Married To Darkness-Chapter 344: Fiery Kiss & Attraction

The door creaked open, and Alaric stepped inside, the silver tray steady in his hand despite the storm raging within him. His eyes found her instantly—Salviana.

She stood on the balcony, her red hair a cascade of fire against the morning sun, the silk robe Jean must have draped over her slipping slightly off one shoulder.

The wind teased the strands around her face, her skin still pale but glowing softly beneath the light.

His chest ached.

"Fiery?" Alaric bellowed, his voice rough, tentative—like he didn’t quite believe she was real.

Salviana sucked in a sharp breath at the sound of his voice, and when she turned to face him, there was a single word on her lips.

A name—his name—but more than that. A spark. A prayer.

"Fire?"

His heart cracked wide open.

"My love," Alaric growled, the tray clattering onto a nearby table—forgotten the moment he crossed the room.

He reached her in three long strides, his arms wrapping around her without hesitation.

She melted into him, her fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt, her face pressed against his chest as though she was afraid he’d vanish if she let go.

"I missed you," Salviana mumbled into him, her voice small but fierce.

Alaric closed his eyes for a beat, his chin resting atop her head. "I still miss you," he whispered—no, growled—like her presence wasn’t enough to quench the agony of almost losing her.

His arms tightened, his nose pressing into the curve of her neck, inhaling deeply like he needed her scent to anchor him back to reality.

She was here. She was safe.

"Fiery," he murmured again—his voice somewhere between a plea and a promise.

And then he drew back, just enough to capture her face between his large, calloused palms.

His thumbs brushed her cheeks, his fingers threading into her hair. His gaze—dark as midnight, fierce as a storm—searched hers, as though memorizing every detail of her.

Her green eyes. Her parted lips. The way her lashes fluttered against her cheeks.

And then he kissed her.

It wasn’t a soft kiss—it was a claiming.

A wild, searing kiss that spoke of fear and longing and the unbearable ache of almost losing her.

His lips crushed hers, demanding and desperate, but when she kissed him back just as fiercely—her fingers fisting the front of his shirt—his control splintered.

They broke apart only for breath. A sharp inhale. A whispered name. And then their mouths met again—softer this time.

Lingering. Like every brush of lips was a reassurance that the other was still there.

Alaric peppered kisses across her jaw, her cheeks, her forehead—over and over again—like he was trying to kiss away the horror she’d endured.

Salviana giggled softly between the kisses, her voice breathless. "Alaric, you’re—" Another kiss. "—you’re smothering me."

"I’ll never stop," Alaric murmured against her skin, pressing a final kiss to the tip of her nose.

She laughed again—a sweet sound that made his heart stumble.

And then he cupped her face once more, his gaze locking with hers—dark and burning. "I love you, Salviana," he said, his voice raw and certain. "I love you, and I’m so sorry—sorry I didn’t get to you sooner. Sorry I—"

She pressed a finger to his lips. "Don’t be."

If he’d lost her he would’ve lost his mind.

Wyfn-Garde would’ve lost too.

She was his and he never wish to see a day when he’ll know he can’t see her again.

His hand fell to her waist, pulling her impossibly closer. "I can’t lose you. Not now. Not ever."

Her lips curved into a smile—a real one this time—and she tilted her head, her red hair catching the light. "Then you never will, Fire."

And as their lips met again—soft and slow—Alaric knew that whatever storms lay ahead, this was his anchor.

His fiery queen.

Alaric brushed his thumb along Salviana’s cheek one last time, a soft smile tugging at his lips—an expression only she ever got to see.

But the storm in his eyes hadn’t settled, not entirely. His fingers lingered at her waist before he finally stepped back, motioning toward the table where the tray of food waited.

"Come," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "Let’s eat."

Salviana’s gaze didn’t leave his face, her golden eyes flickering with unspoken questions. "You must be hungry, tired... and sad," she whispered.

He gave a quiet chuckle—hoarse and dry. "I am all three." His jaw tightened, his thumb absently rubbing his knuckle—the same knuckle still raw from Jaron’s blood. "But I think we need to talk."

Alaric knew what she meant. The captor. The danger. The looming threat that still clawed at the edges of their fragile peace.

But he shook his head. "Nah... eat first. Talk can wait. I’ll give you all the time in the world afterward."

Her lips parted, hesitation flickering across her face. "The captor... the man—did you...?"

His jaw flexed. "Yes, fiery wife," he growled softly. "He was caught. He’s in the dungeon as we speak."

Salviana’s shoulders sagged, a breath she didn’t know she was holding slipping from her lips. "How will it go?"

His nostrils flared, and for a moment, the demon prince peeked through—the predator that lived just beneath his skin. "Please eat, Salviana," he said, the edge in his voice barely concealed. "We’ll discuss that later."

She studied him carefully, her fingers toying with the loose end of her robe’s belt. "Okay," she finally whispered. Then, with a small, hopeful smile: "Join me?"

Alaric’s gaze softened. "Of course."

He pulled out a chair for her and settled beside her, his knee grazing hers beneath the table—a silent promise that he wasn’t going anywhere.

For now, they would eat.

Later... the world would burn.

While Alaric and Salviana clung to each other behind the closed doors of their chambers...

Sarah was doing everything in her power to avoid him.

The knight. Her knight.

Samion.

He was a new addition to the royal guards, assigned specifically to protect Salviana, which unfortunately meant he was always nearby. Too nearby.