Married To Darkness-Chapter 373: In the Inn and A Test

The morning was warm, the air humid and thick as the sun peeked through the dense jungle canopy.

Birds chirped loudly, the river nearby gurgled as it rushed downstream, and the scent of damp earth filled the air.

And Salviana was not having it.

She groaned as she stretched, barely opening her eyes before letting out a long, dramatic sigh.

"It’s too hot."

Jean yawned, rubbing her eyes. "It’s morning, Sal. It’s supposed to be hot."

Salviana turned her head toward Jean lazily, "You’re defending the weather now? Typical."

Jean blinked. "What?!"

Salviana ignored her, kicking off the blanket she had tangled herself in overnight. As she sat up, she caught sight of her reflection in the still water of the river where they had camped. Her brows furrowed.

"Oh, for heaven’s sake! Why are my freckles showing more today? I hate them!"

Alaric, who was in the middle of buckling his belt, paused. "Freckles?" He tilted his head, looking at her smooth skin. "I barely see anything."

Salviana shot him a glare. "That’s because you’re blind, Alaric."

Lucius chuckled from his spot, leaning against a tree with his arms crossed. "Oh, this is going to be a long day."

Salviana wasn’t finished. She pushed herself up, brushing her hair back, only to groan again.

"Ugh, my hair is a mess. Why does traveling have to make it frizz?"

Alaric, ever patient (and a little confused), reached for her hair, his fingers gently untangling some of the strands. "I can help tie it up."

She folded her arms. "Fine. But if you pull too tight, I will scream."

Jean stifled a laugh while Alaric carefully gathered Salviana’s hair, twisting it into a loose bun. "Better?"

Salviana examined it with a pout. "...I suppose."

Jean shook her head. "I think we need to get her some snacks before she burns the jungle down."

"There are no snacks," Salviana deadpanned. "That’s the problem. Who in their right mind forgets snacks on a long journey?"

Alaric exchanged a glance with Lucius, who only smirked.

Jean, meanwhile, had other things on her mind—or rather, someone.

As Lucius walked past her to gather their things, she caught herself watching him a second too long.

He was effortlessly sharp, calm, and calculated, but there was something about the way he handled the simplest tasks that made her heart stutter.

Lucius, ever aware, smirked without looking at her. "Enjoying the view?"

Jean stiffened. "What? I—shut up."

Alaric, pretending not to notice, helped Salviana into the carriage, still puzzled by her unusually moody demeanor.

They continued their journey, the wheels creaking against the dirt road.

Salviana sighed dramatically, resting her head against the window.

"I swear, if this road is bumpy, I’m going to throw someone out."

Lucius smirked. "Noted."

Jean shook her head, trying to fight the warm feeling in her chest as she stole another glance at Lucius.

Alaric? He just prayed for patience.

The journey was swift this time, the carriage rolling over smoother paths as they left the jungle behind. freewebnσvel.cѳm

The air turned crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and fresh grass. But despite the improved ride, Salviana didn’t feel any better.

A light cold sweat clung to her forehead, making her shiver even though it wasn’t particularly cold.

Alaric noticed immediately.

"You’re sweating," he murmured, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket.

She huffed, pressing herself against him. "I feel awful."

Alaric wiped her forehead gently, then placed soft kisses along her temples, her cheeks, the tip of her nose.

Jean, watching from the other side of the carriage, wrinkled her nose. "Alright, we get it. You’re in love."

Lucius smirked but said nothing, just flicked his gaze at Jean, making her cross her arms defensively.

Salviana, however, only pouted deeper, melting into Alaric’s arms like a ragdoll. "I hate this. I want a bed."

As if on cue, Manni spoke from the driver’s seat. "There’s an inn up ahead. Should be a good place to rest for the night."

The relief was instant.

The carriage pulled to a stop in front of a two-story stone inn, dim lanterns flickering outside.

The scent of roasted meat and freshly baked bread wafted through the air, making Jean’s stomach growl.

Before Salviana could attempt to step down, Alaric scooped her into his arms effortlessly.

"No walking for you."

Salviana gasped but didn’t protest. Instead, she rested her head against his chest, sighing contently.

Jean groaned. "Gods, you’re pampered."

Lucius tilted his head at Jean. "You jealous?"

She scoffed. "Of what? Being carried like an invalid? No thanks."

Lucius chuckled, clearly amused.

Meanwhile, Alaric carried Salviana straight into the inn, pushing past the curious stares of travelers and merchants.

"We need rooms," he told the innkeeper, his voice leaving no room for argument.

The old man behind the counter nodded quickly. "Of course, sir. Two rooms?"

"Three," Lucius corrected, tossing a coin pouch onto the counter.

Jean raised an eyebrow. "Why three?"

Lucius smirked. "Unless you want to share with me?"

Jean turned red. "Three rooms is fine!"

Alaric ignored their bickering, focused only on getting Salviana to bed. He carried her up the wooden staircase, pushing open the door to their room.

The moment he set her down, she curled into the bed with a sigh of relief.

"Better?" he asked, kneeling beside her.

She hummed, already half asleep. "Mmm...maybe."

Alaric smirked, brushing a strand of hair from her face before pressing a final kiss to her forehead. "Rest, my love. I’ll be right here."

And as the inn bustled with noise downstairs, Salviana drifted off in the safety of Alaric’s arms.

A gentle knock on the door stirred Alaric from his thoughts.

He turned his head sharply, already on guard, but relaxed when a soft voice called from the other side.

"Milady, I have prepared your bath," a maid announced.

Salviana stirred in bed, her brows furrowed. "Mmm... bath?" she mumbled, still drowsy but clearly intrigued.

Alaric ran a hand through her hair. "Do you want me to carry you there?"

She shot him a glare, albeit weak. "I can walk, you know."

Jean poked her head in through the door. "Come on, princess. You were just melting into his arms like a spoiled kitten, and now you’re acting tough?"

Salviana grumbled but sat up slowly, her movements careful. As she did, a dull pain flared in her lower abdomen, making her wince. She gritted her teeth and swung her legs over the edge of the bed.

Alaric immediately noticed. His sharp eyes darkened. "Are you in pain?"

Salviana waved a hand dismissively. "Nothing serious."

Jean frowned as well. "Liar. What hurts?"

Salviana sighed. "Just... my abdomen. It’s fine."

Jean and Alaric exchanged glances but didn’t push her. Instead, Jean walked over and held out a hand. "Come on, let’s get you into the bath."

The warm steam from the bathing room was comforting as Salviana stepped inside.

The maid had already filled the tub with rose-scented water, the surface shimmering with oils.

"Would you like anything else, milady?" the maid asked softly.

Salviana thought for a moment. "New soft clothes... and a cloth pad."

The maid nodded and hurried away, leaving her alone with Jean.

Jean helped her undress and guided her into the warm water. As soon as Salviana sank into the bath, a relieved sigh escaped her lips.

"Gods, I needed this," she murmured.

Jean sat on a stool beside her, arms crossed. "Are you sure you’re alright? You’ve been moody all day, and now you’re in pain."

Salviana gave a small smile. "I think it’s just exhaustion. Traveling, the heat, the stress... I just need to rest."

Jean wasn’t convinced but didn’t argue.

When Salviana was done, Jean helped her out and into a fresh, soft linen gown, loose and comfortable.

The maid returned with what she requested, and Salviana discreetly handled it before sliding into bed.

She curled under the covers, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle over her. Alaric returned just then.

The moment Alaric stepped into the room, he froze.

The scent hit him instantly—rich, warm, unmistakable. The air was filled with the soft fragrance of Salviana’s blood, delicate yet overwhelming, like ripe strawberries crushed under the summer sun.

His fangs itched. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, and his throat burned.

Not now. Not now. Not now.

Salviana stirred under the covers, her golden lashes fluttering open. Her eyes, hazy with exhaustion, met his frozen form.

"Alaric?" she murmured sleepily.

He didn’t respond. He couldn’t. His entire body was locked in place, his muscles coiled tight.

She blinked, then slowly pushed herself up on her elbows. "Alaric, what’s wrong?"

His jaw clenched. He swallowed hard, breathing through his nose, but that only made it worse. The scent curled around him like an intoxicating spell, slipping under his skin, taunting him.

He wanted to go to her. Hold her. Comfort her. But he also wanted to sink his teeth into her soft skin and drink deep.

His wife. His divine lady. The sweetest temptation he’d ever known.

But she needed him.

And he would not fail her.

With sheer willpower, Alaric forced his feet forward, moving stiffly toward the bed. Every step felt like a battle. He could hear her heartbeat, steady but tired, hear the slow rush of blood through her veins.

She smelled divine.

She is not prey, he reminded himself. She is your wife.

Salviana watched him carefully, her brows knitting together in concern. "You’re pale..."

He almost laughed.

Instead, he exhaled sharply and lowered himself onto the bed beside her. His hand shook slightly as he reached for her, but he forced himself to stroke her hair instead of gripping her too tightly.

"You’re in pain," he murmured, his voice rough.

Salviana sighed and leaned into his touch. "A little. But I’ll survive."

She had no idea what she was doing to him.

No idea that his control was hanging by a fragile thread.

He gently pulled the covers up around her, tucking her in with careful, measured movements. Then he tilted his head back and exhaled through his mouth, avoiding breathing in her scent directly.

She reached for his hand and squeezed it lightly. "Alaric?"

"Mmm?" His voice was strained.

She hesitated. Then, with the smallest, sleepiest smile, she whispered, "Thank you for staying."

Alaric stared at her, his ravenous hunger battling fiercely against his devotion.

And devotion won.

He leaned down, pressing the lightest kiss to her forehead, and whispered back, "Always."

Even if it killed him.