Married To Darkness-Chapter 374: Insufferable and yeah

Salviana stirred from sleep with a low groan, her body feeling sticky and uncomfortably warm.

Alaric was still in bed beside her, his strong arms wrapped around her, his body heat pressing into her. The moment she groaned, he shifted, rising onto his elbow. His sharp blue eyes immediately flickered with concern.

"What’s wrong?" he asked, voice thick from staying still for too long.

Salviana wriggled slightly, trying to push him off. "You. You’re too warm. Stop hugging me."

Alaric blinked, then grinned. "Oh?"

Her glare sharpened. "Don’t laugh."

He chuckled anyway. "You think this is funny?"

"A little."

Salviana huffed, crossing her arms, and turned her back to him dramatically.

That only made him grin wider. She was moody, fiery, and absolutely adorable.

With a sigh, he finally sat up and ran a hand through his messy midnight locks. "Alright, alright. Stay put."

He got out of bed and left the room, returning moments later with a bowl of cool water and a soft rag. He dipped the rag into the water, wrung it out, and gently pressed it against her forehead.

Salviana melted.

Her eyes fluttered closed as the cold dampness soothed her overheated skin. "Mmm. Finally, you’re useful."

Alaric arched a brow. "Excuse me?"

She smirked without opening her eyes. "You heard me."

Alaric smirked back, slowly trailing the cool cloth down her cheek, then her neck. He took his time, enjoying the way she shivered under his touch.

"I should be offended," he murmured, voice low and teasing, "but I’ll let it slide. Since you’re suffering and all."

Salviana cracked one eye open. "Good. Now keep going."

"Yes, my lady," he said with a dramatic bow, then continued dabbing her overheated skin with care.

Jean peeked into the room at that moment, saw what was happening, and stifled a laugh.

Lucius, behind her, shook his head. "They’re ridiculous."

Jean grinned. "They’re in love."

Lucius rolled his eyes. "Same thing."

Then evening came, and they needed to dine.

The dining hall was lively—a stark contrast to the tension simmering beneath the surface.

Salviana sat comfortably, finally in a good mood, enjoying the delicious food served at the inn. She had been miserable all day, but this meal? Oh, it was heaven.

"This is so good," she sighed happily, taking another bite of the rich stew.

Jean grinned. "Right? The bread is so soft, and the spices—"

CLANK.

A chair scraped back harshly.

Lucius had abruptly stood up, his jaw clenched, his fists tight against the table.

Jean blinked. "Lucius?"

But he was already turning away. "I need air," he muttered, walking out of the dining hall at a measured but tense pace.

Jean glanced at Salviana, then at Alaric. "I’ll go check on him."

She got up and followed Lucius, leaving just Salviana and Alaric behind.

A heavy sigh left both their lips at the same time.

Salviana chewed slowly, her gaze sliding toward her husband. Alaric was still sitting, still watching her, but there was a distinct tension in his frame.

His blue eyes were darkening, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the wood.

She set her spoon down and tilted her head. "Are you okay?"

Alaric’s lips curled into a tight smile. "I’ll survive."

But his voice was low. Husky.

And his gaze— oh, his gaze was heavy.

She narrowed her eyes. "Are you sure?"

He swallowed and exhaled through his nose. "Salviana, darling... I’m a vampire." His voice was dangerously smooth. "And your scent is..."

She raised a brow. "Is?"

He let out a low, strained chuckle. "Let’s just say, dinner smells better than usual tonight."

She snorted. "Well, too bad for you, I’m enjoying this meal." She shoved another spoonful into her mouth dramatically.

Alaric groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "You’re insufferable."

She grinned. "I know. Now sit there and suffer, my love."

Alaric leaned back, his hungry gaze never leaving her.

Oh, he was suffering alright.

But he loved her.

in the end they decided the girls would stay together and the men went out.

The inn’s walls were thin, letting in the distant sounds of laughter, the occasional clinking of mugs, and the low hum of a bard’s tune drifting from the tavern below.

But inside their small, candle-lit room,

Salviana and Jean lay sprawled across the soft bedding, the night stretching long ahead of them.

Salviana, bundled under warm covers, rested on her side, her arms wrapped around a pillow.

Jean sat cross-legged beside her, animatedly talking, her hands moving in wide gestures as she described one of her past adventures.

The flickering candle cast shadows against the walls, highlighting the excitement in her face.

"You have no idea, Salviana," Jean began, her voice full of passion. "I once dug up this ancient pendant in the Eastern Dunes. It had this peculiar engraving—it looked like some kind of runic script. At first, I thought it was just decoration, but when I took it back for examination, we found traces of old magic still lingering in the metal."

Salviana hummed sleepily, adjusting her position, her long dark hair spilling over her pillow. "Magic, huh? What did you do with it?"

Jean grinned. "Well, I handed it over to the scholars for study—but not before I did my own research first. I mean, come on, I had to know what it was before some old men in robes got their hands on it. Turns out, it was a protection charm, one that once belonged to an ancient queen. Can you imagine? The last person who held it might have been royalty."

Salviana chuckled, her voice still laced with drowsiness. "And what if the scholars decided to keep it for themselves?"

"Oh, trust me," Jean leaned in conspiratorially, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I made sure they didn’t. I might have accidentally switched it with a replica before turning it in."

Salviana’s brows lifted. "You stole it?"

"Borrowed," Jean corrected with a wink. "For educational purposes."

Salviana let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "You’re incorrigible."

Jean flopped onto her back, staring at the wooden ceiling beams. "I just love discovery. Digging up the past, holding something in your hands that hasn’t seen daylight in centuries—it’s like touching history itself."

Salviana sighed. "You’re passionate about what you do. That’s rare."

Jean turned her head, smiling. "And what about you? What makes you feel that way?"

Salviana hesitated. She never really talked about herself much. But with Jean, it felt natural—effortless even.

She exhaled. "I guess... I love the idea of creating something that lasts. Unlike your artifacts, I don’t dig up old things—I want to build new ones. A legacy, a life that means something."

Jean propped herself on her elbow. "Like how?"

Salviana’s gaze softened. "Like my father did. He built our name from nothing. I want to do the same. Not just as a princess or a noblewoman, but as a person. I want people to remember me for what I did—not just for who I married or where I was born."

Jean studied her for a moment before grinning. "That’s noble of you."

Salviana rolled her eyes. "I am noble."

Jean snorted. "You know what I meant."

They laughed, their giggles filling the room.

After a moment of silence, Jean spoke again, her voice softer. "I also rescue kittens, you know."

Salviana blinked. "Kittens?"

"Yep." Jean sat up and stretched. "I’ve saved a bunch. Found one buried under an old temple once, all skinny and scared. Took her home, fed her, and named her Pebble."

Salviana couldn’t help but smile at the image. "You have a soft heart under all that adventure, don’t you?"

Jean grinned. "Shh. Don’t tell anyone. It’ll ruin my image."

Salviana chuckled, closing her eyes. The candle burned lower, flickering gently.

Outside, the night continued, but in their little corner of the world, warmth and camaraderie wrapped around them like a second blanket.

For the first time in a while, Salviana felt like a child.

The morning sun filtered through the thin curtains of the inn, casting soft golden rays across the room. Salviana stirred under the covers, her body aching from the lingering cramps, but her mind was already set—she wouldn’t let this slow them down.

Alaric sat at the edge of the bed, watching her as she blinked away sleep. His blue eyes held a quiet concern; his chiseled features were soft in the morning light.

"You don’t have to push yourself," he said gently, reaching out to brush stray strands of hair from her face. "We can stay another day."

Salviana exhaled, forcing herself to sit up. "I’m fine, Alaric."

He arched a brow. "You were in pain all night."

Jean, still wrapped in a blanket on the other bed, yawned and stretched. "Honestly, I wouldn’t mind another day here either. The food is amazing—" ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom

"No," Salviana interrupted, throwing back the covers. "We leave today."

Jean groaned dramatically, rolling onto her side. "Ugh, you’re stubborn."

Alaric sighed, running a hand through his blond hair. "Fine. But the moment you feel unwell, we’re stopping. No arguments."

Salviana smirked, knowing full well she was going to argue when the time came.