alaric’s request.

The streets of Wyfkeep were buzzing as they rode into the heart of the city. Alaric, draped in his dark cloak with his arm resting casually around Salviana’s waist, drew eyes as always—his presence sharp and commanding, making space wherever he went. But Salviana, her hair still pinned up to reveal the graceful line of her neck, seemed to be all he saw.

When they finally arrived, she gasped. The restaurant stood like a grand jewel in the middle of the street—a massive glass-walled building glowing warmly with candlelight. The sign above read "The Golden Crumble" in elegant cursive, and through the windows, Salviana caught glimpses of tables stacked high with delicate pastries, cakes, and every sort of sweet imaginable.

"Alaric... this place is..." she trailed off, her eyes wide.

"Too sweet?" he asked, pretending to be serious as he dismounted and helped her down.

"It’s... beautiful," she said honestly, the excitement on her face making him grin.

Inside, they were given the best table—of course. Alaric merely looked at the host, and people shifted. Salviana flushed as she noticed others sneaking glances at them.

"Why here?" she asked, leaning slightly forward as they sat.

Alaric leaned back, his eyes never leaving her. "Because I wanted to see you smile like this."

The waiter arrived, setting down an extravagant platter of sweets: cream-filled pastries, delicate sugar sculptures, tiny cakes glazed with golden honey, soft berry tarts, and even sugared nuts.

Salviana blinked. "Alaric, this is... this must have cost—"

"Nothing that matters," he interrupted smoothly. "Eat. That’s all you need to do."

She picked up a small tart, laughing shyly. "You’re not eating?"

"No. I told you before—I only came here to taste something far sweeter."

Salviana froze, heat rushing to her face, and he chuckled at her reaction.

As she tasted the desserts, Alaric made absolutely no effort to behave. His fingers brushed her hair from her face, trailing deliberately against her cheek.

"You have cream here," he said softly, his thumb grazing the corner of her lips before he licked it off his own thumb, slow and teasing.

"Alaric..." she whispered, mortified and flustered.

"What? I can’t have my wife walking around with cream on her lips, can I?" His smirk deepened.

When she tried to focus on eating, his hand rested on her arm, sometimes tracing patterns with his fingers, sometimes sliding to tuck a strand of hair back only for his fingers to linger at the curve of her neck.

Salviana finally set down her fork, narrowing her eyes at him. "You’re distracting me."

"Am I? Or are you just imagining things, fiery wife?" he replied innocently, though the glint in his eyes betrayed him.

At one point, she bit into a soft cream puff, and a bit of filling escaped the corner of her mouth. Before she could wipe it away, Alaric leaned in and, very deliberately, licked it away from her lip.

She almost choked, pulling back slightly. "Alaric!"

He chuckled, his voice low and warm. "I warned you, Salviana. I came here for you, not the sweets."

Her cheeks turned a furious shade of red, and she tried to focus on her plate, but the way his eyes stayed on her, dark and heated, made it impossible to think of anything else.

And maybe that was the point.

She ate, flustered, and he watched her like she was the only dessert that mattered.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked finally, her voice softening despite herself.

Alaric leaned his cheek against his palm, his eyes never leaving hers. "Because you’re mine. And right now, Salviana Velthorne, you’re the sweetest thing in this entire city."

Her heart stuttered at the way he said it—soft, possessive, and utterly sincere.

And though he was the one refusing to consummate their marriage, she couldn’t help but think she could get used to this kind of attention... this kind of love.

The evening air was warm with a soft breeze as they stepped out of The Golden Crumble. The streets of Wyfkeep were still alive with chatter and glowing lanterns, but to Salviana, it felt as though the world had quieted just for them.

Alaric handed the reins of Soar—their sleek black horse—to a stable hand near the horse holders. "We’ll pick him up later," he said casually.

Salviana frowned, her hands instinctively going to her full stomach. "Wait. You’re not serious about walking back, are you? It’s... so far, Alaric. And I’m full. You might have to roll me back home."

A wicked grin curved his lips. "Do you forget who you married? I can always teleport us. I simply thought you’d like the stroll. But if you’d rather be carried—"

"No!" she cut him off, laughing. "I can walk. I just might complain a little."

"Complain all you want, fiery wife. I enjoy hearing your voice."

So they began their slow journey back to the castle, the cobblestone streets glistening faintly under the lantern lights. Salviana walked ahead for a moment, lifting the edges of her dress slightly as she spun in a playful circle, the soft fabric swirling around her.

Alaric slowed his pace, watching her with an amused expression. "You look like you’re dancing for me."

She twirled again, laughing, her hair catching the light. "I’m just walking. Maybe I should dance if you’re going to say that."

"Do it," he challenged, his dark eyes gleaming. "Dance for me right here, Salviana. Or are you shy?"

She stuck her tongue out at him and walked ahead instead, pretending to ignore him.

But she didn’t get far.

One moment, Alaric was a few paces behind her. The next, he was simply there—appearing at her side in the blink of an eye. Salviana startled, gasping as he leaned in and stole a quick kiss from her cheek.

"Alaric!" she exclaimed, stepping back.

"What? I told you—I can teleport, remember?" His grin was infuriatingly smug.

She turned and walked ahead faster. "You’re insufferable."

A soft whoosh of air—and he appeared on her other side, this time kissing her temple before disappearing again just as quickly.

"Alaric! Stop it!" she laughed, swatting at empty air.

"Can’t," his voice teased from somewhere behind her. "My wife looks too tempting when she pouts."

Another blink, and he was in front of her now, walking backward while facing her, hands in his pockets like this was all very normal.

"You’re going to trip!" she warned.

"I never trip," he said smoothly, leaning in to steal a quick kiss from her lips before teleporting to her side again.

Salviana pressed her hands to her heated cheeks, trying to suppress her laughter. "You’re shameless!"

"Only with you," he murmured, his voice dropping softer now, almost sincere.